J. Mitch Hopper
Bill stood up. "I did a quick look around. Didn't spend too much time inside and I didn't touch anything. It's a mess all right. He took the lady out with a short section of two by four. Just left her where she dropped. He's no pretty sight either. Looks like the SWAT team got him with several shots to the head from either side. He's crumpled down in front of the bench and kind of hung up on a bunch of wires that come out of the, ah, device."
"Is it armed?" Marcus asked.
"You're not sure?"
"No. Like I said, I didn't touch anything. Just got in, had a look, and got the hell out."
"See, your training is starting to pay off already. You did right." Marcus picked up a blast protection coat and started to put it on. "But now we gotta go in and see just what this gentleman was up to."
Marcus always referred to bomb builders as gentlemen. It seemed out of place and inappropriate to casual observers, but it was natural for the team. Marcus learned long ago that the worst baggage to carry while trying to defuse explosives was anger. It clouded the judgement and closed the mind to the subtle possibilities of being so close to the Creator.