Santa Barbara—1993

"Spencer," Chief Frank Kemp stuck his head out of his office, gesturing at Henry. "My office. Now."

Henry nodded, quickly making his way across the precinct.

He stepped into the Chief's office. The shorter, balding man was sitting behind his desk, his hands folded authoritatively on top as he surveyed the three people in front of him.

In addition to Henry, who had just walked in and was now looking for a seat, there was Karen Vick, a young detective who had started with the precinct just a few years before, and her partner, Jonah Talbot. They were both sitting on the edge of their chairs, a nervous energy palpable between them.

"Sit," Kemp ordered Henry when he took too long to find a seat. Henry quickly obeyed, his heart starting to pound slightly as he realized he was about to be let in on something big.

"Chief, we don't need Spencer on this," Jonah was already protesting, shooting Henry an apologetic glance out of the corner of his eye. "No offense, Spencer."

Kemp cut off the argument with a sharp wave of his hand. "Drop it. He's in, like it or not. We don't have time--"

"Time?" Henry repeated in confusion, not even letting the Chief finish his thought as he already felt his body starting to race against the unknown clock. "Sir, if this is time sensitive, shouldn't you just tell me what the hell is going on instead of arguing about whether or not to tell me?"

Kemp nodded slowly, running his hand over his glistening nearly-bare scalp. He picked a yellow envelope up off his desk and tossed it to Henry, who caught it and immediately opened it, pulling out the single paper that was inside.

"What--?" he started to ask, but stopped when he saw was printed on it.

It was a photocopy of a newspaper article about Jonah Talbot's latest bust. He had managed to infiltrate a smuggling ring, which had led the DA to file twenty-seven indictments.

In the article, he was grinning at the camera, his arms folded almost cockily across his chest, every strand of his short-clipped brown hair perfectly in place.

Across the bottom of the photocopy, someone had cut and pasted newspaper letters out to form sentences.

He busted them--

It's time to bust him.

Will he still be grinning when Round 1 ends?

Only time will tell.

Underneath the words, there was a photograph of a cat clock, its tail swinging back and forth like a metronome. The hands indicated the time was 2:45.

Underneath that, someone had signed it with a single word—YANG.

Instinctively, Henry looked down at his watch as soon as he read the note.

It was already 12:45.

Assuming the note was meant for today, they only had two hours to figure out what the hell this note meant.

"It arrived in the mail today," the Chief pressed on quickly, bringing him up to speed. "We have FBI analysts coming in to look at it, but we don't have time to wait for them to get here. Not if 2:45 means two hours from now."

"I'm telling you, Chief, it's just a local crackpot," Jonah spoke up, swiping his hand through the air carelessly. "I stepped on a lot of toes with that bust. Someone's just trying to get me to back off so I won't testify. It's not going to work."

"If it's just a crackpot," Karen spoke up, looking concerned as she glanced between her partner and Henry. "Why set a time for round 1 to end? And why wouldn't they tell you exactly what that means?"

"Because it doesn't mean anything!" Jonah argued, his pale green eyes flashing defiantly as he snatched the letter away from Henry and tossed it back on the Chief's desk. He stood up, his thin, wiry frame springing from his chair and towards the door in one easy motion. "I'm not going to waste my time shaking in my boots over this stupid, vague whatever-the-hell it is."

He left the office, the door shutting loudly behind him.

Karen sighed, shaking her head. "I think he's wrong," she murmured, her forehead creasing as she picked up the note and read it for what Henry guessed had to be the hundredth time. "This Yang, whoever they are…I don't think it's an idle threat."

"It's not," Henry agreed. "They signed their name. Whatever happens, this psycho wants credit. They want us to know who they are, and they want us to know there's not a damn thing we can do to stop them."