+18 eps. 17-21 - After a hard case that takes the team to DC in order to catch a blackhat and prevent a bombing, all hell breaks loose on their return to Boston , when the ghost of the Libra killer comes back to torture Brock seven years after the m...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Brock thought of checking in when he finished the awful paperwork Cassidy had requested out of the blue. He was about to leave his office when his phone buzzed with an incoming text. Gillian? Her two words—got him—launched him down the hall to the meeting room.
He found Kurt working at full steam on three computers at the same time. Aldana worked on another. Hank pinned together a four-page satellite map of a residential area. Gillian stood before the larger map, phone to her ear.
"Yes, ma'am, the packages sent to Boston carry enough materials to assemble six to eight small bombs," he heard her say. "I agree, ma'am. Don't worry, we'll be ready, so you can pick up whoever claims them tomorrow morning."
Brock's cologne grabbed Gillian's shoulders and made her turn around. He was two steps away, studying the large map and the color stacks on the three cities. Cooper's dry voice demanded her attention. "Yes, ma'am," she replied. "Good luck to you too."
Cassidy strode in while she disconnected. "So, Gillian? How many men?"
Hank waved for them to take a look at the satellite map. He drew a red cross on one of the houses.
"This is where we think he lives," he said. "We're waiting for Ron's report from there. But with this, we can pick where to set our watch."
Brock looked closer and pointed at a house across the street. "That one has a for-sale sign. We should contact the broker. If it's vacant, we can use it as our base for the night."
Gillian joined them, now a hand to her radio earphone, as she repeated Brock's words to Fred.
Cassidy pointed at the backstreet. "We need to keep an eye there too, in case he tries to leave through the backyards." He nodded to himself. "So six men will do. I'll get them." He strode out and away.
"Al, find us contact information for one Royal Real State," said Gillian, and turned again to the satellite picture. "It's vacant. Hank, call the broker and explain the situation. We need the keys to that house by nine p.m. tops."
"Yessir."
She waved at Brock to go back to the large map. She didn't need him to ask for an update. "All the packs were sent to one of these three cities, to mail offices in a small ratio. Save three packages."
"The ones sent to the Alexandria address."
As he spoke, he had a glimpse of a man at the door, but he assumed it was Cassidy and didn't bother to look up. Gillian had her back to the door and went on, unaware.
"Hank, Al, and Ron agree that these three packs have all you need to build a small bomb."
"So you think he wants to put his plan to the test."
"Is what bombers do, right?" she replied. Brock nodded. "Like we said a while ago: patient, sophisticated, organized."
Both of them were already engaged in the conversation and oblivious to the world around them.
