And as for the other case, the attempt to trap the Watchmaker in Mexico City? Nothing but the mysterious circuit board, its owner's manual and two meaningless numbers: Five hundred seventy and three hundred seventy-nine . . .
Which put him in mind of other digits. Those on the clock nearby, the clock counting down to the next deadline.
SECOND DEMAND NOTE
* * *
--Delivered to Bernard Wahl, Algonquin security chief.
--Assaulted by Galt.
--No physical contact; no trace.
--No indication of whereabouts or site of next attack.
--Paper and ink associated with those found in Galt's apartment.
--Additional traces of alternative jet fuel embedded in paper.
--Attack on military base?
PROFILE
* * *
--Identified as Ray
mond Galt, 40, single, living in Manhattan, 227 Suffolk St.
--Terrorist connection? Relation to Justice For [unknown]? Terror group? Individual named Rahman involved? Coded references to monetary disbursements, personnel movements and something "big."
--Algonquin security breach in Philadelphia might be related.
--SIGINT hits: code word reference to weapons, "paper and supplies" (guns, explosives?).
--Personnel include man and woman.
--Galt's relationship unknown.
--Cancer patient; presence of vinblastine and prednisone in significant quantities, traces of etoposide. Leukemia.
--Galt is armed with military 1911 Colt .45.
Chapter 47
THE TV WAS on in Rhyme's lab.
As a prelude to Andi Jessen's press conference, which would start in a few minutes, a story about Algonquin Consolidated and Jessen herself was airing. Rhyme was curious about the woman and paid attention to the anchorman as he traced Jessen's career in the business. How her father had been president and CEO of the company before her. There was no nepotism involved, though; the woman had degrees in engineering and business and had worked her way up, actually starting as a lineman in upstate New York.
A lifelong employee of Algonquin, she was quoted as saying how devoted she was to her career and to her goal of building the company into the number-one player in both the generation of electricity and the brokering of it. Rhyme had not known that because of deregulation a few years ago power companies had increasingly taken to brokerage: buying electricity and natural gas from other companies and selling it. Some had even sold off their interest in the generation and transmission of power and were, in effect, commodity dealers, with no assets other than offices, computers and telephones.
And very large banks behind them.
This was, the reporter explained, the thrust of Enron's business.
Andi Jessen, though, had never slipped over to the dark side--extravagance, arrogance, greed. The compact, intense woman ran Algonquin with an old-fashioned austerity and shunned the splashy life. She was divorced and had no children. Jessen seemed to have no life other than Algonquin. Her only family was a brother, Randall Jessen, who lived in Philadelphia. He was a decorated soldier in Afghanistan and had been discharged after an injury by a roadside bomb.
Andi was one of the country's most outspoken advocates for the megagrid--one unified power grid that connected all of North America. This was, she felt, a far more efficient way to produce and deliver electricity to consumers. (With Algonquin as the major player, Rhyme supposed.)