One at a time, Sam watched the two Somali men squirming around in their fixed wooden chairs on a closed-circuit TV monitor. That’s how they would start, leaving the suspects alone for the first hour in a tactically cold and bare interrogation cell. That was the first step in weakening their minds and breaking their will, disorienting their sense of time while emphasizing their vulnerability. Their complete lack of control of any of their new stimuli, of anything in their situation. It was to also emphasize their disadvantage facing the entire unimaginably gigantic force of the FBI, and the futility in fighting against it.

As long as they cooperated, they would get the blanket, the warm cup of tea, the bowl of rice. They would get soft, understanding voices. Sympathetic people who “just wanted to understand,” or who were interested above all else in getting “your side of the story.”

It had nothing to do with leveling terrorist charges and the subsequent prosecution.

It only had to do with the truth.

Such was the bullshit a typical interrogator would offer their subjects. And even through an interpreter, this sentiment was made clear to these men, these brothers, Kafi and Timir Khalid. And even without the verbal interpretation, Sam could see that they weren’t buying it. They had studied up on their enemy.

Still, they were plenty nervous.

“So what do you think?” Captain Morin asked. “They telling the truth?”He’d been sitting next to Sam, and Sam was only too well aware of how the man had been studying him. The studier being studied. He was sure the captain had some behavioral training under his belt as well.

“Hardly.”

“Okay. Well, who’s being more deceptive? Kafi or Timir?”

“Neither. And those aren’t even their real names. I would put forward that they’d forged their passports.”

The captain turned to the woman next to him, mumbling something in her ear.

“There,” Sam said. “Look. You catch that?”

“What? What happened?”

Sam pointed to the screen and said, “He was just being honest.”

The captain chuckled and crossed his hands over his gut.

“He picked tea over coffee,” Sam said. “That was the most genuine I’ve ever seen him.”

Sam suddenly felt a tap on his shoulder, on the other side from the captain. It was Jasper, pushing a little hand-written note in front of Sam. It read, take it easy.

How could he take it easy on these guys?

They had just admitted to the biological attack.

And what made it worse was that Sam couldn’t even believe that. Yes, of course they were involved. But only on a minor level.

“I think you’ve got a pair of scapegoats here, Captain. Amateurs.”

“That wasn’t amateur work.”

“Exactly. It wasn’t their work. Sure, they might have been lookouts, or drivers, or involved in any other manner of shit work. But if you focus your investigation solely on—”

“We’re not focusing solely on anything.” The captain had raised his voice, and with it, a hint of indignation.

Sam could already feel Jasper breathing down his neck, his mental telepathy sending over more of his “take it easy” messages.

“They’re just some idiot kids,” Sam said, trying to sound a little more dignified in front of the captain.

“So, then, Mr. Hyde, why don’t you tell me how far the conspiracy goes up the chain, then?”

“There’s just more to it than this. The gas was so completely ineffectual. Now, I don’t expect these two clowns to know that. But the others, the masterminds . . . the people who supplied them, they had to know. And so why would they take such a huge risk?”

“Have you ever heard the advice, Mr. Hyde, about when your enemy does something stupid?”

“I don’t think I have.”

“If you know your enemy is about to make a mistake, you just let them. That’s how I feel about this. They fucked up, and it’s not my job to pick their brains over why, to go over every little angle on how they fucked it up. You just said it yourself, they’re fuckups. They’re kids.”

Sam shook his head. “You’re not after the right people.”

“Well, then why don’t you tell me who we should really be going after?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t?”

“I’m just a behavior analyst.”

“I hate to interrupt,” Jasper said, “But the whole idea of Sam coming out here was for him to have direct access. So he can ask questions. Watching on a TV monitor doesn’t help anyone.”

“I think it’s too late for that.” The captain turned to Sam, and in a lowered vice, said, “I understand you were there yesterday, early on.” The captain looked over at Jasper, and then back to Sam. “I also understand that you’ve had some friends caught up in the attack.”

“That’s correct . . .”

Captain Morin leaned back again, hands back over his big stomach. “You might be too close to this thing.”

“See!” Sam jumped out of his chair this time, marching toward the monitor and almost knocking it over off its wheeled stand. “See it? They just asked Timir if everything had gone to plan.”

“Yeah?”

“He said yes and it was a straight-up lie.”

“Okay.” The captain sounded bored.

“Do you really think their plan was to just give everyone a little fever and that’s it? If they had access to the technology to weaponize hydrogen chloride, then they sure as hell could have access to way worse stuff. Anthrax, VX, anything.”

“It’s all conjecture,” the captain said. “But continue.”

Sam tried catching his breath, refocusing, debating whether or not he should even continue with this.

“And could you please get the fuck out of the way? I’m trying to watch that screen, Sonny.”

Sam got out of the man’s way, quickly, and so efficiently that he had removed himself from the viewing room completely.

* * *

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa . . .”

Sam had a good ten-second lead on Jasper, storming down the hall toward the brightly lit glass, guards, and the metal detector archways of the compound’s main entrance.

“Sam, come on! Stop!”

Jasper’s pace picked up into a jog, his footfalls echoing off the walls, and getting louder until he felt that familiar slap on his shoulder. “Come on, man. You’re cracking up. Get a fucking hold of yourself.”

“I know.”

“You’re giving us a bad name.”

“I know . . .”

“Jackson pulled a lot strings to get you in there.”

“It’s over,” Sam said. “He’s gonna fire me.”

“Hey,” Jasper said, slowing him down. “He wouldn’t have sent me out here if that was the case.”

Sam looked at him “No. He would have sent Tansy.”

“He believes in you, Sam.”

Sam was nodding.

“Just don’t fuck it up.”

“You don’t consider that fucking it up?”

“Forget about that. Go home. Rest. Take care of your girl.”

Sam cocked his head at the word, at “his.” He hadn’t officially told anyone, but . . .

“What?” Jasper said. “You think I couldn’t figure that out? It doesn’t take a behavioral scientist to put that one together.”

Sam smiled. “Guess not.”

They started walking again, much slower. They passed security and left, back at the bright, fresh air.

“So,” Jasper said. “Are we good?”

Sam kept walking, replaying the whole thing in his mind.

“Sam?”

“I think this was a dry run, Jasper.”

“A dry run?”

“A drill. That substance they used, it could have been a dispersal agent. An experiment to track how it would spread in a large, populated area.”

“You really think terrorists are conducting scientific experiments?”

“Yes. They have an unlimited number of fanatics willing to die for the cause. Think of them like lab rats in an experiment.”

“They’re definitely some kind of rat.” Jasper paused, as if he was waiting for Sam to laugh or even smile. “Look, Sam, I’m serious about you taking some time off.”

“I already did. I slept last night.”

“For how many hours?”

Sam scratched the side of his neck, thinking about it.

“Sam, I think you need to sleep for a whole day.”

He couldn’t take that much time off the case. With the way the events were unfolding, the speed of new discoveries, he’d be light years behind.

“I’m gonna swing by your room tonight,” Jasper said. “You need a checkup. We’ll do some bloodwork.”

“Alright, alright,” Sam said, nodding. “I’ll get some sleep.”

His medic smiled.