Page 334

The SUVs turn onto the industrial road.

Police vehicles block every entrance.

The old bus station appears ahead.

Red brick.

Boarded windows.

Faded lettering above the main entrance.

The eastern office wing is empty.

Bomb-squad trucks surround the western baggage room.

The timer reads seven minutes.

The moment our SUV stops, everyone moves.

Sergeant Ellis takes us to the command vehicle.

A live drone image covers the largest monitor.

Another screen shows a diagram of the device.

“The wires from the chair connect to a pressure sensor beneath it,” Ellis explains. “If she stands or the chair shifts more than two inches, the device activates immediately.”

“Can you cut the wires?” Kane asks.

“Not from this side. They run beneath the floor.”

“What about the locker?”

“Two circuits. One connected to the timer. The second is attached to the door.”

“The key may disarm it,” Hayley says.

“Or it may detonate it,” Ellis replies.

Sage grips my arm.

“What do we do?”

“We get inside.”

Ellis points toward the building plan.

“My technician can reach the south wall through the coal tunnel. We need someone to clear the room before he enters.”

“Kane and Holt take the roof,” I say.

“There are sensors near the skylights,” Ellis warns.

“Visible?”

“Yes.”

“Holt?”