Balling his fists and gritting his teeth, the big Italian-American cop headed for the door with Carter and Burke following on his heels. The men in the tactical gear were telling the technicians that they needed to vacate the premises as well.

Once they were in the parking lot, Nic yelled, “You just rolled over in there, Carter!”

“What exactly did you expect me to do? Go Jackie Chan on the CIA and tell the head of the FBI to stick it?”

“I don’t know. You’re the diplomatic negotiator guy. You could have worked out a deal with them.”

Burke tried to interject. “Guys, it doesn’t—”

Carter said, “And how was I supposed to be diplomatic after you had just gotten up in Yoshida’s face like a big gorilla trying to establish dominance. I’m surprised you didn’t piss on the vault room door to mark your territory.”

“At least I did something. People are dying and—”

“Shut your stupid mouths and stop arguing like a couple of horny pheasants!”

Both of them turned toward Burke with strange expressions. “Horny pheasants?” Nic said.

“I couldn’t remember what Romeo said earlier when we were arguing. It was peacocks, wasn’t it? Doesn’t matter. The vault room is not where we want to be.”

“Then where do we want to be, son?” Carter said.

Burke growled. He didn’t have time to explain every obvious little detail to them. “Nic, your team has parabolic microphones pointed at the building, correct?”

“Yeah, but they’re not sensitive enough to hear what Yoshida and his men are—”

“Don’t tell me what I’m thinking. Just answer my questions.”

“Yes, we have microphones on the building to pick up screams or muffled gunshots. Why?”

“And the feeds from the microphones are recorded and probably sent back to the comm center?”

“Yeah, but—”

Burke ignored them both and headed for the Henderson PD’s fancy RV. He didn’t have time to coddle his partners and hold their hands as he walked them through every detail. He was seeing ten steps ahead now, and if they didn’t hurry, they’d never find out what was buried beneath the GoBox facility, and what could have been worth mass murder.

Once inside the comm center, Burke dropped into a swivel desk chair resting in front of one of the many computer workstations. The seat was several inches too short for him and made him feel like a child sitting at the adult table. He tried to adjust it, but the hydraulics didn’t work. Ignoring the inconvenience, he pulled up the log-in screen.

Nic and Carter entered the comm center and looked over his shoulder. Nic said, “You’ll need my username to … Okay, never mind. You’re already in.”

“Quiet,” Burke said as his fingers flew over the keys. He could already barely concentrate with the hum of the comm center’s air conditioner, which was leaking and dripping down the vehicle’s fiberglass sides. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed like a swarm of angry hornets, and the keyboard smelled like someone had deep fried it at a McDonald’s. He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply out of his mouth. Then he set to the task at hand, his fingers crawling over the keys and down the digital rabbit hole.