“Then I guess that's the first objective."
"Jesus, do you want to go in shooting?" She looked around at the motley men of ARM. “Those are my people in there, you know, my friends. It could be a bloodbath."
"Doesn't have to be." Spiros had pulled back his balaclava and was shaking Vance's hand with an air of genuine contrition. Maybe trying to cheer him up after Cally Andros's blast. "Michael, I'm damned sorry about all this. The whole thing is my fault, really."
"Spilt milk," Vance replied. "Now we have to look ahead."
"Well, it's my spilt milk, as you say," Spiros declared, "and I want to clean it up myself. If all we need to do is take down Ramirez, I think I can get in there and maybe do it without too much in the way of pyrotechnics."
"What do you mean?" Armont asked.
"Let me go in by myself, alone. I've got a uniform, so I'll just be another Greek mechanic. At least we should try that first. See what I can do."
"Dimitri, that's a heroic offer," Armont said, "but—"
"No, it's not heroic, it's realistic. It's a chance, but one I think we should take."
"We don't stay in business by taking chances," Armont declared, vetoing him on the spot. "We go in as a team."