“This is possible, then. It could be outsiders. They’d be under the radar.”

Frankie considered that. “Doubtful. I’ll bet Detroit PD has eyes in there. They bust a guy carrying a light load, make a deal, give him a few bucks, and he keeps you up-to-date on anything unusual going on.”

Suddenly Rod Stewart sang, “You’re in my heart, you’re in my soooooollll,” Jenny’s ring. Cher confirmed she was calling. “Cher, tell Jenny I’ll call her back, please.”

Frankie laughed lightly. “You are something else, Wheels.”

I ignored him. “You know what,” I decided, tapping the monitor, “I’m going to do a quick piece about the house. About the drugs. The whole shebang.”

“The administration isn’t going to like that.” He turned, then reminded me, “Make sure you classify it O.”

6

I believe strongly that America can never sufficiently repay the debt it owes to pizza. It is pizza that almost single-handedly has kept American journalism alive. It is the original fast food; a highly skilled journalist can sniff out a passable pie anywhere in the country at any hour, it is a communal food that can satisfy an entire newsroom, it is filling, it literally can be eaten single-handedly and it is um-um-good. Among the first skills any aspiring TV journalist must master is how to eat a slice without oil or tomato dripping on a shirt or blouse (the famed Diane Sawyer Front-Leaning Technique is favored). And personally, I think the vicious debate between extra cheese and Sicilian is ridiculous.

I was three bites into a slice of pepperoni with extra cheese when the newsroom went silent. I looked at the monitor in front of me. ABC was reporting, “Shots reported fired. Explosions heard.”

There were about twenty people still in the office. We sat comfortably, enjoying the four pies Howie had ordered as the horror unfolded on the twelve screens surrounding us. Nothing like pepperoni to accompany a night firefight.

I still sometimes wonder if it is simply a coincidence that I have chosen two careers in which emotion plays zero part. In fact, in soldiers or journalists, emotions are considered an occupational hazard. They tend to get in the way of good fighting and good reporting. So I was able to watch this attack, at least what we could see of it, with a dispassionate fascination. Having been on several similar missions, I found myself far more interested in studying the technical procedures of the attack than in feeling any compassion for the human beings inside that house who were being blown into headlines.

My unit, when we were deployed, was designated AIA: Attack and Infiltration A Team. We lived by the motto “Shoot first. Then shoot second.” Literally, that’s how we stayed alive and mostly unhurt (well, except for those working legs I used to have). I assumed this unit, the 8th, had a similar philosophy. If the people inside the house did not surrender immediately I had no doubt the 8th was going to light up the whole neighborhood.