He pulled out a printed photo of a sketch Corbin had made, marveling at the detail and quality of her art. He slid it across to them.

“What’s this?” Wanda asked.

“This is where we believe the target is located.”

“Where is it?” Bill asked.

“Well, that’s what we need help determining,” Jed said. He was aware of Colonel Mitchell’s head turning slightly left and right, like a man watching a tennis match, listening carefully and quietly to the exchange.

“Obviously,” the female intelligence specialist said. “But I mean, where generally do you think it is? I mean, where was the artist located when this was sketched?”

“Hard to say,” Jed said, trying his best to dodge the question. “Like I said, we believe it’s in this area somewhere—New Jersey or Pennsylvania, maybe southern New York.”

“I think what Wanda is asking is where was the operative positioned at the time that sketch was made?” Bill said, frustration in his voice.

“Hard to say,” Jed said. Bill let out a snort and handed the sketch back to Wanda. “Look, I’m not being cagey or trying to protect an asset. Nothing like that. We just, literally, don’t know.”

“Hard to say, huh?” Bill sighed. He bent over and looked at the sketch again. “Look, guys, we’ll help however we can, but I gotta be honest, this picture is about as helpful as a picture of a needle and a guess that it might be in a haystack somewhere. You have no markings on this sketch at all—no names or building numbers, no geography in the background. This looks like about a hundred thousand other hangars or warehouses all around the country . . .”

“Hangar, probably,” Wanda said. “There’s a wind sock . . .”

“A warehouse could have a wind sock for helicopters to land,” Bill argued.

“Yeah, but see these circles in front, on the concrete outside—spaced evenly. They look like airplane tie-downs. The details are remarkable for a hand-drawn sketch. This is likely at an FBO or on the executive side of a larger airport.”

Bill gave a grudging nod. “Like I said, she’s the best 35 Foxtrot we have. But still, this is not much to go on.”

“We can run it through the image stock pretty quick with the computers over at—” Wanda stopped and glanced at her boss. “Over at the parent command.”

“Yeah, we can start there,” Bill agreed. “But still . . .”

“I know,” Wanda said. “It’s not much. Any chance you can get us more? Any other landmarks at all? Anything?”

Jed nodded. “We can ask. Our intel people never cease to amaze us,” he said, a memory of Corbin and Sarah Beth playing the card game Speed at a blur in the eastern Tennessee safe house coming to him. “Do you have a TOC we can stream intel to as we get it?”