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he didn’t want was them putting two and two together (one of those twos being Fort Hamilton and the other being the words terror attack ) and coming up with a disabling strike on the subway system. The thought had already crossed his mind. How could it not?
    He’d seen the same thing the day of the big blackout, back in the summer of 2003—as soon as people realized it wasn’t another terrorist attack, just a Con Ed issue, the atmosphere changed. The entire city relaxed. You could feel it ripple through the air. The fear dissipated. In its place there was mild annoyance and surprisingly open amusement at just how paranoid they’d all become.
    He hoped the mood would hold. It’d be a lot easier to guide everyone out if they weren’t jumping at every sound and shadow. Not that there were any sounds to jump at.
    There were, however, plenty of shadows.
    Jake brought up the rear, sweeping the beam of his Maglite back and forth to make sure he hadn’t missed anyone. When he reached the front car again he saw Luis standing in the open doorway, waiting for him.
    “Leave no man behind,” the conductor said, slapping Jake on the back as he approached. He waved his key.
    Jake stepped out, using the handholds to lower himself to the track. He moved to one side and hovered his light over the doors so Luis could lock them. The last thing they wanted was the power to come back on with an open and empty train waiting for some idiots to take it for a joy ride.
    Once that was done the pair followed everyone else doing the zombie walk through the dark toward the platform. Its lights were out as well, adding to the overall sense of eeriness. There were MTA workers with emergency flares standing by the edge, waving people along.
    “We’re the last ones,” Jake told them.
    “Got it,” the nearest flare-holder replied, and nodded sideways. “Go on. We were told to clear the station and stick around to guide any stray rats home.”
    Jake hauled himself up the ladder onto the service end of the platform.
    He pushed through the MTA Employees Only barrier to the public area. A few people still milled about, making their way slowly toward the tunnels and unmoving escalators that would eventually lead up to the fresh air. Most of the commuters had already cleared out, leaving this whole underground world with an unfamiliar feeling of abandonment.
    As Jake waited for Luis to catch up he caught movement off to one side and aimed his Maglite beam that way. The light picked out a pair of guys lurking near the exit stairs.
    They were dressed all in black. One of them had something shiny in his hand. A paint can?
    Fresh paint adorned the yellow tiles beside the stairs. It was some sort of scrawl, one of those weird old Egyptian hieroglyphs that had started appearing across the city. It wasn’t a gang tag. At least he didn’t think it was.
    As Jake focused on them, both men twisted their heads away from his light. But not before he caught a glint of green. It was something he’d seen way too often, back in the service. He recognized it instantly. They were wearing NODs—night optical devices. What the fucking fuck? NODs?
    Two thoughts rushed through his mind: The only reason you’d have NODs on hand was if you knew there was going to be a blackout. And the only way you’d know was if you’d caused it.
    “Hey! You! What the fuck do you think you’re doing!” Jake shouted at their backs, then took off after them.
    They were already scrambling up stairs worn down by the relentless trudge of city life and broken dreams, sure-footed as they ducked around the last lingering people. Their night-vision goggles gave them an advantage over Jake’s flashlight, but he was fast. He closed the gap quickly, moving others out of his way with his bulk and strength. He offered a litany of apologies as he pushed through the crowd, never once looking away from the two black-clad men in front of him.
    Halfway up the stairs he saw another mark, much like