“Dams and chemical plants are computer-controlled too,” Cam added.
Kiley jumped to her feet and thought about actions they should take regarding this discovery. “Cam, keep on top of this with the analysts monitoring the dark web and let me know of anything that might corroborate an upcoming cyber attack.”
Cam gave a sharp nod.
“I’ll get Eisenhower to check with Counterterrorism to see if they’ve heard any chatter on a computer-driven plot,” she said, sitting back down. “And I’ll check for a tracker on Firuzeh’s phone.”
Kiley located a hidden app that not only was tracking Firuzeh’s GPS but also texts and phone calls. She thought about a faceless monster following Firuzeh and felt like she might throw up. “Tracker was installed on Friday at 1:15 p.m.”
Evan met her gaze. “So where was Firuzeh then, and who was she with at that time?”
Kiley navigated to the date on Firuzeh’s calendar, and her stomach dropped. “She met with Waleed for lunch that day. Withouta password, if she left her phone unattended, he could’ve installed the tracker.”
“Sounds like we really need to talk to the guy.” Evan’s tone spoke of a burning desire to face Waleed. “And before you say I can’t go with you when you talk to him, I know this guy better than anyone here, and Iwillbe in on the interview.”
Kiley had never seen him this adamant, yet she couldn’t let his desires play into her decisions. They would have to travel back to D.C. together for the interview, and she didn’t want to spend hours in a plane with him.
“Evan has a point,” Sean said. “He can bring you up to speed on the trip, and you’ll be better prepared for the interview.”
“You can go to the dance school too,” Mack added, “and check for lockers.”
Shedidwant to visit the studio, and she also wanted to talk to Professor Flagel, though with a long-range rifle shot it was unlikely her professor killed Firuzeh. Still, he could’ve hired someone to take the shot, and Kiley could leave no stone unturned. But she certainly didn’t need Evan’s help with the interview or to check the lockers.
“I...” She fumbled for a reason to leave him behind but couldn’t come up with one. “First, I can’t rush off to D.C. with so much going on here, and second...” Her phone rang before she could continue, and she almost shouted hallelujah for the interruption. Until she saw the name on her screen. “It’s Eisenhower.”
“Never good when he calls.” Mack’s dire tone raised her angst. “Especially not in the middle of the night.”
Evan didn’t like seeing the pressure mount on Kiley’s face or the way she was holding her body so rigidly as she stepped across the room and lifted the phone to her ear. He glanced at her teammates, who were sharing a concerned look.
“Sir,” she said, her hand moving a lamp on a table by the window a few inches to the right, telling Evan her stress had reached decorating level. She suddenly stumbled and grabbed on to the credenza, her fingers turning white.
No one moved to go to her aid. Evan started to get up. Mack fired a warning look, telling Evan to stay put. He wanted to ignore Mack, but the guy knew Kiley better than Evan did these days, so he remained seated.
“Where?” Her shoulders pulled back into a firm line. Something bad had nearly taken her down, and she was struggling to climb out of it.
Evan still wanted to go to her. Instead, he slung an arm around the back of a nearby chair to keep from acting on his impulse. He wasn’t with a group of friends hanging out. They were law-enforcement professionals, and she needed to be treated as such. Even more so since she was leading the investigation.
“I’ll decide and let you know.” She gave a firm nod. “We’ll be there.”
She lowered her phone to the credenza and planted both hands on the edge, her head bowed.
Was she crying or praying? Evan didn’t know, but he desperately wanted to figure it out. The first required help. The second distance.
She took a long breath. Let it out and took in another, then released it too. She removed her hands from the credenza and slowly pivoted. Her face was pale, her eyes dark with anguish.
“There was a bombing in Pittsburgh,” she said, her voice sounding disembodied, as if she’d distanced herself from the situation to maintain her sanity. “A train. Not passenger. Freight. Suspected target was a chlorine gas tanker. Thankfully the device exploded early and didn’t rupture the tanker. At least three people were killed, and countless others injured. Two male suspects described as Arabian or Middle Eastern descent were seen in the area before the bomb detonated.”
Evan shot to his feet. “Are you thinking it’s our guys?”
She responded with a wooden nod. “If so, this bombing was a warm-up to the main event. Even if the tankerhadruptured, it wouldn’t have subjected anywhere near a million people to danger.”
“The chlorine gas would’ve killed or harmed a large number, though,” Mack said.
“True. Eisenhower mentioned that a single railcar holds ninety tons of the chemical, so it’s not hard to imagine the damage an exploded tanker would’ve caused.”
Cam closed his laptop and planted his feet on the floor. “We should’ve considered chemical transport and not just plants producing them.”
Evan wasn’t as certain. “Shipping would have to involve a large network of coordinated events to target a million people.”
