Hendricks drove past Tate’s cell, and Jenn slipped off the bumper and took the near corner. Hendricks stopped thirty feet away and came back on foot, taking the far corner. He held up three fingers, and Jenn nodded. He mouthed “Three, two, one,” and Jenn rolled around the corner in a crouch, gun up, scanning the room. Hendricks followed a half step behind, hard and fast, dividing the room in half.

They came to an abrupt halt, their guns falling limply to their sides. Tate’s cell door was open. Tate was gone.

Jenn took a step forward and stepped in something wet. She looked down. A wide blood trail led from Tate’s cell. Someone had bled out in the cell. Wherever Tate was now, he hadn’t walked there.

“Well, this isn’t ideal,” Hendricks said, holstering his gun.

She looked at him, thinking. “Leave the camera running?”

“Yeah,” Hendricks said.

“Roll it back and take a look. I’m going to call George.”

“Don’t you think, maybe, we should talk about what’s happening here?”

“Not now. Check the tape.”

“Then what?”

“We break camp and get the hell out of Dodge. Then we talk about what’s happening here.”

Jenn stepped out into the late afternoon sunshine and dialed George. It went to voice mail, and she hung up and dialed again. Voice mail again. She frowned. She hung up and called Abe Consulting’s main line. It also went to voice mail. She checked her watch. Reception went home at five thirty; it was nearly six. Usually there was someone in the office. She tried Rilling but got his voice mail. Where was everybody? She called George back and left a perky two-word message. “Call me!” It was code to send the cavalry. Cavalry would be nice.

She heard Hendricks yelling her name. She found him by the monitors.

“You’re not going to like this,” Hendricks said.

“I don’t like it now.”

Hendricks hit “Play.” It was a static shot of Tate in his cell. After a minute, the cell lit up and immediately dimmed again as the rollaway door opened and closed. Gibson Vaughn came into the frame.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me . . .”

“I told you.”

“Vaughn did this? I don’t believe it.”

“Just watch,” Hendricks said.

Vaughn sat down by the cage. Tate eventually came and sat nearby, and the two men talked for a long while before Gibson left. She would pay good money to know what the two of them talked about, but the room was only wired for video. Hindsight was twenty-twenty.