They had the same education, however—in frequent, repetitive, grueling doses—and so could rely on equally acquired skills over personal familiarity. Many lives had been sacrificed over time to fine-tune what they were doing now.

The division of labor was a crucial aspect of this. TAC people were hunters, trained to react to movement and suppress human threat; tactical bomb techs were problem solvers, analytical more than reactionary. Mock was there not just to disarm, but to spot, as Willy had earlier, potentially lethal anomalies. Was there fresh paint on a wall and nowhere else? A carpet unusually skewed? Any oddly half-open drawers? Any light switches, TV sets, motion detectors, or wall sockets that looked peculiar?

And that addressed only the visible. Heat sensors, motion detectors, hidden pressure plates, and so-called PIRs, or passive infrared sensors, also had to be considered. In a setting like this, the TAC people became Christian Mock’s devoted bodyguards, keeping him alive so he could return the favor.

If everything worked out.

“Tell me more about Lucy and Lemuel,” Joe urged Seamus, hearing over his earpiece that the hasty team had entered the building.

“What d’you mean?”

Joe was candid. “When we first heard of him, he was just the owner of a stolen car, taken by a guy named Don Kalfus. That name familiar?”

“Nope.”

“We found him dead in the trunk of the same car, and now we have evidence that both Shaws played a role.”

Seamus didn’t respond.

“I’m guessing you do know something about that,” Joe suggested.

After a further pause, Seamus asked, “What’s up with your backup? You said somebody was coming to get me out of this thing.”

Willy answered, “He said they had training for that. Chances are they’ll fail and you and us are gonna die. You wanna come clean, now’s the time.”

Seamus’s mouth fell open at the change in tone, his eyes widening. He swallowed hard before saying, “What the fuck, dude? I might as well take you losers out with me right now.”

Joe followed Willy’s lead. “‘Chances are’ is not a guarantee. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be here and a disposal team wouldn’t be in the building, making their way here.” He stepped closer to Seamus, increasing the intimacy between them. “You know who put you in this thing, Seamus. You know he wasn’t screwing around. This is no game. But here we are anyway, risking our lives to save you.”

He crouched before the young man, getting eye to eye. “We’re a team here, man. We’ve been working this since it started, putting the pieces together, figuring out who’s who, connecting the dots until they took us right here, right now. We’re going to do everything possible to get you out of this, but we need your help to put Shaw where he belongs. Please tell me you’re good with that—that you don’t want him getting away with it.”

To Joe’s surprise, it seemed to work. Seamus’s shoulders relaxed, and his expression calmed. “You won’t leave me?” he asked.