The bearded face appeared around the end of an aisle. “What?”

“Come look at this!”

“What?”

“I said come heah!” The accent may have been Queens, but the authority was regal.

The man shuffled up to the counter. “What?”

“Show ’im,” the woman ordered.

Ted held out the damaged file.

“What’s this?” Jimbo asked.

“You just gave me this file,” Ted said. “Look at it. I want to know who had this out last. This is obscene.”

Jimbo turned to the other clerk. “I didn’t let this go out this way

“Oh, for the love of Pete. Go find the paperwork.” She faced Ted and fake smiled a brush-off. “Thank you for bringing this to our attention. We’ll take care of it.”

Ted took a strengthening breath and fake smiled in return. “I’d like to know who was responsible.” The line behind him was beginning to grow again.

“We don’t give out that information,” the woman said. “Who’s next?”

He was saved by the return of the bearded clerk, who held a stack of request forms. “Give me a minute. It’ll be in here.”

The woman’s attention was split between dealing with Ted and the twentysomething title investigator with an eyebrow ring and studs in his cheek. She glared in frustration while Jimbo sifted the forms.

“Here it is,” Jimbo said, pulling one out and placing it on the counter.

She shot a hand out and covered it. “I’m sorry, sir,” she said, stressing the last word to remind him who was in charge. “I told you, we do not give out that information.”

But Ted had already read—upside down—the name on the file request form: Barbara Miller.

-8-

-8-

“What did you find?” Lester was waiting in the hall outside.

Ted didn’t want to talk there. He was spooked. “Let’s get outside first.” He needed space to think. It wasn’t merely the vandalism that had him reeling; it was the audacity of it and what that might mean in terms of scope. Someone had taken a great risk, one that could be easily discovered, if not connected to the perpetrator. That someone was protected. And protection meant power.

Lester took the lead going up the stairs, climbing them two steps at a time. Ted followed, matching his urgency as they sped out past the police and metal detectors in silence. The small group of protestors on the sidewalk chanted, “Keep the light! Kill the spike!” They carried signs: stop the tower. An earnest young woman with a wild mane of red hair blocked Ted’s way and thrust a flyer at him.