The burning wire

"Yes, I'll do it."

Turning back to the evidence charts, Rhyme sighed. Symbiotic terrorist cells, cumulonimbus communications and an invisible suspect with an invisible weapon.

And as for the other case, the attempt to trap the Watchmaker in Mexico City? Nothing but the mysterious circuit board, its owner's manual and two meaningless numbers:

Five hundred seventy and three hundred seventy-nine…

Which put him in mind of other digits. Those on the clock nearby, the clock counting down to the next deadline.

SECOND DEMAND NOTE

– Delivered to Bernard Wahl, Algonquin security chief. -Assaulted by Galt. -No physical contact; no trace. -No indication of whereabouts or site of next attack. -Paper and ink associated with those found in Galt's apartment. -Additional traces of alternative jet fuel embedded in paper. -Attack on military base?

– Identified as Raymond Galt, 40, single, living in Manhattan, 227 Suffolk St. -Terrorist co

Chapter 47

THE TV WAS on in Rhyme's lab.

As a prelude to Andi Jessen's press conference, which would start in a few minutes, a story about Algonquin Consolidated and Jessen herself was airing. Rhyme was curious about the woman and paid attention to the anchorman as he traced Jessen's career in the business. How her father had been president and CEO of the company before her. There was no nepotism involved, though; the woman had degrees in engineering and business and had worked her way up, actually starting as a lineman in upstate New York.

A life-long employee of Algonquin, she was quoted as saying how devoted she was to her career and to her goal of building the company into the number-one player in both the generation of electricity and the brokering of it. Rhyme had not known that because of deregulation a few years ago power companies had increasingly taken to brokerage: buying electricity and natural gas from other companies and selling it. Some had even sold off their interest in the generation and transmission of power and were, in effect, commodity dealers, with no assets other than offices, computers and telephones.

And very large banks behind them.

This was, the reporter explained, the thrust of Enron's business.

Andi Jessen, though, had never slipped over to the dark side-extravagance, arrogance, greed. The compact, intense woman ran Algonquin with an old-fashioned austerity and shu

Andi was one of the country's most outspoken advocates for the megagrid-one unified power grid that co

Her nickname-though apparently one never used to her face or in her presence-was "the All-Powerful." Apparently this was a reference to both her take-no-prisoners management style, and to her ambitions for Algonquin.

Her controversial reservations about green power were on blunt display in one interview.

"First of all, I wanted to say that we at Algonquin Consolidated are committed to renewable energy sources. But at the same time I think we all need to be realistic. The earth was here billions of years before we lost our gills and tails and started burning coal and driving internal combustion cars and it'll be here, doing just fine, long, long after we're history.

"When people say they want to save the earth, what they really mean is that they want to save their lifestyle. We have to admit we want energy and a lot of it. And that we need it-for civilization to progress, to be fed and educated, to use fancy equipment to keep an eye on the dictators of the world, to help Third World countries join the First World. Oil and coal and natural gas and nuclear power are the best ways to create that power."

The piece ended and pundits leapt in to criticize or say hurrah. It was more politically correct, and produced better ratings, to eviscerate her, however.

Finally the camera went live to City Hall, four people on the dais: Jessen, the mayor, the police chief and Gary Noble, from Homeland Security.

The mayor made a brief a

Surprising Rhyme, and everyone else in the room, the group had made the decision to go public about the second demand letter. He supposed that the reasoning was if they were unsuccessful in stopping Galt and somebody else died in another attack, the public relations, and perhaps legal, consequences to Algonquin would have been disastrous.

The reporters leapt on this instantly and pelted her with questions. Jessen coolly silenced them and explained that it was impossible to meet the extortionist's requirements. A reduction in the amount of power he wanted would result in hundreds of millions of dollars in damages. And very likely many more deaths.

She added that it would be a national security risk because the demands would hamper military and other governmental operations. "Algonquin is a major player in our nation's defense and we will not do anything to jeopardize that."

Slick, thought Rhyme. She's turning the whole thing around.

Finally, she ended with a personal statement to Galt to turn himself in. He'd be treated fairly. "Don't let your family or anyone else suffer because of the tragedy that's happened to you. We'll do whatever we can to ease your suffering. But please, do the right thing, and turn yourself in."

She took no questions and was off the dais seconds after she finished speaking, her high heels clattering loudly.

Rhyme noticed that while her sympathy was heartfelt she never once admitted that the company had done anything wrong or that high-voltage lines might in fact have led to Galt's or anyone else's cancer.

Then the police chief took over and tried his best to offer concrete reassurance. Police and federal agents were out in force looking for Galt, and National Guard troops were ready to assist if there were more attacks or the grid was compromised.

He ended with a plea to citizens to report anything unusual.

Now that's helpful, Rhyme thought. If there's one thing that's the order of the day in New York City, it's the unusual.

And he turned back to the paltry evidence.