Page 116 of Beyond Protection
"We proceed with the cabin raid as scheduled."
I looked at the photos. Me existing in public while someone recorded my deterioration like a specimen.
"I'll do it," I said.
Eamon's hand landed on my shoulder. "Mac—"
"She's threatening my family. Ma, Claire, and everyone in that house. If we can end this before she gets near them—"
"Not at your expense."
I looked up. His jaw was tight, gazing intently at me.
"It's my choice."
"It's a bad choice."
"Maybe. But it's mine."
His hand didn't leave my shoulder. "If we do this, I'm in your ear the entire time. Any deviation, any sense she's moving, and I pull you out. Non-negotiable."
"Agreed."
I turned to Clairmont. "Timeline?"
She pulled out a laminated map. "Position you by eleven hundred. Plainclothes officers here, here, and here. Sniper on the Economy Market rooftop. If she approaches, you stall. We move in."
"And if she's armed?"
"Overwatch has a clean backstop. If she presents a firearm, we interdict; overwatch is a last resort."
My stomach lurched. Someone could get shot.
"The cabin raid still happens?"
"Eighteen hundred tomorrow for assembly. Twenty-one hundred breach. Two hours north in Concrete. We go in fast, clear the structure." Clairmont's expression didn't change. "But if we take her at the market first, the cabin becomes evidence collection."
I looked at my hands. They had both signed autographs and caught line drives.
Now they'd be bait.
My father's hands had looked like this. Callused. Scarred. The hands of someone who did what needed doing.
"Okay," I said. "Let's go."
Clairmont directed me to the precinct locker room. A folding table in the center held equipment—transmitters, battery packs, medical tape, and monitors with green sine waves.
A technician gestured to a chair. "Have a seat."
The metal was cold through my jeans. Eamon positioned himself against a wall, watching everything.
"Shirt off," she said.
I pulled my henley over my head. The air bit at my skin—too cold, reeking of disinfectant.
She opened a small case. Inside was a microphone no bigger than a button. "Center mass. Battery life is eight hours. You'll feel a vibration at the two-hour mark."
She pressed it against my sternum. The adhesive was cold.
