Women screamed and men shouted. There was the sickening thud of billy clubs against skulls and the unmistakable click and slide of bullets being chambered in guns. Ten cops ran upstairs with their rifles poised to fire. Ten cops ran downstairs with their weapons at the ready.

Three people who tried to escape were quickly subdued and cuffed. Within five minutes, the messages began coming through on the radio.

“Second floor secured. We’re bringing down twenty.”

“First floor secured. We’ve got ten.”

“Basement secured. We’ve got eleven.”

“Any injuries to police?” Mann said into the radio. “No injuries,” said the three team leaders.

It was over in minutes, and as the wagons met in the middle of the block, prisoners were marched out single file. Among them were the usual suspects: wild-eyed men and used-up women, toothless addicts, and callous dealers. Mixed in among them were the people no one expected to see. There were men and women in business suits, suburban mothers, and rosy-cheeked teens.

Mann looked through the crowd and saw only four white men. Two of them appeared to be in their twenties, and two of them looked as if they might fit the profile laid out by Mary Smithson.

“See those four?” Mann said to one of the homicide detectives. “Let’s take them straight to headquarters.”

The detective pulled the men out of the line and placed them in the back of the two unmarked cars as shocked neighbors who’d spent years calling for such a raid lined up to watch.

While workers from the city’s department of licenses and inspections moved in to board up the house and the remaining prisoners were loaded into wagons, Mann got into the narcotics van and checked on the status of two other raids that had taken place simultaneously. Forty additional prisoners were in custody. On the surface, the raids were successful, but Mann knew there was only one real measure of success, and they had only a few hours to attain it.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. He looked at the screen and smiled when he saw the number. “So you figured out how to use that iPhone, huh?” Mann asked.

“It’s not like I’m blind,” Coletti said. “I can see numbers and a send button.”

“Okay, old head, what’s up? I’m kinda busy,” Mann said.

“Turns out your girl Sandy’s got great instincts,” Coletti said. “The guy she arrested this morning was knee-deep in this thing. He claims he had nothing to do with the murders, but he knows what the ringleader looks like.”

“Okay,” Mann said, taking out a pen and paper. “I’m ready.”

“He’s about five nine and in his forties, maybe younger,” Coletti said. “He’s got blond hair and blue eyes, and he talks with a gravelly voice.”

“Did he tell you his name or where we could find him?” Mann asked.