An hour after the overcast skies allowed enough light in to see, Collins saw the long line of vans as it progressed through the spot where the stolen van had crashed through the FBI barricade the night before. Jack walked down the steps and waited.
Niles Compton was assisted from the lead van and Jack moved to meet him.
“Quite a night in old Brooklyn, I understand?” he asked as he settled the crutch under his arm. Collins took him by the elbow for added support.
“More than we ever bargained for.”
“How bad is it?” Niles asked briefly, stopping as the other white vans pulled in behind the first.
“The explosive, an exotic one at that, took out the electrical lines under the river. No power to six of the seven buildings, including ours. But that’s the better part of the news,” Jack said as he shook his head at the devastation of learning what he had in the hours leading to Niles and the Event Group technical team’s arrival. “The attack also took out the base foundation of the building, flooding the PIT where the doorway was secured. Virginia said it looks hopeless, at least until she can get her full nuclear forensics and Jenks’s engineering teams in there.”
“Well, maybe I can help with that part at least.”
Jack saw the technicians as they started unloading material and boxes from the inside. That was when he saw Sarah and Anya. His eyes went wider when he saw Alice Hamilton giving instructions to the more than seventy engineers. He looked questioningly at Compton, who smiled and shook his head. Jack knew Niles would be inundated with the requests of at least two people who wanted to be included on the field teams and he knew they had forwarded those requests through the office of one Alice Hamilton. Jack knew without being told that Niles had held his ground but caved in at least allowing the two women on site during the mission.
“I knew you were afraid of Alice. You traded her their mission status to be on the home team in Brooklyn, didn’t you?” Jack said as Niles turned and started for the door.
“Yep.”
An old meeting room originally intended for naval engineers in the previous century had been cleaned and a dozen large monitors installed. Three of these monitors had a view of the PIT, which had been opened since the all-clear was given by the FDNY. The silent men and women sat around the elongated and very chipped-up Formica table and stared at the water-damaged devastation below their feet. Men and women technicians had pumped the remaining water from the PIT but most could see that the doorway would never function again in the shape it was in.
“First order of business,” Niles said as he rapped his knuckles on the table to get everyone’s attention. “Securing this site, Jack?”
“I assigned Colonel Farbeaux to that task.” Jack looked across the table at the Frenchman, who had conveniently arranged his seating assignment to sit between Anya and Sarah. He smiled at Jack for only a brief moment. He pulled up his notes on the electronic pad. “Henri?” Collins looked questioningly at Sarah, who shrugged her shoulders and then winked at Jack, which got her a return frown.
“With the assistance of Dr. Morales, I have learned that we may have a break in who was responsible.” Henri tapped another button on his pad and a monitor came to life. “This is a Russian immigrant whose real name is a mystery, but the NYPD has dubbed him the ‘Bolshevik.’ Goes by the name of Jones. Not very original, but most Russian mob types aren’t known for their originality in any areas except murder. That is this man’s specialty.”
The picture on the monitor was of a man with a black beard and one who seemed very jovial in the surveillance clip stolen by Europa from the NYPD.
“What led you to him?” Niles asked the Frenchman.
“Probability. Nothing happens in Brooklyn without this man knowing or being responsible for it. He is a former police captain with the Moscow Metropolitan Police. Very skilled. I once read a dossier on him back in the good old days when intelligence services could track him. As corrupt a lawman as there ever was. The man is a killer and is known to use nothing but military-grade weaponry and explosives.”
“But you’re not a hundred percent sure that he’s responsible?” Compton persisted.
“I know you people would like absolutes, but you’ll have to trust my instinct on this. This was well planned and very nearly flawlessly executed. Yes, I’m sure he at least knows about it and who did it.”
“I concur with the colonel,” Jack said as he studied the face on the monitor.
“Why?” Virginia asked out of curiosity.
“Let’s just say I believe he has insight to men like this, at least from Henri’s unique perspective.”
Chuckles sounded from around the table.
“Okay, get our friend here a link with Europa and get this man found and out of our way. I don’t give a damn about his reasoning for now. I just need this project secured. Needless to say the president was briefed this morning on what happened here last night and knows we are involved. He is still allowing us his new leeway time for oversight, so let’s not waste it. The directors of the FBI and CIA will soon start adding the two plus two here and begin asking questions the president could never begin to answer.”
Henri nodded and then shut off the program from his electronic pad.
At that moment the door opened and a Marine allowed Moira Mendelsohn into the room. The motorized chair stopped just inside the door. Niles, with difficulty, limped over and stood in front of her and introduced himself. Jack and the others were clearly seeing the respect Niles had for the Traveler. When Niles moved back to allow the Traveler inside several others, including Anya, stood to greet the great mind in the room. Moira’s inquisitive brown eyes went to Jason Ryan and she had to hang on to his hand a moment longer to examine his tattoo better. He half smiled and then pulled his hand away and sat next to Mendenhall, who held back a snicker at Jason’s facial design.
“What do you have, Virginia?” Niles asked as he watched Moira move in next to Jack and Charlie Ellenshaw.
“Professor Mendelsohn inspected what’s left and even with Europa’s help, as it was explained by our host, it would take at least seven months for her to reprogram the system and repair the water damage.”
“Not knowing just what this Europa is and its limitations, I would have to stick to my estimate,” Moira said as she took in the people around the table.
Virginia lowered her head and Jenks patted her leg, which elicited a kind look. The room was silent. Jenks slid his estimate for the loss of power lines and other damage to the local grid supplying power to the building as also a cause for concern, but now it seemed a moot point so he remained silent.
“Even if the doorway were operational and the power supply problem sorted out, we have no connecting doorway for our signal to lock on to,” Virginia said with a nod toward the Traveler.
“If I may ask a question that I am sure is readily known by most in this room,” Moira said as she faced the Group, “but if you had a repaired doorway, or maybe even a duplicate, second doorway, how far back, dimensionally speaking, are we talking about?”