“No, but this door is busted open. My people are in the lobby looking for him among the guests, and your people have the other exits covered. He’s either up here or still inside. But this could be a trap—he had enough supplies to make twelve Molotov cocktails, and I counted nine explosions.”

“Six on the fourth floor and three on the second,” the team leader said. “Fire suppression system launched in multiple rooms. We’re still assessing injuries.”

“How do you want to do this?” Matt asked.

He squatted and checked the door for wires, then peered through. “How certain are you that he’s out there?”

“Eighty percent,” Matt said. “He purchased a forty-five-foot chain ladder. He planned this.” Though why was the million-dollar question. It seemed foolish for him to stay in the same hotel as the FBI—and Hamilton knew that they were here.

Unless he thought they’d bring Maddox here—which, until Andy had been killed, had been the original plan.

“There’s a duct system that, if we stay low, will cover us,” the team leader said. “Stay here until we clear the roof, Agent Costa.”

Matt hated sitting on the sidelines, but he concurred.

“Three, two, one.”

The two SWAT members pushed open the door and ran toward the closest duct. Almost immediately, Matt saw a flash of light, then an explosion right next to the duct.

“Man down! Man down!”

Matt ran over to the duct. One of the officers was bleeding in the leg. “Glass,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Medic, stat,” the team leader said.

“I’m fine,” the officer grimaced.

He wasn’t. He was immobile and losing blood, but he would live.

“Stay put,” Matt said. He looked over to where the makeshift grenade had come from. Hamilton was jumping over the side. The fire was burning out quickly—the icy roof coupled with the snow and wind ensured there wouldn’t be an extensive burn.

Matt ran over while talking into his com. He slid twice, caught himself. “Suspect is descending the western front of the building on a ladder! He’s armed and dangerous.”

Matt looked over the side. Hamilton was already halfway down, half climbing, half sliding down the ladder.

He hesitated, then Matt saw that he had another glass jar in his hand.

“Freeze!” Matt shouted. He had a shot, but right below Hamilton were dozens of guests who had been evacuated. SWAT was already trying to clear them out of the way, but Matt couldn’t risk hitting a civilian.

Hamilton lit the rag, and it had already started to burn. He threw the jar into the crowd. Screams echoed in the storm. The explosion was big, but fizzled quickly. Unfortunately, it gave Hamilton enough time to descend as everyone below took cover.

SWAT would get him, and while Matt didn’t think he had any more of those bombs, he could have purchased other supplies that they didn’t know about.

He has one more. He detonated eleven; he has twelve.

“I’m coming down the ladder,” he said. “He’s almost at the bottom.”