Say in Unison

 253.

I am dialing Julie when Mustang alerts me to her holding on another line. Julie is also included in the access protocols for media/data inclusion to the Big Board. I am watching the changes to the screen like a sports gambler might watch live updates in Vegas, a hundred possibilities all rendering towards one result: one winner. Or in our case one loser.

A new photo ID has popped up on the screen, someone I immediately recognize but cannot recall name or affiliation. Starring at his image to nudge memory I take the call from Julie, apologizing for her wait time.

"Are you looking at his picture?" She asks in a moment of unfiltered clairvoyant light.

"I see him but can't name…put a name…on him."

"Richard Pierson, your old pal from The Academy, now the lead inspector for Southern Division FBI Forensics," She tells me, "Officer in Charge of the bomb investigation, on the ground, active."

"OK, good news, can you connect us?"

"I can, and will, but there is also a bit of new data he is going to share with you that I feel you should know about before your, what thirty-year reunion?"

"Shoot."

"While I was on hold - you were on with Sarccino - he told me that they have received a scrambled message from the person now claiming responsibility for the bombing."

"Outstanding, but please don't tell me we got copy-cats springing to action."

"Worse, looks like we got a hostage situation, with the perps threatening another blast if….if we don't release…Mr. Big from SuperMax Florence by midnight tonight." She informs us as I watch the Big Board reflect the news like a long-shot's photo-finish.

"That connects," I watch in simulcast as the algorithm pixels the motion graphic, "C to MBI and MBI to Hartaugh and C and MBI to…"

We say it in unison: "The Queen."