Down in the courtyard, the orange flames from the garage lick at the falling snow.

The sound of heavy, rapid footsteps echoed from the hallway outside.

Marcus Vale burst through the doorway, his face streaked with black soot.

His tactical vest was torn at the shoulder, and his breathing was shallow.

“Everyone out of this wing,” Marcus rasped, coughing into his fist.

“The garage fire is spreading to the east utility room.”

“Are you hurt?” I asked, looking at the dark blood dripping from his knuckles.

“I’m fine,” Marcus said, waving me off.

“The blast was a distraction to keep us from pursuing the SUV.”

Benjamin emerged from the shadows of the hallway behind Marcus.

His face was completely devoid of color, his eyes hollowed out by shock.

“Arthur,” Benjamin said, his voice barely a whisper.

“Arthur was in the car?”

“No,” Marcus said, shaking his head.

“The vehicle left in the garage belonged to Arthur, but it was rigged with a remote detonator.”

Marcus pulled a rugged, military-grade tablet from his side pouch.

The screen was covered in lines of scrolling green data.