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Sloane lifted his head in time to watch dozens of citizens come rushing out of the emergency stairwells, ushered by his team. Dex’s voice rang clear above the others.

“Please exit in an orderly fashion. We’re here with you, so no need to panic. That’s it, follow my colleague, she’ll guide you. Ma’am, please, you can come back for your belongings later, I promise, but right now your safety is far more important to me. Thank you, I appreciate your cooperation. Sir, just breathe. It’s okay. Take my arm. Old? Haven’t you heard? Seventy’s the new fifty. Do I? Well, your grandson must be a handsome devil, then.”

Sloane held back a smile. Rookie was a natural. Seconds later, Cael came back on the line. “No one under that name, no new registrants either. Themis did give me a different kind of hit on it, though. It’s weird.”

“What is it?”

“A Greek myth.”

“What?”

“Hyacinth was lover to the god Apollo. According to one version of the tale, the West Wind, Zephyr, was also in love with Hyacinth, and in his jealousy at having Hyacinth choose Apollo over him, he blew Apollo’s discus off course so it struck Hyacinth, and he died from his injuries. There’s more detail, but that’s the gist of it.”

“That son of a bitch.” Sloane gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. The bastard was taunting him.

“What does—” Cael gasped. “Oh. You’re Apollo.”

“Yes,” Sloane replied through his teeth. And Gabe was Hyacinth. He turned to Allan, pointing to the name on the tablet. “I want to see all the footage you have on this appointment here. We’re looking for a Caucasian Human male, midthirties, five-ten, one hundred and seventy pounds, light brown hair. The time beside his name is showing 2:13 p.m.”

“Follow me.”

Sloane stepped into a medium-sized security office behind and to the right of the reception area. It contained a wall-to-wall security console with an expansive flat screen monitor. As Allan accessed the security network searching for the footage they needed, Sloane tapped his earpiece. “Team, updates.”

Rosa’s voice came over his earpiece. “All top levels are clear. We’re emptying out the lobby now.”

“Copy that. Guys, how are we doing on that device?”

Calvin was the first to answer. “We’ve cleared the lobby and first floor. Ash cleared the second and third floors and is heading for the fourth. Hobbs and I are taking the stairs up to the sixth floor. There are a lot of places this thing can be. The closest substance we’ve gotten a read on is acetone, but that was from someone’s bottle of nail polish remover. We’ll let you know soon as we get something.”

“Okay.” Sloane turned to Allan who brought up the security footage from the timeframe they needed. The moment Sloane saw the bastard, his gut tightened. He’d lightened his hair and grown it out so it looked shaggy, the front almost falling over his eyes. He was dressed in tattered but fashionable jeans, expensive sneakers, a football hoodie, and carried a designer messenger bag. The whole ensemble had him resembling a college jock more than the maniac the THIRDS had put an APB out on, which Sloane suspected was Isaac’s intent. “That’s him right there. Let’s see where he goes.” He watched as Isaac signed in, smiling and flirting with the receptionist. She pointed to the elevator behind her on the right side of the lobby, and with a wink, he headed for it. Again, Sloane tapped his earpiece.

“It was Isaac. I’ve got eyes on him. He stepped into the elevator closest to the reception area, right side. I’m waiting to see what floor he gets off on.” A few minutes later, Isaac stepped off on the seventh. “He got off on the seventh floor. He’s carrying a messenger bag. My guess is the bomb’s in there.”

“We’re heading to the elevator. What room does he go into?” Calvin asked.

“Hold on.” Sloane watched the color screen as Isaac leisurely strolled down the hall as if he was in no kind of hurry. He opened his messenger bag, pulled out a tablet, and tapped away. Ten minutes later, he put the tablet away and headed for the end of the hall. Sloane tapped his earpiece, ready to give his team the location, when Isaac turned around and went back to the elevator. “What the hell?”

“What is it?” Calvin asked. “Sloane, we’re running out of time.”

“He turned around and went back down.” As Isaac walked through the lobby, he took out a cellphone, said a few words, smiled, and left. What in the living fuck? Why would he ride the elevator to the seventh floor just to ride it back down, and leave? Sloane wracked his brain. The guy was smart. He was also an ex-detective. “Dex?”

“Yeah?”

“I need you in here.”

Seconds later, Dex entered the room. “What happened?”

“If you were going to place a bomb inside a building knowing you were being watched. Where would you place it? He rode the elevator up to the seventh floor, walked around some, working on a tablet, then came back down, placed a phone call, and left.”

Dex worried his bottom lip in thought. “I’d put it somewhere the cameras couldn’t follow me.”

Allan pursed his lips. “Only places with no security are the bathrooms and the elevators.”

“The elevator,” Dex said immediately. “They all have access panels, right? For maintenance? It’s an oldie but goodie. Why try to reinvent the wheel?”

Sloane nodded. “Calvin—”

“We’re enabling the elevator and calling it up now.”

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