“Something’s happening across the street.”

They ran outside, into heat so thick that Gabriel felt as though he’d just plunged into a hot bath. Albany Street was in chaos. The officer manning the police line was shouting, “Stay back! Stay back!” while reporters pressed forward, a determined amoeba threatening to ooze through the barriers. Sweating Tactical Ops officers were scrambling to tighten the perimeter, and one of them glanced back, toward the crowd. Gabriel saw the look of confusion on his face.

That officer doesn’t know what’s going on, either.

He turned to a woman standing a few feet away. “What happened?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. The cops just went crazy and started toward the building.”

“Was there gunfire? Did you hear shots?”

“I didn’t hear anything. I was just walking to the clinic when I heard them all start yelling.”

“It’s nuts out here,” said Abe. “No one knows anything.”

Gabriel ran toward the command and control trailer, but a knot of reporters blocked his way. In frustration, he grabbed a TV cameraman’s arm and pulled him around. “What happened?”

“Hey, man. Ease off.”

“Just tell me what happened!”

“They had a breach. Walked right through their goddamn perimeter.”

“The shooter escaped?”

“No. Someone got in.”

Gabriel stared at him. “Who?”

“No one knows who he is.”

Half the ME’s staff was gathered in the conference room, watching the TV. The set was tuned to the local news; on the screen was a blond reporter named Zoe Fossey, standing right in front of the police barrier. In the background cops milled among parked vehicles and voices were yelling in confusion. Gabriel glanced out the window at Albany Street, and saw the same scene they were now watching on TV.

“… extraordinary development, clearly something no one expected. The man walked right through this perimeter behind me, just strolled into that controlled area, completely nonchalant, as though he belonged there. That may have been what caught the police off guard. Plus, the man was heavily armed and wearing a black uniform very much like those you see behind me. It would have been easy to mistake him as one of these Tactical Operations officers…”

Abe Bristol gave a can-you-believe-this? snort. “Guy walked right in off the street, and they let him through!”

“… we’re told there is also an inner police perimeter. But it’s inside the lobby, which we can’t see from here. We haven’t heard yet if this man penetrated the second perimeter. But when you see how easily he walked right through the outer line, you can imagine he must have caught the police inside the building by surprise as well. I’m sure they were focused on containing the hostage taker. They probably didn’t expect a gunman to walk in.”

“They should have known,” said Gabriel, staring in disbelief at the TV. “They should have expected this.”

“… it’s been twenty minutes now, and the man has not re-emerged. There was initial speculation that he’s some self-styled Rambo, trying to single-handedly launch a rescue operation. Needless to say, the consequences could be disastrous. But so far, we’ve heard no gunfire, and we’ve seen no indication that his entry into the building has touched off any violence.”

The anchorman cut in: “Zoe, we’re going to run that footage again, so that the viewers who’ve just joined us can see the startling development. It took place about twenty minutes ago. Our cameras caught it live as it happened…”

Zoe Fossey’s image was replaced by a video clip. It was a long-shot view up Albany Street, almost the same view they could see out the conference room window. At first, Gabriel did not even know what he was supposed to focus on. Then an arrow appeared on screen, a helpful graphic added by the TV station, pointing to a dark figure moving along the lower edge. The man walked purposefully past police cars, past the command post trailer. None of the cops standing nearby tried to stop the intruder, though one did glance uncertainly in his direction.

“Here we’ve magnified the image for a better look at this fellow,” the anchorman said. The view zoomed in and froze, the intruder’s back now filling the screen. “He seems to be carrying a rifle, as well as some sort of backpack. Those dark clothes do blend in with all the other cops standing around, which is why our cameraman at the time didn’t realize what he was seeing. At first glance, you’d assume this is a Tactical Operations uniform he’s wearing. But on closer inspection, you can see there is no insignia on the back to indicate he’s part of the team.”

The video clip rolled forward a few frames and again froze, this time on the man’s face, as he turned to glance over his shoulder. He had receding dark hair and a narrow, almost gaunt face. An unlikely Rambo. That one long-distance frame was the only glimpse the camera caught of his features. In the next frame, his back was once again to the camera. The video clip continued, tracking the man’s progress toward the building, until he vanished through the lobby doors.

Zoe Fossey was back onscreen, microphone in hand. “We’ve tried to get some official statement about just what happened here, but no one’s talking, Dave.”

“You think the police might be just the slightest bit embarrassed?”

“To put it mildly. Adding to their embarrassment, I hear the FBI has just stepped in.”

“A not-so-subtle hint that things could be better managed?”

“Well, things are pretty chaotic out here right now.”

“Any confirmation yet on the number of hostages being held?”

“The hostage taker claimed, during her call to the radio station, that she was holding six people. I’ve since heard from sources that the number is probably correct. Three hospital employees, a doctor, and two patients. We’re trying to get their names now…”

Gabriel went rigid in his chair, staring in rage at the TV. At the woman who was so eager to reveal Jane’s identity. Who could unwittingly condemn her to death.

“… as you can see, over my shoulder, there’s a lot of yelling going on. A lot of rising tempers in this heat. Another station’s cameraman just got shoved to the ground when he tried to get too close to the perimeter. One unauthorized person has already slipped through, and the police aren’t about to let it happen again. But it’s like shutting the barn door after the horse gets out. Or, in this case, gets in.”

“Any idea who this Rambo is?”

“As I said, no one’s talking. But we’ve heard reports that the police are checking out an illegally parked car about two blocks away from here.”

“They think it’s Rambo’s car?”

“Apparently. A witness saw this man leaving the car. I guess even Rambo needs transportation.”

“But what’s his motive?”

“You have to consider two possibilities. One, that the man’s trying to be a hero. Maybe he knows one of the hostages, and he’s launching his own rescue operation.”

“And the second possibility?”

“The second possibility is scary. That this man is a reinforcement. He’s come to join the hostage taker.”

Gabriel rocked back in his chair, stunned by what had suddenly become obvious to him. “That’s what it meant,” he said softly. “The die is cast.”

Abe swiveled around to face him. “It meant something?”

Gabriel shot to his feet. “I need to see Captain Hayder.”

“It’s an activation code,” said Gabriel. “Jane Doe called that radio station to broadcast the phrase. To get it out to the public.”

“An activation code for what?” asked Hayder.

“A call to arms. Reinforcements.”

Hayder snorted. “Why didn’t she just say, Help me out here, guys? Why use a code?”