"Like Blackwater," I said.
"Like Blackwater," Grant said.
"Blackwater all over again," Wyatt said.
We looked at each other.
"All right," I said. "It's a cover. Gives Craine a federal angle to come after us."
"That's right."
"But that doesn't tell uswhy."
"No," Grant said. "It doesn't."
Grant looked at Wyatt.
Wyatt looked at me.
"That's the question," Wyatt said.
"None of us know yet," Grant said.
"Lucas might."
"Lucas is on his way down."
He was. The footsteps came up the corridor behind us and we turned, and Lucas crossed the marble.
He stopped when he reached us.
"Tommy."
"Lucas."
"Two on the boat. Confirmed. The driver was Earl Hatcher, age thirty-one, last known address a trailer on a piece of private property outside Beckley, West Virginia. The second man was his cousin, Wade. Same trailer. Both members of a militia called the Mountain Sovereignty Coalition." He paused. "Couple hundred guys, dispersed, no central facility. They've been on the FBI watch list for six years and not on the FBI'sdo anything aboutlist for the same six."
"Surprising," I said.
"Isn't it."
"Online?"
"That's the part I came down here to tell you. The chatter is already pointing at Dominion Hall."
"Already."
"Within twenty minutes of the explosion, Tommy. The dark web boards started lighting up before the fire was out on the pier. A coordinated narrative—Dominion Hall,private militia,the Danes have been recruiting from the wrong side of the country, threat to America."
Grant let out a slow whistle. "They had it ready."
"Yes, they did," Lucas said.
I crossed my arms over my chest.
"Craine wants us off balance," I said. "That's the play."
"Why?" Grant said.
