dominic is chewing on a hamburger, engrossed in storm saxon. across the room, finch is reading the "roots of coincidence."
the door bursts open as creedy and a group of heavily armed fingermen muscle in.
finch glares at creedy.
a recording of vtv plays on the small television.
there are stacks of printout everywhere.
finch looks through the blinds at the morning sun. he has been up all night. he checks his watch: 6:00am.
finch sits alone, palms pressed to his bleary eyes.