She loved those games. He was slightly better than she. That added to the excitement.

Now, she thought. Now’s the time.

“Barry, the stakes are high here. The death of Moreno and the others in the Bahamas are one thing. But the bomb in the coffee shop, the murder of Lydia Foster, that’s—”

“What?”

“The bomb, the murder of the witnesses.” Laurel appeared perplexed.

“Wait. What are you talking about?”

She paused. Then, surveying his face closely, said, “The individual trying to stop our case, the specialist, they’re called, aren’t they? He killed a witness in the Bahamas and one here in New York. He detonated an IED to destroy a computer holding evidence, nearly killed a half dozen people, including an NYPD police detective. You’re not familiar with these?”

“No…”

Bishop to queen’s knight three. Check.

She whispered, “Yes. Oh, yes.”

He looked away whispering, “Minimal steps…”

She didn’t know what that meant.

But Laurel did know that this wasn’t an act. Shales, of the pink flesh and eyes impossibly old and achingly blue, hadn’t known anything of Unsub 516. Not a single thing. Shreve Metzger had thoroughly deceived him.

Work it…

“Well, Barry, we have proof positive that this man was in the Bahamas around the time of your drone strike. We thought he was your partner.”

“No, I work alone. NIOS sometimes has assets on the ground for intel…” His voice faded.

“Who are sent there by Shreve Metzger.”

Not a question.

“Sometimes.”

“So he’s the one who manipulated the evidence in the first place. And has been trying to stop the investigation.”

“You have a name?” Shales asked.

“No, he’s an unknown subject at this point.”

Shales whispered, “Tell me, who’s this Lydia Foster you mentioned?”

“Moreno’s interpreter here in New York. This unsub killed her. He was eliminating witnesses.”

“And the bomb, was that the gas main explosion in the news the other day?”

“Yes, that was the cover story. But it was a bomb. The point was to kill investigators and destroy evidence.”

The pilot looked off.

“And two people died?”

“And they were both tortured first.”

He said nothing. His eyes focused on a dime-sized ding in the table.

“Barry, you called the South Cove Inn two days before the Moreno assignment. You called from your operational phone, registered to Don Bruns.”

If he was surprised at this he gave no reaction.

“I know why you called,” Laurel said softly. “It wasn’t to confirm Moreno’s reservation. The CIA or NIOS’s own assets could verify he was going to be there. You wanted to be sure that he was going to be there alone. That his wife and children wouldn’t be coming with him. You wanted to be sure. So that there was no collateral damage.”

The airman’s lip trembled for an instant. He looked away.