Jeffery Deaver - The burning wire

Rhyme said, "Galt isn't necessarily behaving rationally."

"True."

"Can you do it? Meet his demand?"

"No, we can't. It's impossible. It's just like before, with the grid in New York City, except worse. It would cut out service to thousands of small towns around the country. And there are direct feeds into military bases and research facilities. Homeland Security's saying to shut it down would be a national security risk. The Defense Department concurs."

Rhyme added, "And presumably you'd be losing millions of dollars."

A pause. "Yes. We would. We'd be in breach of hundreds of contracts. It would be a disaster for the company. But, anyway, the argument about complying is moot. We physically couldn't do this in the time he's given us. You don't just flip a wall switch with seven hundred thousand volts."

"All right," Rhyme said. "How did you get the note?"

"Galt gave it to one of our employees."

Rhyme and Sachs exchanged glances.

Jessen continued, explaining that Galt accosted security chief Bernard Wahl as the man was returning from lunch.

"Is Wahl there with you?" Sachs asked.

"Hold on a minute," Jessen said. "He was being debriefed by the FBI… Let me see."

Sellitto whispered, "They didn't fucking bother to even tell us they were talking to him, the feebies? It had to come from her?"

A moment later solid-shouldered Bernard Wahl appeared on the screen and sat down next to Andi Jessen. His round, black scalp glistened.

"Hello," Sachs said.

The handsome face nodded.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, Detective."

He wasn't all right, though, Rhyme could see. His eyes were hollow. They were avoiding the webcam.

"Tell us what happened."

"I was coming back from lunch. And Galt came up behind me with a gun and took me to an alleyway. Then he shoved the letter into my pocket and said get it to Ms. Jessen right away. Then he was gone."

"That's all?"

A hesitation. "Pretty much. Yes, ma'am."

"Did he say anything that might lead us to where he's hiding out or where the next target might be?"

"No. Mostly he just rambled about electricity causing cancer and being dangerous and how nobody cares."

Rhyme was curious about something. "Mr. Wahl? Did you see the weapon? Or was he bluffing?"

Another hesitation. Then the security man said, "I caught a look. A forty-five. Nineteen-eleven. The old army model."

"Did he grab you? We could get some trace evidence off your clothes."

"No. Only his gun."

"Where'd this happen?"

"Somewhere in an alley near B and R Auto Repair. I don't really remember, sir. I was pretty shaken up."

Sachs asked, "And that was it? He didn't ask anything about the investigation?"

"No, ma'am, he didn't. I think all he cared about was getting the letter to Ms. Jessen right away. He couldn't think of another way to do it except to stop an employee."

Rhyme had no more questions for him. He glanced to Sellitto, who shook his head.

They thanked him, and Wahl moved off camera. Jessen looked up, nodding at somebody who'd come into the doorway. Then back to the camera for the video conference. "Gary Noble and I are meeting with the mayor. Then I'm doing a press conference. I'll make that personal appeal to Galt. Do you think that'll work?"

No, Rhyme didn't think it would work. But he said, "Anything you can do-even if it just buys us some time."

After they disconnected the call, Sellitto asked, "What wasn't Wahl telling us?"

"He got scared. Galt threatened him. He probably gave up some information. I'm not too worried. He was out of the loop pretty much. But whatever he spilled, frankly, we can't worry about that now."

At that moment the doorbell rang. It was Tucker McDaniel and the Kid.

Rhyme was surprised. The FBI agent would have known there was a pending press conference and yet here he was, not leveraging his way onto the podium. He'd yielded to Homeland Security so he could bring evidence to Rhyme in person.

The ASAC's stock rose slightly once more.

After being briefed about Galt and his motive, the agent asked Pulaski, "And in his apartment you found no reference to Justice For or Rahman? Terrorist cells?"

"No, nothing."

The agent looked disappointed but said, "Still, that doesn't contradict a symbiosis construct."

"Which is?" Rhyme asked.

"A traditional terror operation using a front man, with mutually aligned goals. They may not even like each other but they want the same thing in the end. An important aspect is that the professional terror cell keeps themselves completely isolated from the primary negative actor. And all communications is-"

"Cloud?" Rhyme asked, the agent's index dipping a bit now.

"Exactly. They have to minimize any contact. Two different agendas. They want societal destruction. He wants revenge." McDaniel nodded at the profile on the whiteboard. "What Parker Kincaid was saying. Galt didn't use pronouns-didn't want to give away any clue that he was working with somebody else."

"Eco or political/religious?"

"Could be either."

It was hard to picture al-Qaida or the Taliban in league with an unstable employee bent on revenge because his company had given him cancer. But an ecoterror group made some sense. They'd need somebody to help them get into the system. Rhyme would find it more credible, though, if there was some evidence to support that supposition.

McDaniel added that he'd heard from the warrants people, who'd gotten the okay for T and C teams to go through Galt's email and social networking accounts. Galt had emailed and posted comments in a number of places about his cancer and its relationship to high-power lines. But nothing in the hundreds of pages he'd written had given them any clues to where he was or what he might have in store.

Rhyme was growing impatient at the speculation. "I'd like to see the note, Tucker."

"Sure." The ASAC gestured at the Kid.

Please, be chock-full of trace. Something helpful.

In sixty seconds they were looking at the second demand letter. To Andi Jessen, CEO and Algonquin Consolidated Power and Light:

You've made the decision to ignore my earlier request and that's not acceptable. You could have responded to that reasonable request for a brownout but you didn't, YOU have raised the stakes, no one else has. Your callusness and greed lead to the deaths this afternoon. You MUST show the people they do not need the drug that you've addicted them to. They can return to a PURER way of life. They don't think they can but they can be shown the way. You will cease all high voltage DC transmission to the other North American Interconnections for one hour starting at 6 p.m. this evening. This is non-negotiable.

Cooper began his analysis of the letter. Ten minutes later he said, "There's nothing new, Lincoln. Same paper, same pen. Unsourceable. As far as trace goes, more jet fuel. That's about it."

"Shit." Like opening a beautifully wrapped box on Christmas morning and finding it empty.

Rhyme noticed Pulaski in the corner. His head, with the blond spiky hair, was cast forward as he spoke softly into his mobile. The conversation seemed furtive and Rhyme knew it didn't have anything to do with the Galt case. He'd be calling the hospital about the man he'd run into. Or maybe he'd gotten the name of the next of kin and was offering condolences.

"You with us, Pulaski?" Rhyme called harshly.

Pulaski snapped his phone shut. "Sure, I-"

"Because I really need you with us."

"I'm with you, Lincoln."

"Good. Call FAA and TSA and tell them we've had another demand and that we've found more jet fuel on the second note. They should step up security at all the airports. And call the Department of Defense too. It could be an attack on a military airfield, especially if Tucker's terrorist connection pans out. You up for that? Talking to the Pentagon? Impressing the risk on them?"