Nic tapped a photo on the table which displayed the best image they had of the giant. “I think we all know who’s the one calling the shots.”

“Yes,” Carter said, “but then why have this other man be the one communicating with us?”

“It’s hard to tell,” Nic replied. “Maybe he just doesn’t want anyone to hear his voice, so they can’t identify him later.” Nic looked to Burke and added, “What are your thoughts, doc?”

Burke had found a seat in the corner of the room and was leaning back against the wall with his eyes closed. He said, “At this point, it would be little more than conjecture.”

“This isn’t a thesis paper. Go ahead and conject.”

Burke frowned and said, “We obviously already have the large man’s voice on tape from the security footage. My guess is that he’s South African or at least from that region. So his reason for using an intermediary must be something else.”

“Like what?”

Burke shrugged.

“Any ideas?”

“Hard to say without knowing more about the facility and what they’re actually after. The big man seems to be calling the shots, but he may have better things to do than stalling us. And the weapon with the sound suppressor seems to have some fairly clear implications.”

“Such as?”

Carter stepped in and said, “Why does anyone want a suppressor? So they can shoot a hostage without any of us hearing.”

“We’d hear the screams of the other hostages,” Nic said.

“Unless they took the condemned into another room. Besides, the parabolic microphones we have on the building detected muffled screams earlier, but it wasn’t enough to justify a breach.”

Taz sighed and dropped the blueprints on the table. With his rapid Puerto Rican accent, he said, “None of this makes any sense.”

“They’re buying time, but why?” Carter said. “They triggered the alarm and told the workers to call the police, and now they’re stalling. But what could they possibly need time for? They can’t access any of the storage boxes, and even if they could, they obviously aren’t walking out of there.”

The door to the comm center opened, and a uniformed officer with a balding crown and a tattoo down his neck said, “Sorry to interrupt, but there’s someone out here who says he’s with the CIA.”

Chapter 29

August Burke really didn’t want to meet the agent from the CIA. To him, the agent was just another set of body languages, vocal patterns, and kinesic facial expressions that would need to be observed, catalogued, and analyzed. And this man would require an even deeper evaluation, since his profession mandated deception and misdirection as second nature. It was all so draining, both physically and mentally. And much of the time, despite his exhaustive efforts, he still couldn’t accurately understand what other people were thinking or feeling.

Burke, Carter, and Nic Juliano had followed the uniformed policeman outside. Burke saw his ’67 Firebird sitting across the parking lot. That was where his time should have been spent. His mind kept popping back to the muscle car. He should have been alone at the shop today replacing the header gaskets and setting and adjusting the valve lash.