Kat finally cleared her throat and straightened. “I have the video from ADX Florence keyed up. I’ll bring it up on the left monitor.”
Painter swung around. Three large 8K monitors covered the walls behind and to either side of his mahogany desk. He sometimes scrolled different landscapes to create the illusion of windows in his confined office, but they only reminded him of how trapped he was underground.
“Here we go,” Kat said.
The monitor’s screen filled with a picture of a series of low-brick buildings, cement towers, all surrounded by tall fences encased by curls of razor wire. It was all backdropped by a wall of mountains.
“This is ADX Florence,” Kat said.
Seichan uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. “Which is what?”
Gray’s brows pinched with confusion. “The Alcatraz of the Rockies.”
Painter nodded. “It’s a supermax federal penitentiary in Colorado. It houses prisoners deemed to be the most dangerous, especially to national security. One cell block has been dubbed Bomber’s Row, due to the various domestic terrorists who have been housed there over the years. Timothy McVeigh, Terry Nichols, Ramzi Yousef, Ted Kaczynski.”
“I don’t understand,” Monk said. “What does a supermax facility in Colorado have to do with the bombing here?”
“Good question,” Painter said. “It’s why it took us so long to make a connection.”
Kat tapped on the terminal keyboard. “This is footage from inside, from a visitor’s center.”
A grainy video from a closed-circuit security system started rolling on the screen. The image was split, showing both sides of a glass partition that separated prisoners from visitors. The room was deserted, except for a single posted guard and two figures seated at one booth. The pair leaned in close, phones at their ears.
“Is there any audio?” Monk asked as the video ran silently.
“Restricted,” Kat answered. “This was a privileged conversation between a lawyer and his client.”
“Who’s the prisoner—” Gray’s words choked off as the man leaned out far enough to reveal his face. “That bastard.”
“Senator Kent Cargill,” Kat confirmed. “Or ratherformersenator. He’s better known as Inmate 4593.”
Painter waited for the shock and anger to wane. The man had betrayed his country. His actions had led to hundreds of deaths. Sigma had exposed him a couple of years ago, but prior to that, the senator had also sat in one of these office chairs after his daughter had been kidnapped.
“Kat and her team have been canvassing, reviewing, and interviewing anyone who had knowledge of Sigma Command’s location.”
“And who might hold a grudge against us,” Gray added.
Kat nodded. “It took us this long to come across this video. It was taped a month prior to the bombing.”
Monk sighed. “But what’s the significance of this one meeting between Cargill and his lawyer?”
“His lawyer’s colleague,” Kat corrected. “A junior partner in the firm,according to a background check prior to the visit. It was Jason who noted how this particular visitor was very coy with the cameras, as if they had foreknowledge of their locations in the room.”
Jason Carter was a twenty-six-year-old former hacker who had been recruited by Sigma a few years back. His black-hat skills, raw ingenuity, and sharp eye had earned him a position at Kat’s right side.
“But the lawyer made one slip-up,” Kat said.
She sped the video forward. The visitor leaned down to remove something from a satchel. Kat froze the footage. The camera had captured a three-quarter profile.
“Kat was able to nab a few other photos during the intake process,” Painter added.
She nodded and brought up a row of pictures, some blurry, others full body, of the visitor.
“It’s a woman,” Monk said.
“Not just any woman,” Kat said. “And certainly not the junior associate of Cargill’s law firm. Though, the make-up and prosthetics made her look very much like that junior partner.”
Gray swore harshly.
