Page 89 of Mastermind

“What?” asks Gerald.

“I’m so, so stupid. He was right there. So close. And I think I know exactly where.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

OPERATIONS

The Department of Homeland Security’s temporary operations center in Manhattan is located in the Ritz-Carlton ballroom. Here, hundreds of federal agents, NYPD officers, and other law enforcement personnel are scattered around tables, going over computer screens and documents as they try to identify the perpetrators of the Manhattan Void.

Rachel Penn, the FBI liaison for the operation, greets Theo and me at the check-in station by the entrance. She’s a tall woman dressed in a blazer and slacks, like me, though her clothes are newer and more stylish than the utilitarian wardrobe I’ve sported lately.

“Agent Blackwood,” she says, offering her hand. She gives Theo a more circumspect nod. “Dr. Cray. My station is this way.”

She leads us to a table in the corner of the room where her laptop rests next to stacks of folders and rolled-up posters. Gerald said that Penn was the one to ask about details of the investigation and that she could provide me with whatever we needed. From her response to Theo, I’m beginning to suspect that offer might be conditional.

Both Mandy and Gerald have made it clear, albeit indirectly, that there’s a faction within the FBI that’s no fan of Theo Cray. I’m not too surprised. There’s a faction that isn’t fond of me, either.

Not all of it is unearned, I have to admit. Besides my proclivity for chaos, I had a relationship with a man who is a person of interest to the FBI and a suspect in several cases. While I know Damian has broken more than a few laws, as far as I know he always acted in the interest of protecting me . . . perhaps too zealously.

I suspect that working with Theo is only making me more of a suspicious character to people who already had their doubts. There’s not much I can do about that. In desperate times we have to look at alternate ways of getting things done.

“How is the investigation going?” I ask.

Penn glances at Theo, then back to me. “We’ve made some arrests. We’re pushing for more information.”

Okay. So that’s how it’s gonna be. She just gave me the verbatim response they’ve been feeding to the press. Penn considers me untrustworthy, at least with Theo around. I decide to keep this short and to the point.

“I need the thermal-imaging maps from the night of the Void.”

“Do you have authorization?” she replies.

“Check your email from Gerald Voigt again if you have doubt,” I say flatly.

“Fine.” She picks up a rolled-up poster from the table and hands it to me. “Here.”

She expects me to thank her and walk away, but I want to make sure this is what we came for. I take the rubber band off and spread the poster out on the table.

It shows an overhead thermal image of Manhattan taken by a satellite one hour into the event. There are half a dozen bright splotches on the grid, showing locations where power was still running. Some of them are the size of a block and contain dozens of buildings. Searching them all could take months.

I look across the table and notice three more poster tubes by her computer. “May I see those?”

“Fine.” She hands me the other posters.

I unroll them all and lay them on the table. They also show thermal images of the city but with different bright spots. “Why the difference?” I ask, pretending Penn hadn’t been hostile.

“Some of them had backup generators that came online, only to be taken out by EMPs or overloads,” she replies.

“Is there any reason you didn’t want to show me these?” I ask bluntly.

“You didn’t ask for all the thermal images. I wasn’t clear on what you were looking for.” She checks her watch. “I have a meeting I have to go to. I need the other images.”

“Hold on,” says Theo. “May I?”

I step back. Theo takes the images and stacks them on top of each other, lining up the outline of Manhattan. He then flips through the posters, letting them flutter like a children’s flip-book.

“There,” he says, putting his finger on one tiny bright spot that never lost power throughout the event.

“What’s that?” I ask Penn.