Boston Blues - BLACKBIRD book 2

3. first approach

Gillian went back to her computer and printed the email. "D'you want a map of the city, sir?" she asked.

"Yes, please, but only of the downtown area, if possible," he said, taking the print to pin it to the board.

"Of course."

Knowing Brock on board was like finding a flotsam in the middle of the sea for Gillian. This was by far the biggest challenge she and her team had ever faced. With Brock's help, she hoped they would work it out in time to prevent whatever the crazy bastard was up to. At that moment, she couldn't care less about his not liking her. The sound of his calm, grave voice helped her to stay in control. And that brief dialogue was like a soothing hand on her shoulder, telling her she was doing fine, guiding her to find a more defined shape of the puzzle.

"Have you taken any measures, Lieutenant?"

"I've alerted Captain Cook—and he thought I'm crazy, for a change. I also asked the dispatch to increase the patrol presence in the North End. My team are readying our mobile explosive scanners to canvass the area ourselves."

Brock turned to her, frowning. "You think you can find something now? An attack to this part of the city will most likely take place in the morning, during the rush hour."

"I agree, 'cause the email was meant to be found then, when it would be too late for us to do anything about it. But unless he's on a suicidal mission, he needs to plant the bomb beforehand. So chances are he's out there right now, when nobody's around downtown, getting the show ready for tomorrow. It's a long shot, but maybe we can spot him, or find the device with our scanners."

Brock nodded. Yes, it was a long shot, but it was worth trying. Anything was worth trying in their situation. Russell came back with Tanya, who handed Brock the picture of a man sitting at a computer, his face hidden under a hood.

"That's our guy, T?" Gillian asked, approaching the board as Brock pinned the picture.

"The best shot I got from the internet café from where he sent the email. Kurt is trying to find'im on street feeds and get a better image," replied the girl, sitting at the table with her computer.

"What's Connor doing?"

"He's putting up a program to screen online activity of any suspect we may have, searching for hints in emails or posts to social media. Alright, shoot."

"We need a full list of everyone who applied to the SCU," said Brock.

Russell poured himself a coffee as he said, "I was thinking... Tech analysts are not physically aggressive, at least not as much as, for example, an explosives expert, or a regular officer used to field work, right?"

"I got it, Agent Brockner," said Tanya. "1023 agents from all over New England and different departments and agencies."

Brock knew Russell was right, so he said, "Leave out tech analysts, the current SCU members and any other agent without active field work."

"That leaves us 891 agents."

"How many with ATF background?" asked Russell.

"342."

"Currently living in the Boston area?" asked Gillian.

"That narrows it, but they're still eighty-six."

"Give us that list, T."

"We need to run a background check on all of them," said Brock.

"T, call Brandon to get the files of the agents from other forces. He's on standby for this," said Russell, and scoffed when Gillian and Tanya rolled their eyes—like they needed a fed tech to get access to any database. "Let's do this legally, please."

Tanya shook her head—what a waste of time.

Gillian turned to the board again. "If the subject is an explosives expert, it's like a firefighter going arsonist," she said in a low, thoughtful voice, standing by Brock. "He already knows all he needs to achieve his goal."

Brock agreed. "And that includes response procedures."

Gillian breathed deep, taking in what his words implied.

"How are you gonna canvass the area?" Brock asked.

She answered as she pointed on the map. "We're doing a sort of relay, with cars starting the same route and back, five minutes apart. Two police cruisers to cover the cross-streets."

He only nodded. Yes, one could always trust the punks-on-a-picnic for a quick deployment.

"I've got your files, Agent Brockner. Want me to print them for you?" said Tanya, ignoring Russell's frown—it was too soon for Brandon to have pulled any of them by himself.

"Yes, please. Lieutenant, we're gonna need you to take a look at that list, in case any name rings a bell."

"Sure. T, send those names to my tablet."

Ron knocked on the door and stuck his head in. "Coming, Reg?"

As Gillian left the meeting room, Brock turned to Russell. "You go. I'll stay here to take a look at those files," he said, and asked Tanya, "Can we have our tech linked to us?"

"He's already online, sir."

Fred came in and handed Brock a radio. "Here, Agent Brockner. Russell has one too, so we don't need to depend on phones."

Brock noticed the sniper carried one too. "Thanks," he muttered, slipping the earphone in place.

He heard Tanya speak, but she was talking over the computer to Connor in the next room. "How's it going, Pillbug? I'm gonna be busy for a while here."

"I'm playing Galaga on the helicarrier," the boy replied. "Kurt's running the program with the list."

"Then take on the feeds."

"Got it."

Fred was back to the main office and saw Connor's screens flooded with security footage from a dozen street cameras. He pulled up a chair and sat down with the boy.

"Let me lend a hand. What should I do?"

"Hold tight, do as I do and pretend it's a plan."

Fred narrowed his eyes. "That's season seven's Christmas Special."

Kurt chuckled from his desk. "There's still hope for you."