“Come away from the window, Doc. They’ll see you.” Rory was trying to act like a good soldier, but his voice was quavering with fear. “They’re moving slow but they’ll be here in the next ten minutes. Scouts could already be – -”

I cut him off: “Are the snipers in place?”

“Yes.”

“Are David and Eric’s teams in place?”

He nodded. “One in the chapel, one in the commissary.” He started to say something, stopped himself, and then blurted out: “They’re done playing with us, Doc. They’re setting the barracks on fire. We’ve got to get out of here.”

Stanford’s men had been circling like sharks for months, taking out any fish that strayed too far from the school. The electrified fence was like blood in the water. I was glad that he’d followed the scent, but I’d hoped for a little more time to train the shooters. A little more time to drill the kids on the lockdown. A little more time to prep medical supplies to handle the wounded. But time was up.

“Operation Lago is a go. Send the word. I’ll make sure everyone else is in lockdown.”

Rory started to go, then turned back to me again. His hands were shaking. “Doc? If ‘Lago’ doesn’t… if it doesn’t work… do you think we can hide, stay quiet and ride this out?”

I’d known Rory since he was a baby. I’d played Bunko once a month with his mother and the rest of the wine-soaked PTA moms. I wanted to comfort him. But time was up. So I just said, “No.”