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CHAPTER 27
JUSTINE WAS DESPERATE to interview Seth Ryedale and ask him about the member of his workforce identified by Mo-bot as a possible suspect, but they hadn’t wanted to make an enemy of Luiz Salazar. A cooperative NYPD detective was invaluable to them, so she and Sci made good on the bargain they’d struck with Salazar and didn’t arrive in Connecticut until after lunch the following day. Sci was driving the New York staff vehicle, a red Nissan Rogue. Justine was in the passenger seat, worrying about Jack. He had texted to say they were following up a new lead and had requested some support from Mo-bot to help the Beijing team restore their systems and implement remote working. Mo-bot was currently back at the office in Manhattan making it all happen.
They turned off the Connecticut Turnpike just outside Bridgeport and drove into an industrial estate of warehousesand factories. Sci followed the GPS instructions until they saw the large black sign announcing Ryedale Engineering that hung on a high chain-link fence. Behind the fence was a parking lot and an aluminum-sided warehouse with silver-tinted windows. This was the source of the detonators that had been found in the Private office.
Sci drove up to the gatehouse. A security guard came out and greeted them.
“Afternoon, sir, ma’am. Who are you here to see?”
“Seth Ryedale,” Sci replied.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“Tell him it’s about the bombs found in Manhattan.”
“Your names?”
“Seymour Kloppenberg and Justine Smith. We’re from Private. The bombs were found in our office.”
“Just a moment.”
The guard returned to the gatehouse and made a phone call. He spoke briefly to someone before he re-emerged.
“Go ahead,” he said. “Visitor parking is near the entrance.”
“Thanks,” Sci responded as the guard raised the barrier and allowed them to pass.
There were forty or so vehicles parked in the lot, and all six visitor spaces were empty. Sci pulled into the one closest to the door and they headed inside.
“Mr. Kloppenberg, Ms. Smith,” a man said the moment they entered the lobby through the silver-tinted sliding doors. “My name is Seth Ryedale. I run this place. I’m so sorry about what happened.”
Ryedale was a tall, muscular man in his early forties. His boots, jeans, and sky-blue T-shirt made Justine think of a ranch hand, and the rough stubble that covered his chiseled jawline only added to the illusion.
“The cops told me they think the detonators came from here, so as you can imagine I’m pretty bummed out by all this.”
“Can we talk somewhere private?” Sci asked. Seth shook his head.
“Look, I don’t mean to offend you but I’ve already told the police everything I know. If you’ve got any questions, take it up with them.”
“You sure you don’t want to go somewhere private?” Sci pressed.
Seth shrugged. “We’ve got nothing to talk about.”
“Then we’ll do this here,” Sci replied, nodding at Justine.
“Our investigation has revealed you have an employee here who is using a Social Security number flagged as part of a data theft from the Commerce Bank of Boston,” she began.
“What the hell?” Seth remarked, lowering his voice so as not to be overheard by the receptionist.
“You can see why we wanted to do this in private,” Justine said.
“Fake social security?” asked Seth.
“Probably bought online,” Sci chimed in.
“Who?” Seth asked, his expression hardening.
“Francis Johnson,” Justine replied.
