Extinction Machine

Chapter Fifty-three

The Harbor District

Baltimore, Maryland

Sunday, October 20, 10:25 a.m.

The black Yukon drove at a sedate speed past the long double chain-link fence that bordered the street side of Cobbler Records Storage. At the corner, they made a turn and drove away, tucked into traffic, hiding in plain sight.

“Okay,” said Aldo, “so that’s where it is. We could have seen it on the Ghost Box. There are pigeon drones all over the place.”

Tull shrugged. “It’s always better to put eyes on something. Hard to tell about architecture and building materials from a video feed, and the building plans are no longer on public record.”

“Church pulled them?”

“He made them disappear,” said Tull.

“Driving past the place is a piss-poor substitute for a blueprint.”

“Not always,” said Tull. “And not in this case.”