"Uh . . .no sir. We've been working with the injured . . .I'm sure you . . ."
"Of course. I'm sorry." Kavitz waved off the explanation. "Must have been pretty rough." He looked around and shook his head. "Anything else officer?"
"No sir, that's about it. We still don't have an exact count though."
"It'll come soon enough. Soon enough." Kavitz left the young patrolman and walked into the bloodbath, pausing only briefly before opening the driver's side door. "Let's see what's in this thing."
* * * * *
"D'y'hear about the mess over at Times Square?" Ben Shellhorne walked up to Scott Mason's desk at the City Times.
"Yeah, pretty gruesome. The Exchange . . .McDonald's. You really scrape the bottom, don't you?" Scott grinned devilishly at Ben.
"Maybe some guys do, not me." Ben sat down next to Scott's desk.
"But that's not the point. There's something else."
"What's that?" Scott turned to Ben.
"The van."