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his right hand resting on his Sig Sauer, just in case. The garage door started to open. Riley and his crew came around the fence from the right and Subject and his crew from the left. Eight cops in total were standing in position at the end of the driveway, thirty feet from the garage door. When the garage door opened, the good guys were waiting.
    “POLICE!”
Riles yelled in his booming voice. “Put your hands where I can see them!”
    The driver and man in the passenger seat quickly complied. A team of four cops moved to the van’s left side and opened the sliding door. Three men exited, hands in the air, and walked out to the driveway and laid face down on the ground. Patrol units pulled into the alley and more police invaded the scene. Mac took it all in quietly, a satisfied smirk on his face.
    “Let’s go down,” Lich said, and led Mac downstairs and out the back door. By the time they reached the alley, everyone was in cuffs and lying face down on the driveway. Riles approached Mac, a huge smile on his face as he shook his head. “Unbelievable. Baseball cards,” he just shook his head. “We nailed these guys because of flippin’ baseball cards.”
    Mac just smiled as Riles walked away, calling the chief. Mac’s own phone started buzzing in his pocket. He pulled the phone out and looked at the display.
    “Who is it?” Lich asked.
    Mac showed the phone’s display to Lich.
    “She’s so hot,” Dicky Boy panted.
    Mac chuckled and rolled his eyes, “Dara Wire, as I live and breathe, how the hell are ya?” Mac asked enthusiastically. “You won’t believe what I’m doing right now. I’m standing here with Lich and we just took down this … Wait, what? … Say that again? You’re serious? … I know, I know, I know, you’re always serious, but really, he wants to see us in the morning? … Yeah, I saw that on the news. … Boy, I don’t know about getting involved in that. … No, I suppose you’re right, I can’t really say no to at least meeting. … No I don’t suppose I can. I’ll see you then.” Mac hung up.
    “What was that all about?” Dick asked.
    “I have to get on a plane and go back to DC.”
    “What for?”
    “I have a meeting at the White House,” Mac replied, a confused look on his face.
    “The White House, really?”
    “Yeah.”
    “With who?”
    “Wire, Judge Dixon and FBI Director Mitchell.”
    “What about?”
    “The Reaper.”

CHAPTER THREE
“A unique perspective.”
Washington, DC.
    D ara Wire was waiting in the arrival lane with her Range Rover when Mac walked out of the Delta Airlines arrivals door at 10:45 A.M. , sharply dressed in a dark blue suit with a navy blue dress shirt and dark burgundy tie. Mac deposited his garment bag in the backseat and jumped in the front seat to find a large Dunkin Donuts coffee awaiting his arrival.
    “You know me so well,” he exclaimed happily as he took a long drink of the dark roast as Wire pulled away from the curb. He put the coffee back in the cup holder and glanced over to Wire and immediately noticed a difference in her. She had a relaxed, light happiness about her, a kind of glow.
    “Dara Wire,” Mac observed with a big cheese-eating grin, “you got laid.”
    She blushed, but gave him a very satisfied smile, “Repeatedly.”
    “It’s about damn time,” he replied approvingly.
    Wire maneuvered her Range Rover quickly through the midmorning traffic, the capital’s rush hour over for a good hour. They had met and become fast friends and temporary partners less than a week before the presidential election. Mac was working a murder of a Washington-based political blogger in St. Paul. Wire, a former FBI special agent, was working for the Thomson Campaign, watching the campaign manager for the vice president’s campaign, when their paths and investigations crossed. Judge Dixon, knowing both of their abilities, arranged for the two of them to work together. Their investigation saved the election. After the election,