“We’ll have to just make do.”

“I can guarantee you ten minutes of blackout. After that, he’ll know something is up if he’s half as smart as we think he is,” says Ailes.

I turn to Shannon. “It should just be you, me and Danielle. We need a small team. If something goes wrong, I don’t want anybody else in harm’s way.”

“I agree.” Shannon turns to explain the situation to the rest of the team.

Danielle pats me on the back, feeling for my body armor. “Just checking.”

I think about her family. “You know, you don’t have to go in there.”

She gives me a smile. “Three pairs of eyes are better than two. And besides, don’t you think it’s time the girls run the show?”

Having her with me makes me feel better. She’s smart and very observant. Knoll insisted she come along because there are no better field forensic technicians in the bureau.

Once we’re all set, Shannon gives me the thumbs-up.

“Are we a go, Dr. Ailes?” I ask.

“Blackout in three . . . two . . . one . . . Go!” he replies.

48

YOU NEVER KNOW who or what is on the other side of a door. A routine stop for me as a rookie cop ended up getting me kicked down a flight of stairs and my nose broken. Some might say that’s getting off easy. The Warlock is capable of anything.

It’s a junkyard. But we already knew that from the air. On the ground the piles of crushed vehicles and machinery take on a different meaning. I see three broken-down yellow taxi vans in a heap. Danielle taps me on the shoulder and points to a pile of wings and small airplane fuselages. In another section is a carved-open city bus.

Shannon steps over a huge steel wheel that belongs to a locomotive. Everywhere we look we see things that could have been used in trial runs for what the Warlock has done before. Or they could just be junk. A thousand other salvage yards in this country could have the same broken-down vehicles and parts. Their presence here means nothing.

We walk around a metal building with open sides. A heavy winch sits in the middle with an engine block dangling from the chains. It swings slowly in the wind. The creaking of metal is unsettling in the quiet yard.

Just beyond the shed lies the fuselage for a 757 passenger jet. The tail section has been cut cleanly off. The wings are nowhere to be found. It resembles the aftermath of a plane crash.

We steal glances at each other, acknowledging how fucked up this all is.

Danielle has a video camera in her hands to record everything. She scans the piles of broken machinery and debris. The large main building stands before us. Rust-colored steel walls support a slightly pitched roof. There are two massive rollup doors and three smaller ones on the front. Off to the side is a doorway. Shannon heads toward it.