The Burning Wire

my way—”
    “Charlie,” she broke in, “you’re in danger.”
    “What?”
    “Where are you?”
    “In the convention center, about to . . . What do you mean, danger?”
    “Are you near anything metal, anything that could produce an arc flash or something that could be rigged with a hot line?”
    He gave an abrupt laugh. “I’m standing on a metal floor. And I was just about to open a bathroom door with a metal handle.” Then the humor faded from his voice. “Are you saying they might be booby-trapped?”
    “It’s possible. Get off the metal floor now.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “There’s been another demand and a deadline. Six-thirty. But we think the attacks—the hotel, the elevator—don’t have anything to do with the threats or demands. They’re cover-ups to target certain people. And you might be one of them.”
    “Me? Why?”
    “First of all, get someplace safe.”
    “I’ll go back to the main floor. It’s concrete. Hold on.” A moment later he said, “Okay. You know, I saw somebody here, watching me. But I don’t think it was Galt.”
    Rhyme said, “Charlie, it’s Lincoln. We think Ray Galt was set up. He’s probably dead.”
    “Somebody else is behind the attacks?”
    “Yes.”
    “Who?”
    “Andi Jessen. The man you saw might’ve been her brother, Randall. The evidence shows that they’re working together.”
    “What? That’s crazy. And why’m I in danger?”
    Sachs continued, “Some of the people killed in the other attacks were involved in alternative energy production. Like you. We think that she may have been bribing renewable power companies to cut backgeneration, to keep up demand for Algonquin’s electricity.”
    There was a pause. “Well, it’s true, one of my projects’s been to consolidate regional grids so that they could be more self-sufficient—and start supplying juice to the big interconnections, like Algonquin. I guess that could be a problem for her.”
    “Have you been to Scottsdale recently?”
    “I’m working on some solar farm projects near there, yes, among other places. California, it’s wind farms and geothermal. Arizona is mostly solar farms.”
    Sachs said, “I was thinking back to something you said when I met you at Algonquin. Why did she ask you to help me with the investigation?”
    He paused. “You’re right. She could’ve asked a dozen people.”
    “I think she was setting you up.”
    Then he gasped and said, “Oh, Jesus.”
    “What?” Rhyme asked.
    “Maybe it’s not just me who’s at risk. Think about it: Everybody here at the convention’s a threat to Algonquin. The whole event’s about alternative energy, microgrids, decentralization. . . . Andi could see every exhibitor here as a threat, if she’s that obsessed with Algonquin being the number-one energy provider in North America.”
    “Is there somebody at Algonquin we can trust? Somebody to shut off power there? And not let Andi know?”
    “Algonquin doesn’t run service here. Like some of the subway lines, the convention center makes its own juice. The plant’s next to the building here. Should we evacuate the place?”
    “Would people have to go over a metal floor to get outside?”
    “Yes, most of them would. The front lobby and the loading docks are all steel. Not painted. Pure steel. And do you know how much electricity there is feeding in here? The load on a day like this is close to twenty million watts. Look, I can go downstairs, find the supply. Maybe I can pull the breakers. I could—”
    “No, we need to find out exactly what they’re doing. And how they’re doing it. We’ll call as soon as we know more. Stay put!”

Chapter 73
    SWEATING, FRANTIC, CHARLIE Sommers looked around him at the tens of thousands of visitors at the New Energy Expo, some hoping to make a fortune, some hoping to help, if not save, the planet, some here because it seemed like a fun idea to stop in for a while.
    Some were young, teenagers who, like him years ago, would be inspired to take different courses in high school after seeing these exhibits. More science, less foreign language and history. And become the Edisons of their generations.
    They were all at risk.
    Stay put, the police had told him.
    Crowds jostled, carting colorful bags—the exhibitors’ giveaways, with the company logos printed boldly: Volt Storage Technologies, Next Generation Batteries, Geothermal Innovations.
    Stay put . .  .
    Except his mind was in a place his wife called