“We don’t know. It’s able to change shape,” Trip said as I moved down the line of monitors, looking for suspicious activity. “So we’ll need to know about anything that seems out of place.”

Seeing this many different angles really drove home just how huge this facility really was. Starting at the top, there were a few different views of the roof where Julie’s group of marksmen were keeping an eye out. A black shape that had to be Skippy had a panel open on the tail rotor of our chopper and was beating something with a hammer. That just filled me with all sorts of confidence.

“Provided Skip doesn’t break anything, we can still fly out of here if we need to,” Trip said quietly to me. “Unless the MCB has a surface-to-air missile down there…Which they probably do. Never mind.”

Beneath the roof level and helipad was the hotel, all twenty luxurious stories, eight cameras per floor. The upper floors weren’t done yet, but cameras were already installed there. There were no cameras in the rooms, but every hall was covered. I counted all of our small Hunter teams going room to room. They’d knock, talk to the occupants if there were any, then move on. I spotted the other patrols in the gambling area, the concourse, and the shopping area. All were accounted for. I addressed the security personnel with my authority voice. “Keep an eye on those patrols. If any of them disappear for more than a couple of seconds, sound the alarm. If any of them look like they start freaking out about something, sound the alarm. Hell, if you see anything weird, sound the alarm. Then I want you to use the switchboard and call the conference center so we can get my people on it fast.”

“If we see something strange, we can ring the closest patrol and warn them,” suggested one of the men.

“Good call. Do that too. I’ll make sure they know to answer.” I decided to try and placate Mitch. He needed to feel important. “I can tell you run a tight ship here. You men are our first line of defense. All of these innocent people are counting on you. The faster we react, the fewer of them die. With you as our eyes, I know we can get through this alive.”

The employees exchanged nervous glances. Apparently my words of encouragement hadn’t helped any. When it came to motivation, I was no Earl Harbinger.

“Friggin’ management.” Mitch wandered over to the coffee machine, still muttering angrily to himself. The angry banging told me that he was taking out his frustration on the coffee maker. “Want one?” Mitch called to us. “How do you Ghostbusters like your coffee?”

“Without spit in it?” Trip whispered to me before answering him. “Five sugars.”

“Jeez, Trip, why don’t you just melt some candy bars in it? None for me, thanks.”