Once every three months, Hi-Alert Medical Systems has to check on the wall-mounted defibrillators and other emergency medical supplies that are part of their maintenance contract with the state of New York. They’re a regional subcontractor, servicing literally hundreds of the wall-mounted box units in movie theater lobbies, mall restrooms, public schools, municipal office buildings, administrative buildings, and courthouses throughout the region.

So this morning, Richard Galossi, their regional service rep, is checking the units in the courthouse. All standard servicing is done in off-hours when court is not in session.

Galossi, in his Hi-Alert uniform, shows his lanyard ID and brings in his test equipment. It turns out that he actually needs to replace one of the courtroom units with a newer model that will hold its charge longer.

When he’s done, Galossi locks the wall unit that is in the courtroom. Which anyone watching might find unusual because you can’t get access to the defibrillator in an emergency. But as far as Galossi knows, no one has ever reached for that defibrillator or the emergency supplies. In fact, if there ever was a real health emergency in that courtroom, Galossi would bet they’d simply call an ambulance. He’s pretty sure no one even looks at the wall unit.

In fact, this courtroom unit is the only one Richard Galossi maintains.

“All set,” says Richard Galossi to himself. Entering a little check mark and a date and some notes onto his clipboard.

All set, thinks Will Shale, wearing his Hi-Alert uniform with the Richard Galossi name tag, slipping out the courtroom door.

It’s actually the same uniform he wore for his ATM machine “repair” scam but with a new arm patch. Waste not, want not.

People love a man in uniform.

And the irony of a bomb disguised as lifesaving equipment earns no more than a quick smile from Will Shale.

In case of emergency, it says on the side.

There’s an emergency in that case, all right.

71.

71.

It happens without ceremony one bright morning. A morning otherwise like any other.

A police cruiser pulls quietly to the curb outside Rooms4Rent. Two cops uncurl out of the vehicle. The two surveillance cops in the unmarked car across the street get out of their sedan, too, and head toward the Rooms4Rent entrance.

Joey has been watching. Expecting it for days.

It would be so easy to escape them, he thinks. Duck into the back way that he discovered through the old plumber. Slip out of the city, start over, take his chances.

He could even grab the Ruger hidden in the custodial closet on the way out. He’s rehearsed it in his head. He’d have the time. And he’d always have a way to shoot out of a corner—or to shoot himself, if the corner turned too dark.