“Caleb said you’d appreciate it.”Mitch handed him a second coffee from a tray Graham hadn’t noticed in his other hand.“Two sugars.He guessed.”
“He guessed right.”
They walked the perimeter clockwise, Mitch leading, Graham noting the points where Mitch slowed and the points where he didn’t.The man read the building the way a tracker read a treeline.Twice he stopped and said nothing, and twice Graham looked at the same spot and saw what had stopped him — a sight line a sniper would use, a service door whose hinges had been recently oiled.
At the back of the property, Mitch unrolled the schematic against the brick wall and held one corner with his forearm.
“Walk me through what I can’t see on paper.”
Graham walked him through it.The blind spot in the camera coverage along the last forty feet of the emergency bay access road.The loading dock where the unmarked vans had entered on the nights Maren had documented.The freight elevator that opened onto the second floor behind the med-surg supply closet.The basement server room where the camera backups lived.
Mitch listened without interrupting.When Graham finished, Mitch tapped the schematic at the south entrance.
“Guard rotation.”
“Eighteen-minute loop.One guard covers the south entrance and the loading dock.”
“That’s a two-man job done by one.Whose decision?”
“Creighton’s.She rewrote the rotation eight months ago.”
Mitch nodded once.He didn’t need it spelled out.“How many of my people do you want inside the perimeter on Monday morning?”
“Four.The remaining two on the county road, one mile east of the hospital.That’s where the secondary route exits.”
“And if it goes loud?”
“It won’t.The safety drill is forty minutes of controlled chaos.Lockdown, sweep, all-clear.We move during the lockdown phase.By the time the all-clear sounds, we’ve pulled what we need and we’re back in our positions.”
“And if it does go loud?”
Graham looked at the back of the building.“Then we move faster.”
“Fair.”Mitch rolled the schematic.“Talk to me about the basement.”
“I’ll have a man in the basement,” Graham said.
“Your man or mine?”
“Mine.But he won’t be visible.Your team won’t know he’s there.”
Mitch absorbed that without comment.“Then I hold four.You cover the basement.The county road position covers the south lane.That leaves the north dock as the only gap neither of us can close.”
“Forty-five seconds,” Graham said.“If someone moves through the north dock, Caleb’s internal camera tap gives us forty-five seconds of warning before they clear the basement corridor.That’s enough time to redirect.”
“Forty-five seconds is tight.”
“It’s what we have.”
Mitch picked up the schematic, looked at it for thirty seconds, and handed it back.He had memorized what he needed.“You’re going to tell me about the man in the good shoes.”
Mitch had already spotted Pruitt.He had been on the property three days.Of course he had.
“Facilities liaison.Name’s Pruitt.He’s not facilities.”
“I know he’s not facilities.Facilities men wear work boots.That one wears Italian leather and never carries a tool.”Mitch put his hands in his jacket pockets.“Whose eyes is he?”
“Montgomery’s.He’s been tracking staff movement, charting access patterns, mapping who goes where on what shift.”
