Darius had caught her once, walking back to their cabin in the mountains near Tahoe, and she knew his intent immediately. She’d said only, “You force me and I’ll cut your balls off.” And she’d waited, looking at him, emotionless, to see what he would do.

“So you prefer your brainy little boy to a man, do you?”

“I’d prefer Satan himself to you.” Not smart, given what she knew to her gut he was, but she also realized, the moment the words were out of her mouth, she’d say them again.

He’d laughed and walked off, giving her a little finger wave over his shoulder. “Later, love,” he’d said, but after that, he’d ignored her.

She’d managed to take a full-frontal photo of him, stepping out of a field shower, the only clear shot she’d ever gotten of his face. He was always careful, and why was that? He was dark, muscular, very strong, his eyes black and cold. Middle Eastern heritage, but he’d been educated in England, given his Brit accent. She’d sent his photo in two weeks ago, hoping for word about who he really was.

Now, as she waited, Vanessa remembered how he and Matthew had been talking together, voices low, before they’d left for the refinery. When she’d come into the room, they’d shut up. In hindsight, she realized of course they’d been finalizing their plans to test the gold-coin bombs, which meant Matthew had been turned and was now a willing murderer.

Vanessa looked at her watch: nearly twelve-thirty. Time was up. She had to get back to the rally point. She couldn’t wait any longer to see if Darius emerged like Lazarus from the flames. Be dead, she prayed. Please be dead.

She bagged up her things, slipped her backpack onto her shoulders, started off down the hill at a steady jog, thinking hard.

Caine and Drummond were going to be a problem. Caine especially, since Vanessa knew the woman was a pit bull—a brainy, relentless pit bull. Now that COE had killed, the FBI would redouble their efforts. Time was running out. She had to get Matthew to tell her his plans, what he was going to do with his magic gold-coin bombs, and she had to do it now.

Matthew was waiting in the mud-caked Toyota Corolla. He’d disabled the dome light, so when she opened the door, there was nothing but the squeak of the hinges and his harsh breathing. He’d turned off the scanner, was staring straight ahead, unseeing, into the night.

He nodded to her. “Ian and his boys checked in, all of them safe. We need to send our statement to the media now—”

Her voice was wonderfully calm. “Matthew, you just did a test run for your bombs. Do you have any idea what kind of carnage you’ve created? People are dead, Matthew, by your hand, not mine.”

He didn’t say anything, didn’t look at her. “Send the media statement, Vanessa. Now.”

She kept hold of her temper. “Darius didn’t come out of the bombing. You even killed your mentor, Matthew.”

9

BISHOP TO F4

Bayway Refinery

Both Mike and Nicholas leaned in so Zachery could hear. “What did you say, sir? Reeves is dead? He was killed?”

Zachery said, “No, but he’s missing. His wife said he didn’t come home from the Dominion Bar to change before his shift. His friend’s name is Chuck Metter; we’re looking for him now. No luck yet. Jersey police are canvassing the neighborhoods, the few who could be spared from this mess.

“We’re running Reeves’s financials now, trying to see if there’s a money trail. Either he decided to bolt or he’s been kidnapped or killed.”

Nicholas said, “Ten pounds says he came back to the refinery to do whatever he was supposed to do to let in the bombers. He obviously needed some liquid courage to pull it off. He may be among the dead or injured. He may be in hospital. I’ll leave word with the EMTs, see if anyone fitting his description was taken away.” Nicholas paused. “Or COE is eliminating witnesses and took him out. They didn’t count on him shooting his mouth off in a bar.”

Mike kicked the tire of her car. “He was our only lead. I hope security has been increased on Mr. Hodges as well. Given what these people have done tonight, their sheer disregard for human life, we don’t want to take any chances with his safety.”

Zachery said, “Nor do I. With any luck, COE doesn’t even know about Mr. Hodges, but just in case, I now have three agents with him. He’ll be fine.”

“You’re thinking revenge?”

Zachery shrugged. “I don’t know, Nicholas, that or an overall cleanup. I plan to have him moved to a safe house later tonight. Now, have they found the initial blast site yet?”

Nicholas said, “They have to get the fire put out first, then it will still be too hot for a few hours. We’ll go in the moment they clear us.”

“New Jersey bomb squads are here; New York is close. They’ll find the ignition point.” Zachery touched both his agents on the shoulder. “I’ve been told what you two did tonight, how you didn’t stop. I met a firefighter named Jimbo who said you were both maniacs and saved his life. I realize you’re both frustrated, exhausted, and angry, but know this—you saved lives otherwise lost if you hadn’t been here, if you hadn’t been who you are.” He paused. “Thank you both. I’m thinking there might be commendations coming to you for this night.” He paused again. “That is, if you catch these scum.”

Nicholas looked down at his hands, covered in soot, the flesh pink and raw, blistered in places, and at Mike, who was staring back into the flames again, also covered in black ash, her blond ponytail gone brunette with small silver streaks. “We’re going to catch them, sir.”

Mike asked, “Has COE claimed responsibility yet?”

“Not yet. But I’m sure they’ll follow the path of the last few bombings—give the media maybe an hour to speculate before their signature letter is splashed all over the Internet and blaring out from newsrooms.” He paused for a moment. “What really concerns me is, unlike the other bombings, people died tonight. At least fifteen, last count, and COE has never killed before. And the bomb itself was more powerful, much more powerful, plus there was a second bomb, lying in the open, almost as if it had been dropped.”

Mike nodded. “Tonight they changed, and I keep wondering why. Why murder people when they never had before? It’s not like they weren’t getting lots of attention. People were getting alarmed, there were politicians beginning to talk about reducing oil imports from the Middle East, the refinery bombings on everyone’s mind.”

Nicholas said, “Maybe there’s something else going on, maybe they now have another, grander plan—”

Zachery nodded. “Yes, or another person is now on board. Another player, perhaps, one with no qualms about killing. Or maybe a separate group entirely, using COE’s MO?”

Nicholas said, “The last bit of chatter in the darknet warned specifically of a California hit, near San Francisco. But now this happens here at Bayway. No, I still think it’s COE. Another player now involved, someone far more violent who’s now calling the shots? That sounds possible.”

Mike shook her head, sprinkling ash down onto her shoulders. “We’re going to have to—”

Zachery interrupted her, his hand on her arm. “Stop. Listen, Agent Caine, both you and Agent Drummond go home, take a shower, get some rest. Nothing will happen until the fire is out, which could take hours. Since you two are our leads on these bombings, JTTF will want to be briefed in the morning. You know they’ll be expecting a full report, so you need to power down and get some sleep.”

Mike had worked for Zachery long enough to know he meant what he said, so she nodded slowly. But she still wasn’t ready to fold her tent.

“Yes, sir.” Mike ran her hands across her face. They came back still streaked black with soot. “I’ve got to hose myself down before I hit the sheets. Maybe get a power wash.”