Threat Level Black

Howe introduced Dalton; Blitz had undoubtedly met the scientist before but couldn’t quite place him. He listened for about thirty seconds as Howe went over the UAV’s capabilities, hypothesizing that it could be used to launch an E-bomb. While there weren’t any “hard connections”-he meant real evidence-the juxtaposition of the two technologies represented a real threat.

“Well, certainly,” said Blitz.

“So what are we going to do?” asked Howe.

“First thing, alert the task force investigating the E-bomb,” said Blitz.

“The FBI agent is on that task force,” said Howe. “They’re on it.”

“Good.”

“These UAVs would be very difficult to find by conventional radar systems,” explained Dalton. “We have a solution: Our integrated radar and sensor viewer could be tuned to pick them up.”

“I’m not sure I’m following,” said Blitz.

“We want to make the system available,” said Howe. “We have two.”

“We’re getting way ahead of ourselves here,” said Blitz. “They didn’t find power plants with those UAVs-or control systems.”

“There are a dozen engines that could be used,” said Dalton. “And the flight could be preprogrammed in.”

“Contracts with NADT have to go through a certain procedure,” said Blitz, pained that he had to explain this to Howe.

“This isn’t about contracts or money,” said Howe. “These units-we’ll give them to the government free. We’re concerned about the threat.”

Mozelle opened the door.

“I’ll tell you what, Colonel: Get with Teri Packard to discuss it,” Blitz said. Packard was an NSC aide who handled terrorism. “She’ll be in touch with the working group. She can talk to the military people. This way, if we need that capability, we’ll have it.”

“The Pentagon is on line two,” said Mozelle, pointing.

“I’m sorry,” said Blitz. “Things are hectic this morning because we’re flying up to New York with the President to address the UN. I’m afraid I have to go.”

Howe knew a blow-off when he experienced one. Still, he followed through dutifully, going over and briefing Packard on the UAV’s potential.

“DIA is pretty sure the E-bomb was just a hoax,” said Packard. “They’re pulling people back from the task force. So is Homeland Security. FBI has only one person still assigned, and his boss wants him back as well.”

“These things are a threat,” said Howe. “They could be shipped into the country in pieces, assembled, then flown off any local airstrip-even a deserted highway in the middle of the night.”

“Granted. But there’s no evidence that they’re here.”

Howe folded his arms.

“But we can get an alert out and have you tied into the review of the UAV’s capabilities,” added Packard, trying to seem conciliatory. “It would be good to have your expertise involved.”

“Great,” said Howe, getting up.

Chapter 17

Fisher spent Saturday and Sunday chasing leads from the credit card accounts. The closest he came to anything interesting was a farm run by former hippies in far northern New Jersey; the cows looked as though they were being fed hashish in the barn. Unsure whether that would be a matter for the DEA or the Future Farmers of America, he decided to look the other way.

The visit to Faud’s apartment and the subsequent adventure with the hand grenade had prevented Fisher from following up on Harry Spageas, the man who worked at the florist near Faud’s apartment. With Macklin and the NYPD continuing their interview of the neighbors-and with nothing definitive yet from the crime people checking out the bomb-Fisher headed over to Steve’s Florist on Monday morning to see the store owner and get Spageas’s address. The fact that the owner’s first name was Rose raised certain questions about predestination and parental premonition, but Fisher never got to raise them, for as he walked through the front door he found the proprietor being questioned by a uniformed NYPD officer. Rose had filed a complaint because both of her delivery vans had been stolen the night before.

“One is bad enough,” Rose complained. “But both? It shuts me down.”

Rose was the sort of woman who had begun tinting her black hair blond thirty years before and still did it now that the roots were coming in gray. She had a naturally indignant chin, and though she came up to about Fisher’s chest, she had shoulders a linebacker would spend thousands on supplements to get.

Fisher let the officer continue the interview. Rose thought that the vans must have been stolen by a competitor and gave the men a half-dozen leads.

“I didn’t realize the flower business was so cutthroat,” said Fisher when the cop was done.

“You’d be surprised,” said Rose.

“So they were here last night and they’re missing this morning,” said Fisher. “You’re sure they were here last night?”

“Mira said so, yes. She’s the manager.”

“I met her. You have an employee named Harry Spageas, right?”

“A damn good question,” said Rose. “He didn’t show up Friday.”

“Where does Harry live?” asked Fisher.