Page 5 of Delusional

“A little over four years.” She tried to read my expression. “I know local cops joke about the feds having no experience. I was a combat engineer and used all types of explosives in the Army. I mean I’ve used explosives in real life as well as in Afghanistan and as an assist in Syria. ATF was an agency made for me.”

“Impressive.”

Maggie cocked her head and said, “Do you really mean that or is it sarcasm? I’m not fluent in NYPD speak.”

“No, really, those are impressive credentials. My partner, Rob Trilling, isn’t here due to a personal emergency, but he was an Army Ranger. And I’m not here to steal your thunder. I’m just curious if the cases are linked.”

Maggie said, “I’d be interested in working with you. I’m assigned to the Newark field division, but my husband is an assistant US attorney for the Southern District of New York. That’s why we live all the way over on Staten Island. But it’s not that bad since most of my cases have connections to the city.”

I nodded. When we walked to the rear of the building, Maggie showed me where someone had cut the rear chain-link fence and used a crowbar to pop an impressive lock off the rear door of the building.

I saw the door and paused, remembering how the door had been pried open at the Office of Technology. Could it have been the same people who set the bomb there? I wondered about the timing. They couldn’t have been in two places at once, both in Manhattan, planting a bomb, and here, stealing supplies.

“You’re smarter than the average NYPD detective,” Maggie said with a smile. “The theft wasn’t even reported until the bombing at the Office of Technology. It prompted the arsenal’s security team to make a formal filing with outside law enforcement, but at this point the best we can figure is that this occurred sometime three to five days ago,” she told me. “There’s a blind spot in the video surveillance, and no one has any reason to come to this building often.”

“You know exactly what was taken from here?”

“They’re doing a complete inventory now. But we know they took some C-4, a loose artillery round, and a keg of black powder.”

“Black powder?”

“The kind used for loading old-fashioned rifles. One of the officers stationed here used it for muzzleloader hunting.”

“What could someone who knew their shit be able to do with all that?”

“Everything.”

CHAPTER 6

TOM OWENS INSISTED that all electronic and explosive material be stored in the room he was living in. Since Ellis approached him four months or so ago, Owens had located a safe house for the group by hacking into Airbnb rental records and blacking out dates to ensure the property would stay empty.

He didn’t care what went on in the rest of the house. He only needed one space that he knew was secure. Owens used the upper shelf in his doorless closet to hold the C-4. There wasn’t a whole lot in the steel container, but he knew he could do stuff with it. The real prize was the keg of black powder. A big keg. He liked working with it because he understood the properties and power of black powder.

A light rap on his open bedroom door made him turn his head from the closet.

Kimmy stood there bundled in a heavy blanket. She said, “Can I come in?”

Owens nodded.

“How’d you even find this place?”

“I saw it online. I wrote a computer program that let me look at the updates the owner of the house wrote over the last two years. I realized he never seemed to rent the place out in December anyway, so all I did was add a line to take it off the website so no one could inquire about it while we’re here. The owner has a bunch of properties, so I doubt he’ll ever notice.”

Kimmy sat on the edge of his bed. She said, “The way you can do those kinds of things is super cool.”

Owens shrugged. He didn’t know how to respond to compliments. He never had. He wasn’t like Ellis Warrenton, who seemed to smile and get practically anything he wanted. The guy knew how to talk to people. Talking to people was a skill that had always eluded Tom Owens.

Owens’s attention snapped to the doorway when he heard Pry’s low voice. The giant man wore a flannel shirt that made him look like an oversized lumberjack. Owens had learned that Pry’s real name was Leonard, but he was too unsettled by the man’s unpredictable behavior, as well as his size, to call him by that name.

Pry looked at Kimmy and said, “What the hell are you doing in there?”

“Just talking to Tom.”

“From what I’ve seen, Tom doesn’t really want to talk to you. Or anyone else.” He turned his head and said to Owens, “Isn’t that right?”

Owens shook his head. “I don’t mind talking with Kimmy. She’s nice and asks interesting questions.” He suddenly felt nervous, trying to judge Pry’s tone. He knew that the big man was attracted to Kimmy—she seemed to attract a lot of men’s attention—but somehow he sensed Pry was angry at her.

Kimmy spoke up. “Don’t try and scare him, Pry. We’re just talking.”