Breathing deeply, closing her eyes momentarily, she let the feeling settle, then fade.

The whistleblower…How the hell to find him now that the security video was gone?

It seemed hopeless. Anybody who used a complicated email proxy system to hide his tracks would have been smart about the mechanics of finding a place to upload the documents. He wouldn’t be a regular here and wouldn’t have used a credit card. But an idea occurred: what about other customers? She could track down at least some of those who’d been here around 1 p.m. on May 11. They might have noticed the whistleblower’s unusual computer, the iBook. Or maybe tourists had taken some cell phone shots of each other and possibly captured an image of the whistleblower accidentally.

She walked up to Jerry, the now very shaken manager of the late store, and asked him about credit card records. When he tore himself away from his mournful gaze at his shop he called Java Hut central operations. In ten minutes she had the names of a dozen customers who were here at the time in question. She thanked him and had the file uploaded to Lon Sellitto. Then she followed up with a call to the detective.

She asked if he could get some of Bill Myers’s Special Services officers to contact them and see if anyone had taken pictures in Java Hut on the day in question or remembered anybody with an odd-looking, older computer.

Sellitto replied, “Yeah, sure, Amelia. I’ll order it.” He grunted. “This takes the case to a whole new level. An IED? You think it was Bruns, or whatever his real name is?”

“Had to be him, I’d think. It was hard to see in the video but he roughly fit the description from the maid at the South Cove Inn. So he’s cleaning up after the assignment—probably on Metzger’s orders.” She gave a sour laugh. “And Java Hut’s about as clean as it can be.”

“Jesus—Metzger and Bruns’ve gone off the deep end. It’s that important to them, to keep this kill order program going that they’re taking out innocents.”

“Listen, Lon. I want to keep this quiet.”

He gave a gruff laugh. “Oh, sure. A fucking IED in Manhattan?”

“Can we play up the story it was a gas leak, still being investigated. Just keep the lid on for a few days?”

“I’ll do what I can. But you know the fucking media.”

“That’s all I’m asking, a day or two.”

He muttered, “I’ll give it a shot.”

“Thanks.”

“Anyway, listen, I’m glad you called. Myers’s canvassing boys tracked down the woman that Moreno drove around the city with on May 1, Lydia. They’ll have her address and phone number in a few minutes.”

“The hooker.”

He chuckled. “When you speak to her? I don’t think I’d say that.”

Chapter 34

CHAPTER 34