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to, Boatswain’s Mate 2nd Class Brad Liddell was staring down at him.
    â€œGood news, Beaumont,” he smiled, showing his oversized teeth. “Dooley and his pals shipped to Leavenworth yesterday. They were caught in the act, committing felony assault on a fellow prisoner. Open and shut. It added five years to their sentences and that’s an automatic transfer. So you’re OK. You pulled it off. Good for you. Funny thing is, no one could quite figure out how the guards who broke things up happened to be in D block at that time of night. They were normally assigned to the northeast perimeter detail at that hour. But they got new orders that very afternoon! What a coincidence. Some people think there’s a glitch in the computer. I know it’s true. I even have proof. It’s you, Beaumont. Am I getting through there? You’re the glitch in the computer. I’m no alpha geek, but I was good enough to hang a bag on the side of that little worm you wrote. I was stuck for a while. I had to reboot twice. But I nailed it finally.”
    The terminology penetrated the drug haze. There was another hacker at Miramar. Suddenly, he felt sea-sick, as if the bed was floating in deep water, rocked by groundswells, about to tip over. He closed his eyes but that made it worse. He opened them again. The kid was grinning down at him.
    This was bad. If Liddell turned him in, they’d transfer him to Leavenworth, too, and Dooley would be waiting. Actually, that would be the good part—a familiar face. He knew he couldn’t survive there.
    He tried to talk—was he going to beg or bargain? It didn’t matter; nothing came out.
    Liddell held up a hand.
    â€œDon’t bother, Beaumont. I’ll do the talking. And I’ll make it short since I’m not even supposed to be in here. How about this? You’re mine now. Whatever I want you to do, you do it. Whatever I need, you get it. Sometimes I just need to hit someone. Sometimes I need other things. I may keep you to myself and I may rent you out. All you have to do is keep me happy. Me and my friends. Think about that while your jaw heals. Look for me when you get out of here. Because I’ll find you if you don’t.”
    He squeezed the oxygen tube until Zeke’s eyes bulged. Then he was gone. Zeke started to fade again after that, but his last thoughts were of Kuwait and his commanding officer, his great friend with the sure-fire deal to keep Zeke out of prison. His true comrade who never even showed up at the court-martial.
    There was going to be a day of reckoning for that Judas. It would be intricate and cruel and Zeke knew exactly how to do it. The fool talked too much when he was drunk. Planning it would be logistically complex, but so what. It would take time, but that was okay. Zeke had all the time in the world.
    When he finally fell asleep, he was smiling.

Chapter Two
    A Person of Interest
    I hit the rewind button, held it down for a few seconds and then released it, exactly at the start of the message. The voice resonated through a distortion box, an electronic baritone. “I’m going to bomb the Pops concert. I’m taking out the ruling class of America and there’s no way you can stop me. Sell your little houses soon, because this island is finished. I’m going to turn it into a ghost town. Think about that future. I’m going to start it with a bang.”
    I pushed the off-switch. Haden Krakauer stared at me. “Do we have to hear it again?” I could smell the familiar tang of Halls menthol cough drops on his breath, and under it the faint hint of vodka. Haden, Haden, I thought. Get it together. He had been doing so well.
    â€œNot right now,” I said. “Tell me what you think. Some kind of prank?”
    â€œMaybe. I hope so. But I doubt it. “
    A small group of cops had gathered around the big table in the upstairs conference room. Detectives Kyle Donnelly and Charlie Boyce