At the District One Substation just off Fletcher Avenue, Brook Lawton eyed his assembled ERT team. Briefings were standard operating procedure, but more often than not, they took place in the field, behind a grimy convenience store or while jostling down the road in the ERT van. It was a luxury to do it in the office with maps and slides and some professionalism. Since the tiger sightings had been in District One, Lawton had his team set up in their office.
The smell of fresh cordite was in the air; someone had come right from the range. Lawton finished off a stale donut from the box on the front table, swallowing it with two Advils. His jaw still ached but he didn’t want to take any prescription painkiller now.
Most of the guys were too bulky to fit into the desk and chairs even without
