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“Yes. But there’s not much left to show you.”
    T ARA FOLLOWED L I AND D I R OSA THROUGH THE ARTERIAL halls of the structure, through the haze of dust and dim emergency lights. Only part of the power seemed to have been restored to this area of the complex. Flashlights shone under doors, and silent strobe alarm lights cast harsh, angled shadows along the walls. Where they walked, industrial green tile was speckled in dust and footprints, illuminated by caged utility lights daisy-chained to orange extension cords. In the churning darkness, Tara could hear the buzz of a generator, the snap of plastic, and the filtered echo of voices. Her heart still trip-hammered in her mouth. She hoped the other two would not see how tightly her fists were clenched. The darkness served only to amplify her claustrophobia, stirring it with dark, unseen hands. She walked behind Li and DiRosa, the plastic of her helmet squeaking like a dog’s toy as she hyperventilated.
    This was too much like before. Like suffocating.
    Breathe.
    Breathe.
    Breathe.
    Card readers glowed with dull green eyes studding each door still important enough to be fed by sparse emergency power. DiRosa slid an ID badge through one reader, keyed in a code on the door lock. The stainless steel lock whirred and opened, suggesting some heavy machinery at work in the walls.
    “That seems pretty low-tech for this kind of installation,” Li commented. “I would have expected biometrics—palm and retina scanners, that kind of thing.”
    DiRosa’s bow mouth twisted in a frown. “We don’t have the electricity to run them now. That part of the grid’s toast.” She gestured them through the door, unhooking a utility light and snaking its orange tail behind her.
    “This is it?” Li stared at the blank white room. It looked like a set piece from an existential film: white walls, steel desk, ergonomic office chair on wheels neatly tucked under the edge. The blotter stretched pristinely blank across the desk, unmarked with any notes, phone numbers, scribbles.
    Li yanked open the industrial green file cabinet. Drawer after drawer gaped empty. He turned to the two large flat-panel computer monitors perched on the desk. He reached under the desk to power the computer on, only to grab a handful of dangling cords. The PC case itself lay strewn in pieces on the cold floor, shattered open in a broken mass of technological spaghetti.
    Li yanked at its green guts, pulled out the cracked motherboard. “The hard drive’s gone.” He looked up at DiRosa accusingly. “This was your people.”
    DiRosa shook her head. “We found it that way.”
    “You have backups somewhere?”
    “We’re trying to pull them now.”
    “I need copies of all his correspondence, reports, memos—”
    “We’ll give you the ones we can, after they’ve been cleared.”
    “So you’re going to give me a pile of paper covered in Magic Marker redactions?”
    “Agent Li—” DiRosa began, and Tara heard the crack in her voice. “Please understand we must follow procedure.”
    “I understand that you want us to look, not touch.”
    “What I want doesn’t matter.” Her voice tremored.
    Li leaned on the edge of the desk. Now that DiRosa was outside Gabriel’s earshot, perhaps she would open up. Tara heard his tone soften as he switched tactics and tried to dig into the soft flesh of the man’s personal life. “How long did you know Dr. Magnusson?”
    “I’d worked on this project with him for six months.”
    “Tell me about him.”
    DiRosa blew out her breath, fogging her visor. But not before Tara could see her blinking back tears. “He’s. . . brilliant. And entirely aware of that fact.” She tried to rub her nose through the radiation visor, succeeding only in smearing a string of snot around.
    “He was your mentor?” Tara drew the conclusion based on their ages.
    DiRosa nodded. “It’s like trying to run after a racehorse. You know you’ll never catch him. . . but you surprise