'We should probably get out of here, let the cleanup crew draw out the smoke,' Rodgers said.
Hood nodded. The cleanup contingent of the ERT would be moving in with large potassium permanganate air purifiers. These big, fifty-pound units would clear eight hundred cubic feet of air per minute.
The three men headed toward the stairwell. Op-Center looked ghostly, with only the milky glow of the dying overhead lights and monitors.
'Matt, I don't suppose any of the hardware outside the Tank would have survived,' Hood said.
Stoll shook his head. 'Most of the files are backed up there, so at least the data is secure. But it's going to cost a bundle to replace the nuts and bolts. The computers, the phones, the Palm Pilots the CD and DVD data disks people were using. Even the coffee makers and minifridges. Hell, we must have at least a thousand lightbulbs that are useless now.'
'You've still got your team,' Rodgers said. 'And that includes me, Paul. I did not get around to changing the date on my resignation.'
Hood was not a sentimental man, but that one choked him up. He thanked the general, though the sound came out more gulp than word.
'Getting back to who had the ability to pull this off,' Stoll said, 'I have to ask if either of you has any idea who might have done this.'
Neither man spoke.
'I mean, it may not be the most tactful question to ask, but could it have been the guys we are investigating?'
'It could be any number of individuals or groups,' Hood said. 'Maybe the New Jacobins in Toulouse looking for a little revenge.'
'Forgive me again, but that doesn't fit,' Stoll went on. As ever, his pursuit of knowledge was chronically unencumbered by tact. 'Like I said back there, this could have been designed to produce far more fatalities than it did. The New Jacobins and some of the other people we've crossed swords with would have been happy to reduce us all to binary digits.'
'Matt's right,' Rodgers said. 'I know what it's like to lose a man, Paul, but this was designed as a flash-bang not as a kill shot. Someone wanted to blind us.'
'Who?' Hood asked diplomatically.
The general did not answer. The question became rhetorical rather than leading. The men reached the narrow stairwell. They started up single file. Stoll was in the lead with Rodgers behind him.
'What we should do is plan to meet in the Tank as soon as possible,'
Hood went on. 'Put all the possibilities on the table and cross-reference them with known modi operandi.'
'I don't think we'll be able to go back down there today,' Rodgers said. 'Which is just as well, because I want to do some nosing around.'
'Need any help?' Hood asked.
'No,' Rodgers said firmly.
Hood left it at that. What was implied was far more important than what was said. Rodgers wanted to make sure that Op-Center's investigation of Admiral Link had not hit a nerve.
The men reached the parking lot on the south side of the building.
There was a small picnic area with tables. Op Center employees stood and sat around them, alone and in very small groups. A few were smoking, even fewer were talking. It was strange to see no one using a cell phone or laptop. The blast had destroyed them all. There were misty clouds inside the cars parked nearest to the building. Their electronic components had also been burned out.
Most eyes turned to Hood when he emerged. The team knew, intuitively, that he would be the last man out.
Hood moved among the group to where Bob Herbert was sitting. He wanted to make sure his colleague was okay. Herbert said he was. He said it without emotion, which bordered on disinterest to Hood. But at least there was no anger. That was progress. Hood then told his team about Mac McCallie. There were a few moans of disbelief and several quiet oaths. Mac could be a severe pain in the butt who damn near counted every staple. But he was a professional who put in long hours. If employees needed something to do their job, he made sure they got
