Page 57 of Radar

“No, I’m sure it was a magical moment,” White said dryly. “But in case she’s about to destroy the world in some crazed terror attack, I’m going to say this as plainly as I can: Don’t get emotionally involved.”

“Noted,” Xander said. “No problem there. Let’s move past this.”

“To your question about the four people in Lumberjack, this is what we have,” Hiro said. “We’d already been working on Orest’s movements into the United States. Eddie Baylor and Elyssa Kalinsky-Landers were on the same plane as Orest, flyingout of Newark. We’d also noted that they each had a room at the same hotel as Orest when they stayed overnight in Fairbanks.”

“I videotaped Orest boarding alone,” Xander said. “Did they all come out of D.C. together?”

“Negative, Orest flew up earlier in the day. In the couple of minutes since you sent your report, we were able to check the date that Eddie and Elyssa got their tickets. That was done this past Tuesday. At that late date, I’d imagine they took what they could get by way of flights. Their layover was skin-of-the-teeth.”

“Okay,” Xander said, looking down at Elyssa’s peaceful silhouette and pulling the blanket up to cover her back.

“We did a dive into the connections between the four. Claude is Orest’s researcher in Fairbanks. We’ll set him aside for the moment. Elyssa told you she has a familial connection to Orest Kalinsky, and you said Eddie is Elyssa’s friend. Before the flight to Alaska, Orest, Elyssa, and Eddie were in Paris together—or at least they all passed through customs at the same time.”

“Elyssa calls him Uncle Orest,” Xander said.

“Yes, we’re looking into which branch of the family tree she’s swinging from,” White said. “More on that when we have it.”

“I saw her picture,” Hiro began, “I—”

“Not a single other word about Elyssa that’s not case-related.” Xander’s newfound protectiveness became a growl in his chest. “There are boundaries.”

“Case related,” Hiro said. “Chill out. I saw her picture, and she doesn’t have the Zoric coloring.”

“Going back to my earlier question to you about your emotional proximity to this woman,” White said, “by making an intimate connection, you have a foot into the inner circle.”

“Inadvertently. I had zero idea,” Xander said. “I wasn’t using her.”

“Serendipity, then,” White said. “Xander, I’m serious here. I’m listening to you and, damned, man, it sounds like you’ve fallen over a cliff.”

“Nope. The comms must be playing with my voice. I’m good. I’ve got this,” he lied.

“Okay,” Hiro said, “play it cool while the profilers do their work. We’ll get back to you as we have insights.” There was a smile in Hiro’s voice when he said, “Want to hear some shit?”

“You weren’t already giving me shit?” Xander asked.

“Not even close to this. I was conducting AI analysis that included Orest’s and your routes at Newark Airport. We tracked Orest by CCV cameras. I included the track we have from your phone. His, you already know about. Nothing new there. Yours is the interesting one. During the stretch when you were moving the acid box from the men’s bathroom to the field, when you got exactly a hundred meters from the tower—and I meanexactlya hundred meters—tower communications came back online.”

“Let’s talk that through,” Xander’s heart was racing again. Ever since he talked to Anna in Bratislava, he felt like he’d been running a marathon. He remembered what she said about having to pace her room at night with a pillow to stifle her screams. He got it. This was unlike any battle he’d fought in the war. This was an existential threat to humanity that seemingly left the heads of intelligence unperturbed when it should be a five-alarm, all-hands-on-deck event.

Xander rubbed his thumb along the fine bone in Elyssa’s arm where she’d tattooed her good intentions. “I’m listening,” Xander brought his focus back to the conversation. “Was that when I moved off the tarmac onto the field? Because that was the moment when I smelled the acid.”

“A few strides before that,” Hiro said. “Which tells me it’s probable because it would take a few strides before the scent wafted up to your nostrils.”

“What I’m hearing about the exact one-hundred-meter point,” Xander said, “is that as long as the bag was left unfound in the airport, it could potentially continue interfering with tower communications with the planes, and those planes would have remained at risk?”

“Either that or it’s a strange happenstance,” Hiro said. “The timing is why I think that the carry-on was involved in the communications crisis. But there’s no way we’ll be able to prove any of that.”

Xander’s phone buzzed. “Incoming from Orest’s room. I’m looping you in.”

Xander made out the sounds of someone getting out of bed. A pee stream hit the toilet. There was a flush. Some heavy breathing and the zipper on his case.

“He didn’t wash his hands,” White whispered.

Xander was about to switch the surveillance to videotape when English was spoken over what must be Orest’s phone, set on speaker.

“You have everything set up?” Orest asked, then he coughed up some morning phlegm and spit it out.

“We’re a go. I’ve got it handled,” an unidentified, American-accented male said.

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