“A powerful guy like Mitchell Goyette can incite a lot of fear in the right places,” Dirk noted.

“You are exactly right. I heard rumors that his acquisition of the building site was accomplished by a great deal of coercion. His building and environmental approvals breezed through without a hiccup, which is nearly unheard-of around here. Somehow, somewhere, there were some skids greased.”

Summer interrupted the conversation by entering the bridge with a vial of water held up in front of her. “Acidity level is normal, at least from a mile outside the facility.”

“Too far off to tell us anything for sure,” Trevor said, looking back at the facility with a contemplative gaze.

Dirk had his own deliberate look about him. He liked to play by the rules but had little tolerance for authoritarian bullying tactics. Summer liked to joke that he was a jovial Clark Kent, who always gave a handout to a beggar or held a door open for a woman. But if someone told him he couldn’t do something, he was apt to turn into the Tasmanian Devil. The confrontation with the security boat rattled his sense of propriety and alerted his suspicions, while silently elevating his blood pressure a few millimeters. He waited until the boat was docked and Trevor waved good-bye, agreeing to meet for dinner in an hour. Then he turned to Summer.

“I’d like to take a closer look at that sequestration facility,” he said.

Summer stared at the first lights of Kitimat shimmering on the water as twilight approached. Then she replied, answering in a way that Dirk least expected.

“You know, I think I would, too.”

16

It was after six P.M. when Loren and Pitt arrived at Georgetown University Hospital and were allowed into Lisa Lane’s room. Given her brush with death earlier in the day, she looked remarkably robust. A mammoth bandage covered her left shoulder, and her broken leg had been set in a cast and elevated. Beyond a pallor from loss of blood, she appeared fully lucid, and perked up at the sight of her visitors.

Loren rushed over and gave her a peck on the cheek while Pitt set a large vase of pink lilies next to the bed.

“Looks like the good folks of Georgetown patched you up nicely,” Pitt observed with a grin.

“My dear, how are you feeling?” Loren asked, pulling a chair up alongside the bed.

“Pretty good, under the circumstances,” Lisa replied with a forced smile. “The pain medication isn’t quite keeping up with my throbbing leg, but the doctors tell me it will heal as good as new. Just remind me to cancel my aerobics class for the next few weeks.”

She turned to Pitt with a serious look. “They’ve given me six units of red blood cells since I arrived. The doctor said I was lucky. I would have died from blood loss if you hadn’t found me when you did. Thank you for saving my life.”

Pitt winked at her. “You are much too important to lose now,” he said, brushing off his actions.

“It was a miracle,” Loren said. “Dirk told me how devastated the lab was. It is amazing that no one in the building was killed.”

“Dr. Maxwell stopped by earlier. He promised to buy me a new lab.” She smiled. “Though he was a little disappointed that I didn’t know what happened.”

“You don’t know what caused the explosion?” Loren asked.

“No. I thought it came from a neighboring lab.”

“From what I saw of the damage, it appeared that the blast was centered in the room where I found you,” Pitt said.

“Yes, that’s what Dr. Maxwell told me. I’m not sure he believed me when I told him that there was nothing in my lab that could have caused that large of an explosion.”

“It was a pretty powerful bang,” Pitt agreed.

Lisa nodded. “I’ve sat here and pictured every element and piece of equipment in that lab. All of the materials we have been working with are inert. We have a number of gas tanks for the experiments, but Dr. Maxwell indicated that they were all found intact. The equipment is basically benevolent. There was simply nothing volatile I can think of that would have caused such a thing.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Loren said. “Maybe it was something with the building, an old gas line or something.”

They were interrupted by a stern-faced nurse who came in and propped up Lisa’s bed, then slid a tray of dinner in front of her.

“Guess we better be on our way so that you can enjoy the hospital’s epicurean delights,” Pitt said.

“I’m sure it won’t compare to last night’s crabs,” Lisa said, struggling to laugh. Then her face turned to a frown. “By the way, Dr. Maxwell mentioned that an old car parked in front of the building was severely damaged by the explosion. The Auburn?”

Pitt nodded with a hurt look. “Afraid so,” he said. “But don’t worry. Like you, she can be rebuilt to as good as new.”

There was a knock on the door behind them, then a lean man with a ragged beard entered the room.

“Bob,” Lisa greeted. “I’m glad you’re here. Come meet my friends,” she said, introducing Loren and Pitt to her lab assistant Bob Hamilton.

“I still can’t believe you made it out without a scratch,” Lisa kidded him.

“Lucky for me I was in the cafeteria having lunch when the lab went boom,” he said, eyeing Loren and Pitt with uncertainty.

“A fortunate thing,” Loren agreed. “Are you as stumped as Lisa by what happened?”

“Completely. There could have been a leak in one of our pressure canisters that somehow ignited, but I think it was something in the building. A freak accident, whatever the source, and now all of Lisa’s research is destroyed.”

“Is that true?” Pitt asked.

“All the computers were destroyed, which contained the research databases,” Bob replied.

“We should be able to piece it together once I get back to the lab… if I still have a lab,” Lisa said.

“I’ll demand that the president of GWU ensure that it is safe before you step into that building again,” Loren said.

She turned to Bob. “We were just leaving. Very nice to meet you, Bob.” Then she leaned over and kissed Lisa again. “Take care, honey. I’ll visit again tomorrow.”

“What a terrible ordeal,” Loren said to Pitt as they left the room and walked down the brightly lit hospital corridor to the elevator. “I’m so glad she is going to be all right.”

When all she got from Pitt was a slight nod in reply, she looked into his green eyes. They had a faraway look, one she had seen on many occasions, usually when Pitt was struggling to track down a lost shipwreck or decipher the mystery of some ancient documents.

“Where are you?” she finally prodded him.

“Lunch,” he replied cryptically.

“Lunch? ”

“What time do most people eat lunch?” he asked.

She looked at him oddly. “Eleven-thirty to one, I suppose, for whatever that is worth.”

“I walked into the building just prior to the explosion. The time was ten-fifteen, and our friend Bob was already having lunch,” he said with a skeptical tone. “And I’m pretty sure I saw him standing across the street looking like a spectator after the ambulance left with Lisa. He didn’t seem to show much concern that his coworker might be dead.”

“He was probably in a state of shock. You were probably in a state of shock, for that matter. And maybe he’s one of those guys that goes to work at five in the morning, so he’d hungry for lunch by ten.” She gave him a skeptical look. “You’ll have to do better than that,” she added, shaking her head.

“I suppose you are right,” he said, grabbing her hand as they walked out of the hospital’s front door. “Who am I to argue with a politician?”

17

Arthur Jameson was tidying up his mahogany desk when an aide knocked on the open door and walked in. The spacious but conservatively decorated office of the natural resources minister commanded an impressive view of Ottawa from its twenty-first-floor perch in the Sir William Logan Building, and the aide couldn’t help but peek out the window as he approached the minister’s desk. Seated in a high-back leather chair, Jameson peered from the aide to an antique grandfather clock that was ticking toward four o’clock. Hopes of escaping the bureaucracy early vanished with the aide’s approaching footsteps.