"So we may have a day, a week, a month?"
"I wish I could say. The nine-eleven warning came on September second."
Jack had a feeling this warning would be equally fruitless. Finding an Arab terrorist cell in Bay Ridge… good luck.
But what did they know so far? The northern flank of the Verrazano Bridge was visible from the cell's window. That narrowed the area to Bay Ridge's western rim.
Not narrow enough. Not nearly enough.
"Are these Alarms ever repeated?"
The Oculus shook his head. "Never."
Swell.
"Okay, can you remember seeing anything else through that window? Anything at all?"
He closed his black eyes and leaned back. "Let me see if 1 can reconstruct it."
For a while the only sound in the room was breathing, then the Oculus's eyes popped open as he stiffened in his chair.
"The building across the street. I saw the bridge across its roof. It had a redbrick front."
Jack suppressed a groan. Probably ninety percent of the buildings in Bay Ridge had redbrick facing.
"Anything else? A funny chimney, a crazy antenna, a satellite dish—anything to make it stand out?"
"No, just—wait. The cornice! The building had a faded yellow cornice carved with a drape flanked by two inverted hearts."
Jack rubbed his vaguely itchy scars. "West Bay Ridge, in sight of the Ver-razano, across the street from a redbrick building with a pretty specific cornice design." He looked at Davis and Miller. "That sounds doable to me. How about you?"
Davis and Miller nodded.
Jack sighed. Looked like he'd just become a double secret temporary yeniceri in the Militia Vigilum.
But no black suit. No way was he climbing into a black suit.
6
After they'd finished arguing the suit issue, after Davis and Miller had changed into their uniforms, and after Jack had his heat back in his holsters, they were ready to go.
Davis held out a pair of sunglasses. "At least wear the shades."
Jack had no problem with that. He took them and checked them out, turning them over in his hands. Sleek black frames, slight wraparound.
"Okay. Sure."
"Put them on."
"I'll wait till I get outside."
Davis grinned. "No, try them. They'll surprise you."
Jack slipped them on and—
"Whoa!"
The room had barely darkened. He took them off and checked the lenses, but from the outside they looked impenetrably black. He'd seen photochromic lenses, even owned a pair once, but this was different.
"How do they do that?"
Davis shrugged. "Don't know. They're something the Twins came up with. Pretty cool, huh?"
Jack put them back on and looked around. Almost like not wearing shades at all.
"Hot."
"The 0 is calling other Homes for reinforcements, but we can't wait."
Jack spotted Zeklos standing off to the side, watching them. The longing look on his face tugged at Jack.
He turned to Davis and jerked a thumb at the little guy.
"What about Zeklos? Why not bring him along?"
Miller overheard that.
"No way. He's out for retraining. Besides, he's a menace."
"But he's got two good eyes," Jack said, and left it at that, hoping Davis would pick up the ball.
He did: "Yeah, Miller. Right now we can use all the eyeballs we can get."
"I told you—"
"Would you be saying that if the Twins were here?" Davis said, showing some heat. "You going to let your personal feelings pave the way for another nine-eleven? You want to win this one or not?"
Miller stood silent a moment, staring at Davis, then Jack, then Zeklos, then back to Davis.
"All right. He's another set of eyes, but that's all. He doesn't suit up and if we have to make a move, he stays put."
Davis turned to Zeklos. "That okay with you?"
Zeklos nodded, then glanced at Jack. Something like love glowed in his eyes.
7
After a lengthy, contentious discussion, with most of the heat coming from—of all people—Miller, they yielded to Jack's logic: A four-way split on foot would be the most thorough but would take the longest; pairing off in two cars would allow for only one dedicated observer per car, since the driver had to be watching the street. All four of them in one car would provide three sets of eyes to comb the cornices.
So it came down to Davis driving the Suburban with Miller shotgun, leaving Jack and Zeklos in the back.
Jack studied a Brooklyn map as they drove to Bay Ridge. He couldn't see how anyplace east of Sixth Avenue could have the view of the bridge the Oculus had described, so they started near the waterfront at Shore Road and Fourth—on the edge of John Paul Jones Park—and began working their way upriver and inland from there, snaking a winding course along the streets and avenues.
Bay Ridge was a typical New York melting pot. People of all races, all shapes and sizes. The usual delicatessens, tae kwon do studios, travel agents, restaurants, bars, and bodegas lined its streets. A BP gas station, a limo service, Domino's Pizza. Jack noticed a store awning that proclaimed itself a Tea Room and sported Arabic script.
While they waited at a red light at 99th and Third, two women wearing scarflike hijabs crossed in front of them, each pushing a baby carriage.
Miller said, "Oh, yeah. This is the place."
Davis turned onto Third Avenue. "I think we're too close to the bridge here."
Jack agreed but didn't feel the need to say so.
They were making progress, but to Jack it seemed maddeningly slow. If only they knew how much time they had.
To his right, Zeklos peered out his window, studying the edges of the passing roofs. Jack kept a look out his side but also kept an eye ahead. Not an easy task with Miller's hulking carcass jammed in front of him.
They kept doing their switchbacks, working the grid. On Third Avenue, between 92nd and 93rd, ahead and to the left, Jack spotted a three-story redbrick building with a cornice that might fit the Oculus's description. He wouldn't know until they were closer.
He nudged Zeklos and pointed. The little guy looked, then turned to Jack, eyes wide. Jack nodded and pointed to the front seat.
Zeklos hesitated only a second, then he leaned over the seat and pointed through the windshield.
"There is something!"
Davis slowed the car and craned his neck for a look. Miller leaned forward, doing the same.
"You know," Davis said, "that could be it. Good eye, Zek."
Zeklos glanced at Jack and said, "It was really—"
Jack gave him a hard nudge and shook his head.
Miller growled. "If he spotted it, you know it's wrong."
"Pull over," Jack said.
Davis stopped in an empty space before a fire hydrant and idled. Jack jumped out and looked at the building that faced the cornice. They could have been twins—three-story, brick-fronted apartment houses, but the second lacked a cornice.
He leaned close to Davis's open window.
"Give me your cell number."
Davis jotted it down.
"Okay. Drive around and keep looking while I check this out."
"Since when does he give orders?" he heard Miller say.
Jack walked away before he heard Davis's reply.
A mini-mart advertising Te-Amo cigars and lottery tickets occupied the building's street level. The residential door stood to the left. He stepped up onto the front stoop and began pressing random call buttons. Finally a tinny voice spoke from the speaker.
"Yes?"
Jack pressed his hand over his mouth and pushed a garbled mishmash of syllables through the fingers.
"What?"
He repeated the mishmash.
"Fuck it!"
The buzzer sounded and he pushed the door open. Once in he bounded up the stairs to the roof door. It warned that an alarm would sound if he opened it, but he couldn't find any contacts. He pushed it open and…