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monitors too,” Matt called over to me, his voice still fluttery. “But these guys could find a way to wait us out.”

“What about a special message on hotel TVs?” I called back. “Along with mugshots.”

“Way ahead of you,” Yvonne said. “Mark texted me access. I’m prepping one now.”

Matt looked at me with undisguised surprise, and I gave him a thumbs-up.

A three-note tone rang over the sound system, followed by another, slightly different.

“Our alert,” Mark said. “It tells our employees to take a subtle action a non-employee won’t know. I’ll explain in person when I get there. Sergeant, your people need to know not to let these guys get too close. Ferguson was stabbed with a nasty knife.”

“A Wasp?” Rafael said. “We took one off the guys who broke into the Bishop place.”

“So you know injection knives,” Mark said. “For divers in shark zones and special ops who need a silent kill. Stab deep, press a button, and a huge CO2 ball forms in the body to freeze and crush internal organs. Ferguson’s belly was ruptured. His skin was cold to the touch.”

“Jesus God!” Travis said, thumbing her handy-talkie. “Do we shoot on sight?”

As Rafael shook his head, I went to the Donatellos and didn’t hear what Travis told police. Apart from minor cuts and scratches, Matt’s family was fine. Sharon, a tall woman with wide shoulders and black hair, had stopped crying but her makeup was streaked. Casey and Conrad sipped sodas someone had got from a vending machine. Tie undone and blazer shrugged onto the back of his chair, Matt looked more shaken than anyone. I placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezed gently. He shook his head and let out a sigh.

“I know you and Randall were close,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

“It was Uncle Randy’s quick thinking that saved our lives,” Sharon said. “When whatever this thing was dropped to the floor, he tried to throw himself on it, maybe to save his lady friend, maybe all of us.” She kissed the forehead of the twin on her lap—Casey, I thought but wasn’t sure. “He sacrificed himself.”

“Uncle Randy,” Matt said softly, looking at his sons and then up at me. “That’s what good uncles do, look out for people who love them. Rimes, thanks for helping Sharon.”

I nodded and said he was welcome. “When you’re cleared, take your family home. Anything else the police need I’ll handle with your brother.”

“Damn right,” Mark said, crossing to us. I didn’t hear him in my ear, which meant he had switched off his earbud power pack. He kissed Sharon’s cheek and looked into each nephew’s face before he went to Matt. “Thank God you’re all okay.”

Matt slid Conrad off his lap so he could stand and embrace his brother. “He took the blast for them,” he said, eyes filling. “Randall took the blast.”

Mark patted his twin’s back for a moment. “I know, bro, I know. But Rimes is right. Once they finish with you, go take the rest of the day.” He stepped back. “In fact, why don’t you go now? I’ll clear it with Sergeant Piñero. He can interview all you guys tomorrow, at home on Sunday. This investigation won’t be settled overnight.”

“What about Protocol Thirty-nine?”

“We’ll handle it without you. You have a family to take care of. They’re all you need to worry about tonight.” Mark urged Matt back into his chair. “Now let me explain things to Rimes and the police.”

I shook Matt’s hand and waved to Sharon before Mark pulled me back to Rafael, Travis, and the small cluster of cops conferring with them.

“Power packs off,” Mark said, pulling Rafael and Travis aside. “No eavesdroppers.”

Rafael and Travis exchanged a look and hit the OFF switches on their belt units.

“Why I texted Yvonne,” Mark said. “Better to be sure. Ferguson’s jacket is missing so we can assume one of the bombers is wearing it, even if it hangs loose. Ferguson was big. Retired Rochester PD. He was good. Had to be two of them, one to distract, one to stab.”

Rafael took out his toothpick. “Sons of bitches!”

“Like a hospital or an old fashioned department store, we communicate with our people through coded tones,” Mark continued. “You heard three a few seconds ago, like the old NBC call sign. That was a signal to all DPS employees to move their nameplates from their breast pockets a couple inches over to the left lapel. It’s a code that we have a serious situation. It tells people coming on duty to buckle in for something out of the ordinary. The second tone means limit comms to text messages.”

“Smooth move,” Travis said. “The perps won’t know that, which means the guy in the jacket will stand out to everyone looking for him.”

“Exactly.” Mark pulled out his cell phone. “Now we wait.”

“Our cops won’t know either,” Rafael said. “They’ll give a pass to all your people in blazers. We should—”

“No!” Mark said. “Your channel could be monitored too. If everybody points to them at once, they could set off a backup explosion or worse. My people have orders to watch, not interfere. They’ll pass along location information till we’ve got the best place to box them in. When I get the alert, you two follow me and Rimes.”

The first sighting of someone non-compliant with name badge placement came five minutes later, about two minutes after every flat screen in sight displayed a mugshot alert. The message to Mark’s mobile was followed by a second and a third verifying the neglectful employee’s identity. Mark’s frown said whoever had forgotten to move his ID badge would be reprimanded if not fired. The fourth message hit the phone less than thirty seconds later.

“South stairwell on the shopping concourse,” Mark said. “Multiple sightings. They just slipped inside. They’re below us and on hidden cameras, heading down, two guys and a woman.” Mark held his phone so we could see the image being patched in. “The blazer’s too big for the asshole wearing it, a guy with red

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