I take it off and then my soggy boots, my soaked socks and cargo pants, leaving my clothing on the floor a safe distance from blood and broken glass. The tactical pants SWAT picked out are so big I could pull them on without unzipping them, and I fold over the waistband to tighten it a little. I put on the black shirt, and it’s huge in the shoulders and waist, and the buttonholes are stubborn, the cotton fabric new and stiff. At least I have plenty of pockets for pistol magazines, pens, flashlights, knives, whatever one might need, I think ironically. I glance at myself in the mirror, and my tactical attire looks baggy and borrowed.

I don’t exactly look menacing without ballistic armor, helmet, night vision goggles or the smallest caliber assault rifle or even a pistol that holds more than six rounds. I can only hope that if the wrong person sees me I don’t get shot because it’s assumed I’m dangerous, and I am dangerous. But not the way I’d like to be right this minute.

“Well Lapin is suddenly sick thanks to you.” Marino is standing with his back to me, scrolling through his phone.

“Why thanks to me?” I sit down on the cool marble and put my wet boots back on without socks, and over them disposable shoe covers that will prevent me from tracking water in the house.

“You said something about Vogel not having a tetanus shot and maybe what he’s really got is the whooping cough. Lapin’s right there listening, and it’s what I call power of suggestion. Suddenly he started feeling sick.” Marino puts soaked sneakers back on as his phone rings again.

I gather from what he says that it’s his contact at the phone company. For a long moment Marino listens. He says very little. I can tell that what he’s being told isn’t helpful. Or maybe he doesn’t understand how it’s helpful or even plausible.

“This is nuts,” he exclaims to me when he ends the call. “We pinged his phone …”

“Hyde’s phone.”

“Yeah we don’t care about Lapin. We know where he is, at home playing hooky. The last call Hyde made was at nine-forty-nine this morning while he was still inside this house,” Marino says. “The phone records show that the call connected to a cell tower that has the exact same GPS coordinates as this house.”

“I don’t understand,” I start to say.