They all moved through the gate into the heavily overgrown gardens.

“Same plan,” North said. “Jake and Zeke, go in the back door. The rest of us will go in through the front door. Sierra, stay at the rear. If things get noisy, get out.”

“Understood,” Sierra said.

The front door was unlocked. North led the way into the hall. There was no indication that anyone was in the house.

“Back door was locked,” Jake announced through the communicator, “but we’re in. No sign of anyone around.”

“Loring must have been in a hell of a hurry,” Brianna said. “Didn’t even bother to lock his front door. Think he was tipped off?”

“I doubt it,” North said. “Victor and I kept this operation very tight. I think it’s more likely Loring got scared and ran.”

The inside of the mansion looked as if it had been locked in a time warp since the early 1960s.

“Wow,” Sierra said. “The original version of mid-century modern. My grandmother says she never did understand why the style came back into fashion. She said the only reason people bought those plastic chairs and shag rugs the first time around was because they were cheap.”

Jake and Zeke appeared from a hallway. “Place feels empty. But there’s some heat.”

“Take the upstairs,” North said. “We’ll go down.”

“Right.”

Jake and Zeke went up the stairs and disappeared onto the upper floor. They reappeared almost immediately.

“Nothing but a lot of dust,” Jake reported. “No footprints. He wasn’t spending time there.”

North found the door to the basement in the big kitchen. When he opened it the unmistakable odor of death wafted up from the darkness. He flipped on the light switch.

Loring’s lifeless body was sprawled at the foot of the steps. A large pool of dried blood stained the concrete floor.

“Looks like one or more of the Puppets got tired of waiting to become a super psychic,” Sierra said quietly.

North led the way down the stairs. The rest of the team followed. Sierra paused in the doorway.

“Just a minute,” she said.

North and the others looked at her. Cautiously she put her ungloved hand on the knob of the basement door.

“Shit,” she said.

She yanked her fingers off the knob and hastily pulled on the glove.

“What?” North asked.

She met his eyes. “Rage. A lot of it. And frustration.”

“Loring would have been pissed as hell when he opened that door and came down here,” North said. “His entire project was in ruins. His grand plan to control the technology Crocker Rancourt stole all those decades ago had fallen apart.”

Jake slipped past Sierra and went down the basement steps.

“Whoever killed Loring would have been in a similar mood,” he pointed out. “A Puppet who has figured out that he was conned would lay down a lot of rage, too.”

“You’re right,” Sierra said. She started slowly down the steps.

North watched her closely. “Same vibe you picked up on the doorknob at the scene of the Garraway murder?”