“My thought is, at this late hour perhaps security mandates could be waived and we could reach out to Mrs. McDowell. We could put all we have—our conclusions, the time frame, the immediate anticipation of action in the countersniper plan—before her and ask her for an opinion. Well, not so much about what we plan to do but on our reading of what Juba wants to do. Maybe she’d see something we missed, maybe she’d bring an outside-the-box freshness to it, maybe there are vibrations, memes, motifs, indications, resonances, some sort of clues that we’ve missed to which she’d be sensitive. After all, we have several hours, by my watch, until the event itself is thought to transpire, so there does seem to be just enough time.”

Nick thought it over. It involved logistics, not his strong suit. He turned to Chandler.

“Is this possible?”

“Well,” she said, “I don’t think Mr. Gold means by phone, does he?”

“Face-on-face would be preferred,” said Gold. “That way, we could read her expression as she considers the analysis, which may be more elucidating than anything she might say.”

“She’s where? In the suburbs of Baltimore?”

“In the city itself, northwest Baltimore,” said Swagger. “It’s called Dorsey’s Forge.”

“What aviation assets do we have?” Nick asked Chandler.

“None. They’re all at Quantico, out of play.”

“Maryland State Police has aviation,” said Neill. “At Martin airfield, just north of Baltimore.”

“Chandler, could it work?”

“Maybe get Maryland to pick her up at some park near her home. They get her to our roof inside an hour. That would give us two hours with her to go over the stuff. I think it could be valuable.”

“Swagger?”

“She ain’t no dummy.”

“Neill?”

“Well, if nothing else, it would dispel all those little ‘if only’ doubts we have. It would represent us making every last effort, all the way to game time. No stone left unturned, that sort of thing.”

“Bob, can you call her and see if it’s even possible?”

Swagger took out his phone, punched in the number.

Two rings, three, halfway through a fourth: “Yes?”

“Janet, it’s Swagger.”

“Oh, hello,” she said.

“What’s your situation?”

“I have no situation. I’m about to clean the upstairs bathroom, in an attempt to forestall my daily martini spree another hour.”

“Is there a field, an open space, anywhere near you?”

“There’s a schoolyard two blocks away. Scott Key Elementary School.”

“Hold a second. Oh, better yet, don’t start on the bathroom. Let us do some checking at this end. Put on some comfortable shoes.”

He hung up.

“Okay,” said Nick, picking up a phone.

On-screen, they saw as in the Command Center, somebody came to the Director, and he rose and was led to a phone off camera.

Nick made the pitch.