Unsolved (Invisible #2) - James Patterson Page 0,18
small-talk conversations throughout the day, the unnecessary staff meetings, the cake-in-the-conference-room birthday parties.
And yes, I admit it—I have to acknowledge it—staying home lessens the fear. I tell myself it’s in the past, but every now and again, it creeps up behind me and wraps its arm around my throat. When I’m in the car, on the elevator, at the grocery store. And it doesn’t slowly build up—it steals my breath and squeezes my neck and pummels my chest all at once.
So, yeah, if I’m going to have a panic attack, if I’m going to collapse to the floor and curl up in a fetal position and have to breathe into a paper bag, I’d rather not do it in front of my coworkers.
Ross eyes me with that expressionless, cold stare. I think he wanted more than a “Yes, sir” from me. He wanted more groveling, more remorse, for being ninety seconds late to the meeting.
Before his recent promotion to executive assistant director, Dwight Ross was in Intelligence, where, as far as anyone could tell, he had his head so far up the director’s ass that when the director belched, you could smell Dwight’s cologne. He likes the people who work under him to follow that model, which is one of the reasons we don’t get along so well.
We are here about Citizen David, the domestic terrorist who has given the Bureau fits and become a darling of social media in the process.
Carlton, who has a buzz cut and thick glasses, begins. Nothing new from the National Security Branch. No evidence that David is connected to any active terrorist cell, no chatter or indications of coordination.
Sloan, from the Criminal Investigative Division, doesn’t help much either—David isn’t leaving any traces behind when he blows up buildings. David seems to know how to avoid the CCTV cameras. He uses local materials for his rudimentary bombs. And it seems that Citizen David is working alone.
Nothing from Science and Technology either, says Cobbs, because David uses an anonymous server to post his messages on Facebook. The Bureau has tried to trace his messages and thus far has pegged him in Ukraine, in Mexico City, in New Zealand, and in Uruguay.
Everyone looks at me. I raise my shoulders. “The sample size of his bombings is too small for any discernible pattern,” I say. “He started in the Northeast, with the bank bombing in Connecticut, then he went down to Florida with the chain restaurant, then he headed west to Alabama and blew up the city hall. So that tells us, obviously—”
I take a breath. Ross didn’t interrupt any of the men even once.
“Given the length of time between the bombings,” I say, “my guess is he’s driving. He drove from Connecticut to Florida, which is about twenty hours if you take the fastest route, but he wouldn’t go the fastest way. He’d want to avoid the toll cameras and the ALPRs—automatic license-plate readers—and the speed traps. He’d go by back roads. So I’d say it took him a good four, five days to get to Florida. And then he spent a day or two planning the bombing, buying the supplies, and plotting out exactly how to do it. That’s a good week, right there, which is exactly the space of time between the Connecticut and Florida bombings. But the city-hall bombing in Alabama was four days later. He traveled about four hundred miles, which you can do in two days even if you’re being careful. And then two days to plan.”
Ross opens his hands. “And now it’s eleven days since the last attack. He could have driven anywhere in the country.”
Sloan, from the Criminal Investigative Division, winces at Ross’s interruption. Ross really should just let me talk.
Ross glances at the map of the United States on the wall. “You think, what, California? Las Vegas? A target-rich environment that would take several days by car heading west. The Grand Canyon, maybe?”
Cobbs nods at that, as does Mayfield.
“I was thinking Manhattan,” I say.
The room goes quiet as everyone calculates.
“Doubling back,” says Carlton.
“Throwing us off,” I say. “Knowing that we’re trying to discern a pattern. And a target in New York City is a tougher nut to crack than some small town in Alabama. He’d need more time to prepare.”
“Interesting,” says Sloan.
Yes, interesting. Everyone’s wondering whether interesting means “accurate.”
And they’re probably also wondering how long it will be before this interesting conversation finds its way into an article by Shaindy Eckstein