Daemon

also be tricky. Sparks from cutting the iron might set off fire detection systems. ‘Got the caretaker’s key?’
    Chapman leaned forward and placed it in Guerner’s heavily gloved hand. He was surprised by the key’s weight. You could break a window with it. He examined it closely: a straight brass rod with a crystal embedded on its end. Or was that a diamond? He looked at the lock. Custom. The mechanism was most likely attuned to the precise vibrating frequency of the crystal when subjected to an electrical current. Some sophisticated shit.
    He looked to his partners. ‘Window.’
    They moved down to the nearest large window. It was off to the right about fifteen feet. Guerner peered through the glass. Beyond lay a living room with a high, beamed ceiling, stucco walls, and a large fireplace. Tall bookshelves lined the walls. A sofa and authentic-looking mission furniture were placed tastefully about the room. He spotted at least two motion sensors in the upper corners near the ceiling. Sprinkler caps dotted the ceiling as well. It made sense, this far from the road. It also meant there was an emergency fire pump or a fire department hookup outside. He didn’t remember seeing that in the blueprints.
    He kept looking through the window. ‘Limon. Are there sprinkler heads shown on the blueprints?’
    Guerner heard his partners flipping through the plans.
    ‘Not shown.’
    ‘Damnit. The plans aren’t accurate.’ He looked closely at the edges of the window frame. He shined a Maglite into the corners. No visible sensors, but he knew it was alarmed. Decker had ordered Guerner to treat the place as a potential death trap. In light of the electrocution at CyberStorm, Guerner intended to. He considered the front door key again, then led his team back to the front door.
    ‘The caretaker deactivated the alarm and used her front door key just this morning without incident. I say we do the same.’ He looked to the other two.
    Limon and Chapman nodded.
    Limon handed him a short pole with a gripping claw on the end. Guerner took it and fitted the key onto its end. He extended his arm and, using a steady hand, inserted the key into the lock. There was no need to turn it; it emitted a loud
click
. He let go of the key and used the pole to depress the lever doorknob. He took a deep breath, then nudged it inward. It opened very smoothly for such a large door.
    They peered inside. Limon tried to get a frequency readingagain, while Chapman pulled an aerosol can from his toolbox. Chapman looked to Guerner, who nodded. Chapman sprayed a smoky mist evenly into the foyer doorway.
    All three men scanned the smoke-filled air for laser beams. Nothing.
    Guerner gave the hand signal to advance.
    He was first through the door, prodding ahead with the pole. He slowly skirted the edge of the foyer and looked around the room. It was gorgeous. His partners followed him inside. Limon slipped a plastic wedge underneath the front door to keep it open.
    Guerner checked his radio. ‘Blue Team Leader, this is Unit B, do you copy? Over.’ There was nothing but static.
    Limon looked at him. ‘This whole place is a storm of radio signals.’
    Suddenly they heard a noise of movement upstairs. Like someone walking around. Footsteps echoing on hardwood. They looked at each other. Guerner grabbed his radio. ‘Blue Team Leader, we’ve got someone in here. Do you read?’ Still static.
    Just then a voice called out clearly from the end of the hallway upstairs. ‘Who’s there?’ The voice echoed in the marble foyer.
    Guerner unsnapped his holster cover and raised his visor. ‘This is the FBI! Show yourself with your hands on your head!’
    No reply. But they heard walking again. The footsteps came down the marble stairs to their right, some distance away from them. They could clearly see the staircase, but no one was there. They could hear the sound of a hand sliding down the metal railing.
    Instinctively they all drew their pistols.
    Limon smacked Guerner in the arm. ‘Jesus, what are we, idiots? This is a trick.’ He still didn’t lower his pistol.
    Guerner focused on the staircase. ‘I know. But it’s a fucking impressive one.’
    The footsteps were moving across the floor to them now.
    Guerner motioned toward the front door. ‘Let’s back it up, guys.’
    Then, in midair not five feet in front of them, a man’s voice shouted, ‘You don’t belong here!’
    What happened next surprised even the veteran Guerner. The deepest sound