“I can get behind that,” McNab muttered.
A full frontal, she thought, all four through the same door, was too risky if he was armed.
“You and Peabody on the gallery door. Roarke will open the door between the sections by remote on my command. We’ll go in the studio door. Take him in a pincer. Move on my signal.”
She moved through the stairwell door, signaled McNab and Peabody to position on the other side of the corridor.
She could hear the progress of the evacuation through her headset. It was slow, but it was moving. She rolled her shoulders.
“Jesus, I hate these vests. Can they make them any more uncomfortable?”
“In another age, Lieutenant, you’d have been my knight in shining armor. And that protection you’d have hated a great deal more.”
“Could’ve taken him, probably could’ve taken him without the evac. Could wait, stake him out. He’s got to sleep sometimes. But . . .”
“Your instincts told you to move people out of harm’s way and take him now.”
She removed her headset, gestured at his. “If it’ll help you to be the one to take him down, I’ll hold back.”
He skimmed a fingertip along her jawline. “Soft on me, aren’t you?”
“Pretty much.”
“Same goes. And no, don’t hold back. It doesn’t matter who.”
“Okay, then.” She put her headset back in place. Then rolled on her toes a few minutes later when the all-clear came through.
“Peabody, on the door. Roarke, get them into the gallery.”
He keyed in on his remote. “Done.”
“Move in. Stay ready.” She took her position by the studio door, nodded to Roarke. “Go!”
She broke through the door, went in low with Roarke high beside her. An instant later, the door between sections opened and Peabody and McNab charged through.
Bissel stood by one of his sculptures, wearing a safety helmet and goggles, light body armor. And two hand blasters in a cross-body harness. He held a torch that spurted a thin line of flame.
“Police! Put your hands in the air. Do it now!”
“It’s not going to matter. Not going to matter.” He swept the torch toward Peabody and McNab, and jerked back as he was stunned.
“Not going to matter.” He tossed down the torch and flame bounced along the reflective surface of the floor. “I rigged this. Are you hearing me!” he shouted. “I’ve got a bomb. If you come at me, I’ll blow it. I’ll blow up half this building and everyone in it. You put down those weapons and listen to me.”
“I’m all ears, Blair.” She heard the order go out for Bombs and Explosives through her earpiece. “Where’s the bomb?”
“Put down your weapons.”
“I’m not going to do that.” She watched out of the corner of her eye as Roarke shifted, then crouched to retrieve the torch and turn it off. “You want me to listen, I’ll listen. Where’s the bomb? You could be bullshitting me. You want me to listen, you’ve got to tell me where it is.”
“This. The whole damn thing.” He slapped his hand on the twisting column of metal. His face was sheened with sweat. From the work, she imagined, and from excitement. And panic.
“There’s enough in here to blow this place, hundreds of people, to hell and back again.”
“You’d go with them.”
“You listen.” He shoved back his helmet and she saw his eyes. Zeus, she thought. He was riding on it. Between that and the body armor, he’d take a few stuns before he went down.
“I said I was listening. What do you have to say?”