Ryker’s jaw tightened, a small muscle twitching near his ear.

“Eleanor does not have the technical capability to use those codes,” Ryker said.

“She doesn’t,” Marco agreed. “She had help.”

The wind gusted outside, rattling the double-paned glass of the south window.

I walked softly to the window, peering out into the black Pacific Northwest forest.

Only the dark shapes of giant fir trees showed against the night sky.

“Who is she working with?” Ryker asked.

“Alderman Pendleton,” Marco said.

The name hung in the quiet room like lead.

Arthur Pendleton was one of the most powerful men in the municipal government.

He controlled the development committees and had deep connections to the transit police.

“Pendleton,” Ryker said, the name sounding like a curse in his throat.

“Thomas confessed that Pendleton’s people approached him three weeks ago,” Marco said.

“They offered him fifty thousand dollars to install the transmitter.”

“What does Pendleton want with my children?” Ryker asked.

“It is not the children he wants,” Marco said. “It is the land in the valley.”

“The old industrial sector,” Ryker said.