Blind Lake

She shrugged. “Not very. I guess I can generate a new key… but then Tess won’t be able to get in without me.”

“Generate a new key and get Tessa’s card updated even if you have to go to her school to do it. And don’t get careless. Keep the door locked when you’re alone and don’t answer the door without checking. Make sure you have your pocket server handy. In an emergency, call me or Elaine or even the Security guy, what’s-his-name, Shulgin. Don’t try to handle it yourself.”

“You sound like you’ve been through this before.”

He left without answering.

Chris staked out an isolated booth at Sawyer’s away from the window. The restaurant wasn’t crowded. The short-order cook and a couple of waitresses were showing up, Chris had surmised, largely out of habit. Menu selections were down to sandwiches: ham, cheese, or ham-and-cheese.

Elaine arrived simultaneously with Sebastian Vogel and Sue Sampel. All three of them looked at Chris apprehensively as they sat down. As soon as the waitress had taken their orders Chris put the charred, plastic-covered magazine page on the tabletop.

“Wow,” Sue said. “You actually stole this?”

“We don’t use that word,” Elaine told her. “Chris has an u

“Look at it,” Chris said. “Take your time. Draw conclusions.”

Only about a quarter of the printed page was legible. The rest of it was charred beyond interpretation, and even the legible extreme right quadrant was discolored and brown.

Still decipherable was a fraction of a headline:

And, under it, the right-hand fragments of a column of type:

Elaine said, “What’s on the other side?”

“A car ad. And a date.”

She flipped the page over. “Jesus, this is nearly two months old.”

“Yeah.”

“The pilot was carrying this with him?”

“Yeah.”

“And he’s still unconscious?”

“I called the clinic this morning. No change.”

“Who else knows about this?”

“Marguerite. You guys.”

“Okay… so let’s keep it at that for now, people.”

The waitress brought coffee. Chris covered the page with a dessert menu.

Elaine said, “You’ve had a while to think about this. What do you make of it?”

“Obviously, there’s some kind of ongoing crisis at Crossbank. Not much clue as to what it might be. Something big enough to involve the infantry and maybe close down highways — what did it say? — east of the Mississippi. We have the word ‘plague’ in quotes and what looks like a denial from the Centers for Disease Control—”

“Which could mean anything,” Elaine said. “Either way.”

“We have ‘deaths reported,’ or possibly ‘no deaths reported.’ We have some cryptic stuff about coral, starfish, a pilgrim. A statement apparently attributed to Ed Baum, the president’s science advisor. The event was big enough to warrant major news coverage and policy statements from federal agencies, but not big enough to drive advertisers out of the magazine.”

“That ad could have been bought and paid for six months earlier. Proves nothing.”

“Sebastian?” Chris said. “Sue? Any thoughts?”

They both looked solemn. Sebastian said, “I’m intrigued by the use of the word ‘spiritual.’”

Elaine rolled her eyes. “You would be.”

“Go on,” Chris prompted.

Sebastian frowned, his pursed mouth almost disappearing under his enormous beard. The siege had left him looking more gnome-like than ever, Chris thought. He had somehow contrived to gain weight. His cheeks were berry-red. “Spiritual redemption. What kind of disaster generates even the illusion of redemption? Or attracts a pilgrim?”

“Bullshit,” Elaine said. “You can attract pilgrims by a

“Oh, I don’t think what we have here is the Second Coming. Though perhaps some people have mistaken it for that. It does imply something strange, though, don’t you think? Something ambiguous.”

“Strange and ambiguous. Wow, great insight.”

Chris put the magazine page back in his jacket pocket. He let them talk it through for a few minutes. Elaine was obviously frustrated to have only half an explanation in front of her. Sebastian seemed more intrigued than frightened, and Sue clung to his left arm in chastened silence.

“So maybe the critics are right,” Elaine said. “Something happened to the O/BECs at Crossbank. So we need to think about shutting down the Eye.”

“Maybe,” Chris said. He had run through this scenario with Marguerite last night. “But if the folks on the outside wanted us shut down they could have cut the power months ago. Maybe they did that at Crossbank, and it only made things worse.”

“Maybe, maybe, maybe, fucking maybe. What we need is more information.” She directed a meaningful look at Sue.

Sue picked at her sandwich as if she hadn’t heard.

“Good girl,” Sebastian told her. “Never volunteer.”

Sue Sampel — with what Chris thought was a remarkable display of dignity — swallowed the last bite of ham and cheese and took a sip of coffee. Then she cleared her throat. “You want to know what Ray found when he raided the executive servers. I’m sorry, but I haven’t been able to find out. Ray’s paranoia has ramped up lately. All the support staff have to carry clocked keys now. We can’t come in early or stay late without a security waiver. Most of the offices have video surveillance, and it’s not just casual.”

“So what do you know?” Elaine asked.

“Only what I happen to see now and then. Dimi Shulgin showed up with a package of printouts, probably hard copies of whatever mail from Crossbank happened to be sitting in the caches before the shutdown. Ray’s been extremely nervous since he saw that. As for the contents, I haven’t been able to get anywhere near them. And if Ray ever really meant to make all this stuff public, apparently he’s changed his mind.”

Ray’s not just nervous, Chris thought. He’s scared. His veneer of reasonability is flaking away like paint on a barn door.

“So we’re fucked,” Elaine said.

“Not necessarily. I might be able to get something for you. But I’ll need help.”

Sue could do a pretty convincing impersonation of an airhead, but the fact was, Chris thought, she wasn’t stupid. Stupid people didn’t land jobs at Blind Lake, even as support staff. If the printouts were still in Ray’s office, Sue said, she could, just maybe and with a little luck, find them and scan them into her personal server. She could let herself into Ray’s office on a pretext and use her passkey to get into his desk, but she needed at least half an hour uninterrupted.

“What about the surveillance?”

“That’s where we benefit from Ray’s paranoia. Cameras are optional in executive suites. Ray’s had his turned off since last summer. I guess he didn’t want anyone to see him eating his DingDongs.”

“DingDongs?”

Sue waved off the question. “Security will see me go in and out of his office, but if I keep away from the co

“You’re absolutely sure he keeps hard copies in his office?”

“Not absolutely, no, but I’d bet on it. The question is how to get Ray and his buddies out of the way while I do this.”

“I’m guessing you have a plan,” Elaine said.

Sue looked pleased. “Weekdays are impossible. I can get in there on weekends during daylight hours without arousing suspicion, but Ray often drops in on weekends too, and Shulgin has been hanging around lately. So I looked at Ray’s calendar. This Saturday he’s doing the community center lecture-hall thing. Ari Weingart organized one of his big events, he’s got two or three speakers besides Ray. Knowing Ray, he’ll want Shulgin in the audience with him along with anybody else who might make a casual appearance — Ari, say, or any of the department heads apart from Marguerite. He’s taking this thing seriously. If I had to guess, I’d say he wants to drum up support for shutting down the Eye.”