As director of operations for the fledgling US Department of Internet Security and Law Enforcement—Net Force—Morse was intent on marking her territory. She knew her probe would irritate the CIA and likewise chafe its old-guard intelligence agency partners. With the world’s largest e-commerce site also party to the deal, a major dustup was clearly over the horizon.

Especially if things were even half as wrong as she feared.

She had sent her team to CloudCable’s Portsmouth, New Hampshire, headquarters in Dragonfly, a sleek, long-winged hovercraft that looked like it could have been a scout craft for intergalactic invaders. She had also dispatched a mobile cyberlab from the Bedford field office, a half hour’s drive from Portsmouth Harbor.

Call it overkill, but Morse was adept at shaping perceptions. She wanted a splashy entrance, and she meant to leave behind a big, bold organizational footprint.

Except it didn’t entirely turn out that way.

Mother Nature.

Normally, Dragonfly would have drawn all eyes skyward on its approach. But here on the coast right now, those eyes were indoors with their owners. Blame the once-in-a-century storm that had raged through northern New England the night before, flattening trees and utility poles from Massachusetts to the Canadian border. With large chunks of the grid out and a stay-at-home order in effect throughout the state, the only people out were emergency repair workers...and they were much too busy to look up.

It was a different story in Dragonfly’s passenger cabin, where Amenjot Musil, Net Force Investigations, sat at his window looking down at the ground. The aerial hop from Manhattan’s West Side took about an hour. He had spent the first thirty-five minutes of that hour staring at his tablet and reviewing what was known of the cable-layer CS Stalwart’s disappearance.

Given how little that was, Musil could have been done in five minutes. But he was a thorough man. Moreover, his companion on the flight seemed in no mood for friendly chitchat. Assuming it was just a mood, which by definition was transitory. It might be her usual disposition. Musil could not know, since he had only met her before boarding the aircraft.

Whatever the reason, Kali Alcazar wasn’t at all talkative. Not to Musil. Certainly not today. In fact, she had seated herself on the opposite side of the aisle from him, even though they were the only two in the cabin. Which had left him with nothing to do besides puzzle over the missing ship.

Until a few minutes ago when he’d looked out his window.