“The gasoline, man,” and Kyle came up right next to Quinn, as if to whisper conspiratorially. “Two cans of it-just sitting there. You wouldn’t believe it. When it went off, it was like a bomb. A large explosion.”

“Jesus, was anybody hurt?” Quinn asked, for the first time really looking at Kyle. But Kyle still had that far away look, as if he were replaying the whole thing in his mind.

“Was anybody hurt?” Quinn repeated, with more emphasis.

“What? Oh, no,” Kyle said. “No, the guy knew there was no way. He just got his family out and ran. Ran and ran. But the garage really went up. I saw that fire burning, and whew! What a doozy. Fireguys said they hadn’t seen one like that since the gas explosion over in Ashburn.”

Quinn didn’t respond. He didn’t want to talk about the gas explosion in Ashburn. Janus and he had been the first on that scene-before even the police arrived. It wasn’t a pleasant memory.

“Amazing,” Kyle said again, shaking his head.

“But nobody got hurt,” Quinn repeated.

“No, no,” Kyle said and his voice appeared to echo with disappointment.

Quinn wasn’t sure though and quickly dismissed it. Injured people might make a better story, but he doubted even Kyle was that cold-blooded.

The guy was a softie, despite a muscular build and an almost fu-Manchu mustache-not to mention an obsession with WWF wrestling that bordered on serious psychosis. He wanted the story, but he wasn’t the type to really want someone dead.

“Amazing,” he said again and wandered back to his desk.

Quinn rolled his eyes.

Within two hours, much of the rest of the staff started to arrive.

Janus showed up first, predictably announcing himself by chucking a mini-basketball at Quinn’s head.

“Head’s up,” he yelled a second before he cut it loose.

Quinn nabbed it out of the air with terrific speed.