A condom. And a business card. A Trojan. And a Red Roan. Which is a kind of horse. Michael had been trying to tell his sister that the device she was given to analyze at TEDAC was a Trojan horse. But Fenton had misunderstood from the start. She had made two false assumptions: That the bomb containing Michael’s message had been intended to explode. And that the transponder inside it was the trigger.
I was betting that neither thing was true. The bomb was just a vehicle. Its job was to deliver the transponder. To a place where only a bomb could go. And the transponder’s job was not to trigger the bomb it was in. It was to trigger something else. Which hadn’t happened. Because Fenton had fixated on Michael’s fingerprint. She hadn’t realized it was to ensure that the bomb reached her desk. Or that it doubled as a way to sign the warning. She hated puzzles after all. She was too pedantic. She’d taken it at face value. As damning evidence. So she destroyed it.
Fenton destroyed the first transponder. But another one was coming. In the smoke bomb. It was minutes away. Heading for the building I was in. Where two hundred people worked. Which was full of irreplaceable machines and priceless evidence. No wonder Dendoncker had been so desperate to push me into transporting the device for him. He had wanted it at TEDAC from the start.
Lane was scowling. “You broke off this meeting to talk about condoms? What’s wrong with you?”
Michael’s original bomb arrived at TEDAC weeks ago, initially with its transponder intact. But the place didn’t blow up. So the thing it was supposed to trigger wasn’t here at that time. It must have come in later.
I said, “The last three weeks. Have any new devices been brought in?”
Lane checked his watch again. “Of course.”
“Anything particularly large?”
“I can’t share that kind of information. It’s too sensitive.”
“Come on, Lane. This is important.”
“Why?”
“It’s a long story. A guy with a liking for cryptic messages sent a warning that the transponder in the device that’s about to arrive is supposed to trigger something else. Not be triggered itself.”
Lane smiled and shook his head. “No. That theory doesn’t hold water. For it to be right, the device already here would need to have the corresponding transponder. And no such devices have been brought in. Fact.”
“Are you sure? You said some evidence waits awhile before you get to it.”
“We prioritize. Some evidence does have to wait for full analysis. That’s true. But we don’t just throw it in a closet when it shows up. It doesn’t slip down the back of the couch. Every piece that’s waitlisted is examined on delivery. Photographs are taken. Components are listed. Transponders are highly unusual. If anything had arrived containing one, I would know.”
“These inspections. They’re done without exception?”
“Priority cases go straight to analysis planning who handle the documentation and record keeping. It’s integrated into their process. Everything else gets an initial inspection. Without exception.” Lane paused for a second. “Actually, there was one exception. A truck bomb. A city destroyer. It came in from overseas. The vehicle was too large to fit into a work bay here so the minute it arrived we sent it away again. To our old premises. At Quantico. A huge place. You could fit dozens of trucks in it.”
“What if something arrived while we were talking?”
“That’s possible, I suppose.” Lane took out his phone and had a brief conversation. “No. There was nothing new today.”
The prickling at the back of my neck was worse. “When M– Khalil’s bomb arrives, you should stop it. Don’t let it in.”
“Impossible.”
“Why? You didn’t let the big truck bomb in.”
“No. But it came by road. It already had an escort. Khalil’s is being flown in. It doesn’t have an escort. It can’t go on the public roads without one. What if there was an accident? And it’s full of chemical weapons? And people die? Because we sent it away, against procedure, and with no good reason. Based entirely on your whim.”
“It’s –”
There was a knock on the door and another agent stepped into the room. A much younger guy. He looked freshly pressed and eager. “It’s here, sir. The device from Texas.”
“Excellent.” Lane stood and made for the door. “You stay here. Keep Mr. Reacher company. I’ll be back as soon as the device has been processed.”
I thought about the truck bomb. Lane had called it a city destroyer. That didn’t sound good. Not good at all. I was happy it was no longer here. And I figured it must be the one Michael’s bomb was supposed to trigger. It had to be. It was the only one that hadn’t been inspected, and all the others had been free of transponders. Then I realized something else. The truck being sent away could explain Dendoncker’s sudden change of heart. Why he told me to keep the smoke bomb at the hotel. If he had someone watching TEDAC, he would know there was no point sending a second transponder.
I turned to the new agent. “The city destroyer. The one that wouldn’t fit in the workshop. When did it get refused? I need to know exactly. To the minute.”
“Let me find out for you, sir.” The agent called someone. There was a lot of nodding and gesticulating and changing of facial expressions before he hung up. “The destroyer’s still here, sir. It actually never left. One of its escort vehicles broke down and they still haven’t sent a replacement.”
“Where is it, exactly?”
“Parked between this building and The Building.”
“When did it arrive?”
“Around midnight, last night. I believe.”
“OK. Call Agent Lane. Tell him not to let the new device onto the site. Not under any circumstances.”
“If you’re worried about the destroyer being here, sir, then please don’t. It’s been made safe. Emergency procedure. It had three detonation systems, and they’ve all been disconnected.”
“Was one a transponder?”
“No, sir. It had cellular. Magnetic. And photosensitive.”
“Call Lane. Right now. No time to explain.”
The agent dialed a number, held the phone to his ear, then shook his head. “Line’s busy.”
“Call the driver.”
“OK. What’s his number?”
“No idea.”
“His name?”
I shrugged.
“No problem.” The agent started tapping and swiping at his phone’s screen. “I’ll go on the intranet. See if I can find a roster.”
“No time. What kind of truck is the destroyer?”
“It’s ex-military. An M35 deuce and a half, I think.”
“Which is farther? The truck, or the gate?”
“The gate.”
“Then you take the gate. Go now. Run. Keep trying Lane’s number. One way or the other, stop him.”