Andrea sighed. “The Order suspects the existence of a secret society called the Lighthouse Keepers. They’re well organized and really well hidden.”
“A secret society?” Derek frowned. “What, like Masons?”
Andrea huffed. “Yes, just like Masons, but instead of getting together, putting on silly hats, and getting drunk and sponsoring charity events, they get together and think up ways of killing people and destroying government buildings. They hate magic, they hate magic users, they hate magic creatures, and they would love to exterminate the lot of us with extreme prejudice.”
Well, that pretty much covered everyone in this room.
“Why?” Derek asked.
“Because they hold technological civilization to be the perfect state of humanity. They think magic is dragging us into barbarism and they must preserve the light of progress and technology. Without it, we would all descend into darkness.” Andrea shook her head. “Three years ago Hunter Becker blew up a medmage hospital in Boston. Dozens dead, hundreds injured. They tracked him down and he walked out straight into a SWAT unit, clenching a gun in each hand.”
Suicide by cop. Always a good sign.
Andrea held up the Polaroid, pointing to the caption. “This was written on the wall of his safe house. That is what in our business is called a ‘clue.’ ”
She bared her teeth at me. “Kate, these people are fanatics. That stunt in Boston took a lot of teamwork. The hospital was developing an experimental magical treatment for the blue flu. They had several virulent variations of it in their labs, guarded better than Fort Knox.”
She counted off on her fingers. “Someone built several bombs with an elaborate fail-safe. Someone bypassed three levels of security. Someone distributed the bombs on separate floors in restricted areas with limited access. Finally, someone had given Becker access to the building across the street, which was the local police station. It was estimated that at least six people were directly involved in the bombing, some of whom had to be hospital personnel. Nobody except Becker was ever discovered, and the only reason they found Becker was that he had been injured by debris and left a blood trail. None of the people were planted, Kate. They actually worked there. Since then, the Order has found two other instances of terrorism, all involving teams of covert operatives. That’s how these people operate: they recruit young and activate their members as the need arises.”
Sleeper cells of domestic terrorists. This investigation was getting better and better. “How do you know all this?”
Andrea bit her lip. “Becker was a knight of the Order.”
If the Keepers infiltrated the Order, it would be impossible to find them. With their anti-magic attitude, they would fit right in. Someone like Ted would welcome them with open arms. Hell, Ted could be one of them. I would have to be very careful now, because I very much wanted Ted to be involved. So much so that if I wasn’t careful, I’d twist reality to implicate Ted, whether he was guilty or not.
“They infiltrated the Order and the PAD,” Derek said. “De Harven was a cop before he was a guard.”
“It could literally be anyone. It could be Rene.” Andrea waved her arms. “It could be Henderson. Anyone.”
“Not anyone,” I said. “I’m not one, you’re not one, neither is Derek. I’m reasonably sure we can exclude Curran and the kid as well.”
Ascanio grinned.
Andrea stared at me. “You’re not taking me seriously!”
“That’s probably because you’re not excited enough,” Derek said. “You should clench your fists like they do in the movies, shake them, and yell, ‘This is bigger than any of us! It goes all the way to the top!’ ”
Andrea pointed her finger at him. “You shut up. I don’t have to take shit from you. From her, maybe. But not from you.”
“I trust your professional judgment,” I said. “If you say there is a secret society, then there is one. I’m simply trying to define the boundaries of our paranoia. Did all the other incidents involve more than one person?”
“Yes.”
I thought out loud. “If de Harven was a member of the Lighthouse Keepers, then he’d been activated to obtain Adam Kamen’s device, which means we can expect there to be an entire cell.”
“Probably.”
“The optimal size of a terrorist cell ranges between seven and eight members,” Derek said. “Groups below five members lack sufficient resources, manpower, and flexibility, while a group above ten begins to fracture due to specialization. Larger groups require managerial oversight to remain cohesive. That’s difficult to do while the cell is in sleeper status.”
I closed my mouth with an audible click.
Derek shrugged apologetically. “I spent a lot of time with Jim.”
“So we can expect between five and ten people?” I asked.
“Probably closer to five,” Derek said. “Especially since de Harven is dead. However, that’s assuming that we’re dealing with a single cell. They may have more than one cell in a city the size of Atlanta, and they also may mobilize neighboring cells if their goal is vital enough.”
Nobody would awaken a sleeper cell for something minor, not when its members have been dormant for years. “How many people can we expect if they threw caution to the wind and moved all available cells in?”
Derek frowned, concentrating. “I’d guess between fifty and three hundred. The more people, the less cohesive the group. If I were them, I’d rely on hired muscle. Not every job has to involve the entire cell. Some targets can be eliminated by a contract killer, for example. It minimizes the risk and the exposure—if the job goes sour, the killer can only betray one member of the group.”
Andrea rocked back and forth. “What the hell was Kamen building in that workshop?”
“I don’t know. But I know someone who does. He’s tied up in our loup cage.”
I strode to the loup cage, Andrea, Derek, and Ascanio in tow. I took the key off the hook in the wall and unlocked the door.
The loup cage stood empty. Perfectly intact rope lay in coils on its floor. It was still tied.
Derek looked slightly ill. I’d seen this precise look on Jim’s face when a teleporting thief stole the Pack maps a few months ago. “How the hell . . .”
“Magic,” Ascanio said.
“The tech is up.” I tried the cage door. Locked. “Neat trick.”
“Next time we’ll chain him to the wall,” Andrea said.
“There won’t be a next time.” He wouldn’t let himself get caught again. At least, not this easily.
Derek walked off. “The back door is unlocked,” he called out.
Well, at least we knew he didn’t evaporate into thin air.
We’d failed to find Kamen, we’d failed to recover the device, and the only person who could shed light on what was happening had disappeared from a locked cage while in our custody. It was good that I owned the damn place, or I might have had to fire myself.
“His stick is still here,” Ascanio said, holding up the volhv’s staff.
“What are you doing?” Andrea asked.
“A volhv without his staff is like a cop without a gun. He’ll come back for it. The office is a fortress, so he won’t be able to get in during tech. He’ll return during magic, when he’s at his strongest. I’ve warded this freezer so hard, it would take MSDU to get through it. When he returns, we nab him.” And this time he would stay put.
THE TRAFFIC HOME WAS MURDER. IT WAS SEVEN fifty-five by the time I pulled into the parking lot and sprinted across the yard. I conquered the hallways, and I and my files headed downstairs, two steps at a time.
I was almost to the landing when Jezebel, the second of my boudas, barred my way. Her eyes blazed bright red. She looked ready to spit fire.
“I know, I’m late.” I put some speed into it, hoping my knee held up.
Jezebel chased me, keeping up with ridiculous ease. “I’m going to rip their heads off and skull-fuck
