They dragged Eglemann out of the toppled step van after freeing her from a tangle of smashed and hanging electronics. She looked all right for someone put through a Vegematic of spewed truck debris. A nasty gouge at one temple, a reddening, swelling cheek, and an assortment of musses, scrapes, and contusions. Her glasses hung from one arm, the wire frame twisted and one lens missing. She wobbled, wiped the blood from her face, and sat up on the asphalt with Ruiz's help.

"Ouch," she said.

"What happened?" Garrett asked her. "We lost commo with you. Where's the thing that came through ahead of us? Where's Ratchic and his man?"

"There's another guy in here," Silvestri said from the rear of the van. He crouched atop one splayed-open cargo door,...

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