Cut and Run 4 - Divide and Conquer

hyperventilating, “and he‟s coming with a
    bomb.”
    Zane stared at him hard for a few heartbeats, then turned to see if
    Ty had heard. Ty met his eyes, hand dropping as if in slow motion,
    body already tensing and gears already turning—he was trying to
    decide the best way to sound the alarm without causing a mass panic,
    and Zane wasn‟t sure it would be possible.
    “Do you know where he is?” Zane asked the boy. If this kid knew
    Zane and had a connection to Pierce, the chance of this being legit was
    way too high.
    “No, I got out just before him. I couldn‟t let him do it.” The kid
    looked about to break into tears. “But I couldn‟t stop him. I was
    afraid.” Zane grasped his shoulder for a moment before turning to Ty.
    “The families?” Zane bit off, noting that the agents gathered
    around them had focused on the disturbance.
    Ty turned and whispered to the man beside him, then moved to
    speak to another, trying to get word around quickly. Then a commotion
    broke out on the other side of the crowd.
    “It‟s him,” the kid said, pointing, voice high with terror.
    With his height, Zane saw over crowds better than most, and he
    zeroed in on a person pushing through the civilians gathered by the
    family under the awning. Zane didn‟t wait.
    “Bomb! Down!” he yelled harshly, trying to shove through the
    crowd while pulling his Glock and focusing on the young man he
    recognized as Pierce Sutton.
    His words were met with complete stasis. For crucial seconds, no
    one moved. No one seemed to comprehend. Then time kicked into fast
    forward, and the panic and comprehension crashed through the crowd
    on a wave as agents pulled their weapons and people hit the ground.
    Zane stopped and raised his gun. Pierce bulled his way toward the
    casket, clambered up on the side rail to snatch the tightly folded
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    American flag in one hand, and he waved it around, his face twisted
    into a snarl, before throwing it to the ground and jumping off the casket
    to land on it with two booted feet.
    “Son of a bitch!” Ty growled from beside Zane.
    Zane saw his chance as Pierce deliberately reached into his
    trenchcoat: the civilians had cleared out, the minister ducked behind a
    nearby oak tree, and he had a few seconds for a clear shot.
    He wasn‟t the only one who took it.
    A volley of bullets tore into Pierce Sutton before he could utter a
    word, sending his body jerking like a puppet on slashed strings to the
    ground.
    Time slowed. Silence reigned again. Several heartbeats, and then
    the frozen tableau broke. Civilians milled about in confusion, and
    Bureau agents fanned out and around the gravesite, checking for further
    threats as the family gathered together, most of them sobbing angrily.
    As another agent needlessly checked for a pulse, Zane stopped to
    stand next to the body of the young man who had masterminded bank
    robberies amounting to hundreds of thousands of dollars in losses,
    deliberately promoted ill will and hatred in the city, and caused tens of
    millions of dollars in damages and destroyed property in four separate
    bombings that had also resulted in scores of injuries and three deaths.
    When Lydia Reeves had died, Pierce Sutton had become a dead
    man walking.
    Zane holstered his gun as people started drifting closer. The
    cacophony that utterly destroyed the quiet peace of the cemetery was
    giving him a headache. He‟d noticed that being blind had by necessity
    sharpened his hearing, and now he was paying for it. Children sobbing,
    raised and nervous voices chattering, law enforcement vehicles arriving
    with sirens on, Bureau agents yelling out perimeter checks, and to top it
    off, an unexpected boom of thunder echoing from the roiling clouds
    overhead.
    Ty stopped beside him, then bent down to pluck the flag from
    under the dead kid‟s foot.
    “Crime scene, Grady,” someone reminded breathlessly.
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    “Don‟t care,” Ty shot back as he saved the flag.
    Zane was pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to ward off the
    pain, when he heard a nagging sound that didn‟t fit. Frowning, he
    looked around for a cart or machine nearby. He wasn‟t wearing a
    watch. But he could just barely hear a measured clicking.
    Zane‟s chest seized, and he looked down at the body as Ty
    rescued the flag. A flash of metal mostly covered by the trenchcoat
    caught his eye, and a streak of pure fear burned through him as he saw
    a wireless timing