Bell turned and jogged a few steps toward the sounds, wondering: Misdirection?

But, no, it was just a traffic dispute.

He turned back, toward the entrance to the Criminal Courts building, and found himself looking right at Charles Grady, who was strolling casually up the street, a block away. The prosecutor was walking with his head down, lost in his thoughts. The detective sprinted toward the man, calling, "Charles! Get down! Weir's escaped!"

Grady paused, frowning.

"Down!" Bell called breathlessly.

The alarmed man crouched on the sidewalk, between two parked cars. "What happened?" he shouted. "My family!"

"I've got people with them," the detective said. Then, to the pedestrians: "Everybody! Police action here! Clear the street!"

People scattered instantly.

"My family!" Grady called desperately. "You're sure?"

"They're fine."

"But Weir—"

"Faked the shooting in detention. He's out and somewhere around here. I've got an armored van on its way."

Turning again, squinting, surveying the scenery.

Roland Bell finally reached Grady and stood over him, his back to the dark windows of the government office building across the street.

"Just stay right where you are, Charles," Bell said. "We'll get out of this fine." And pulled his handy-talkie off his belt.

———«»———«»———«»———

What was this?

Hobbs Wentworth watched his target below him—the prosecutor—cowering on the sidewalk behind a man in a sports coat, a cop obviously.

The crosshairs of Hobbs's scope poked around the officer's back, searching unsuccessfully for an unprotected shot at Grady.

The prosecutor was low, the cop standing. It seemed to Hobbs that if he shot through the cop's lower back he'd probably hit Grady in the upper chest, since he was crouching. But the risk was that the shot would be deflected and Grady'd only be wounded and fall to safety behind a car.

Well, he had to do something pretty soon. The cop was talking on his radio. There'd be a hundred more of 'em here in a minute. Come on, sharp operator, he said to himself. Whatcha gonna do?

Below him the cop was still looking around, covering Grady, who squatted like a bitch retriever peeing.

All right. What he'd do was shoot the cop in the upper leg, the thigh. That way, most likely, the cop would fall backward, exposing the prosecutor. The Colt was semiauto so he could fire five shots in two seconds. Not perfect but it was the best Hobbs could think of.

He'd give the cop a moment or two longer to step aside or sway out of the way.