Cabrillo pulled up short almost immediately and laughed. Oops. Wrong building, he said, grinning drunkenly. He escorted Linda back outside. The doorman barely had time to step from behind the counter before the well-dressed couple was gone. In all, they had spent seven-point-one seconds inside the building.

More than enough.

Talk to me, Juan said as soon they were outside.

The doorman's wearing a gun in a shoulder rig, Linda said. There was one camera covering the front door.

Juan stopped dead in the street, disregarding the rain. That's all you saw? His tone was both mocking and disappointed.

What? What did you see?

Okay first, the gun under his shoulder was obvious. His suit was tailored to highlight it. Anyone passing by was meant to see it. It's a deterrent. What you weren't supposed to see and what you didn't was the pistol strapped to his ankle. His pants flared like bell-bottoms to hide it, but not well enough. Guy that carries two pistols will probably have a submachine gun behind the counter. He's definitely Ninth Brigade and not the regular doorman. Tell me about the cameras.

Cameras? Linda asked. We were in there for two seconds. Like I said, I only saw one camera, and it was covering the front door.

Juan took a breath. He had no desire to teach a lesson in this kind of weather, but he felt that to bring Linda along to the next level he had no choice. Okay. We were in the lobby for a tick over seven seconds. From now on, you need to be precise. You observed one guard and one camera. Yes?

Linda didn't want to reply, but she mumbled, Yes.

There was a second camera inside, just above the revolving door, that covers the elevator and also the counter where the doorman sits. It looks like it was just installed. The feed wires are exposed and just sort of strung up. Dollars to doughnuts, it was put there when they brought Professor Wright to this building, and it's monitored from the penthouse suite.

How did you see it?

Reflection off the mirror next to the elevator doors.

Linda shook her head. When I saw the mirror, the only thing I saw was us. Well, me, actually.

Human nature, Juan replied. First thing people always look in a mirror or in a photograph for is themselves. It's simple vanity.

So what do we do now? Check the back service door?

No, it'll have cameras, too. We can get away with the tipsy, lost couple once, not twice. If they saw us again, they'd call the police, or just take us into custody themselves.

We're going with Mark's idea?

Sledgehammer it is. They found a vestibule a few doors down that sheltered them from the rain. The street was so quiet that they'd spot an approaching police car long before they could be seen. Juan raised Linc on the tactical radio. We're a go. How are you guys doing?

Mark's out on the street and already has a car hot-wired, Lincoln reported. I've found what we need and am just waiting for the word from you.

Mount up. About how long to get here?

So long as the harbor cops don't give me any trouble and we don't get pulled over, we should be there in an hour.

See you when you get here. Juan switched frequencies. Mike, you out there?

Just chilling with the fishes.

Move to waypoint Beta. All locations had been worked out long in advance.

On my way. There was a slight catch in Mike Trono's voice. He knew the Chairman was getting a bad feeling.

Why reposition the sub? Linda asked.

It occurred to me that with this weather, there are going to be a lot of police with little to do. Once the alarm's sounded, we're going to have every cop in BA after us.

Linda suddenly had Juan's bad feeling, too.

They circled around the block, moving only when they were certain no one was watching. Once, they had to hide behind trash Dumpsters near a construction zone when a patrol car eased by. The officer wasn't scanning the curbs. He was just focused on driving through the downpour. A miserable man walking a little dog was the only person they saw, and neither group acknowledged the other. The weather was just too nasty for pleasantries.

Juan touched the Bluetooth in his ear. Go ahead, Linc.

Wanna let you know that things are going smooth. Bluffed my way past the guards, no problem, even if my Spanish is rusty and I look about as native as a rhinoceros. Tell people you need to borrow something for the Ninth Brigade and the questions come to a halt.

That's the beauty of a police state. No one will stick his neck out. They've learned it can get chopped off.

Mark's right ahead of me, and we're getting close.

We'll see you coming.

Fifteen minutes later, a strange convoy rounded a far corner and started approaching. Murph was in the lead, driving a nondescript compact sedan. Emergency flashers on the roof were strobing a rhythmic orange beat as if to announce the vehicle behind him. Which was the point. Linc was behind the wheel of a mobile crane emblazoned with the logo of the Buenos Aires Port Authority. The vehicle really didn't have a body but rather a turret like an Army tank's, mounted on a heavy-duty chassis. Its wheels were twice the size of a car's tires. The collapsible boom was at its shortest but still protruded from the crane like a battering ram.

They would have to act fast because a big crane in the middle of a posh residential neighborhood would attract attention. Juan stripped off his overcoat and suit jacket and tore away the white oxford shirt. The clip-on tie went flying. It was a disguise, after all. Under it, he wore a black long-sleeved T-shirt and two empty shoulder holsters. He slipped on a pair of tight black gloves.

Linda was at the sedan's driver's-side door before Mark had come to a complete stop. She killed the two battery-operated flashers and plucked them off the roof. The suction cups used to hold them in place made an obscene smacking sound. Murph ran for the crane at the same time as the Chairman. While Mark was heading for the cab, Juan leapt for the industrial hook dangling from the boom and climbed his way atop it.

He was met there by Linc, who handed over an MP-5 as well as a pair of Fabrique Nationale Five-seveN automatic pistols, Cabrillo's weapon of choice because the small 5.7-millimeter bullets could defeat most body armor at close range. The extralong suppressor on the end of the submachine gun made it unwieldy.

The team was moving as though they had been choreographed. Juan jammed the pistols into his shoulder holsters at the same time Mark settled into the crane's cabin and Linda legged into the sedan. Sitting astride the boom, Franklin Lincoln tightened his grip with his thighs a second before Murph hit the hydraulics to extend it upward.

It was happening this fast.

That was the plan.

The boom telescoped up toward the fifth floor. Mark kept the engine noise to a minimum, sacrificing speed for stealth, but to Juan the crane sounded like a snarling animal. He and Linc rose atop the boom as it aimed for one of the dark apartment windows. A light snapped on a floor below their target as a homeowner was woken by the noise outside his bedroom. Thankfully, Espinoza's windows remained black.

Mark rammed the tip of the boom through the glass, and Linc and Cabrillo launched themselves into the room beyond. They landed as agile as cats, and both had their weapons ready when a man wearing camouflage opened the door to see what was happening. Both guns spat, and the man went down.

Linc whipped a pair of plastic ties around the guard's wrists. The bullets they were using were hardened rubber nonlethal, yet hitting with enough force to incapacitate a fully grown man. It was essentially the same as a blow from a baseball bat. They had considered using tranquilizer darts instead, but even the best drugs needed precious seconds to knock someone out.