CHAPTER NINETEEN
“He said death from the skies,” Luke said into the satellite phone. “He said a sick, twisted American would do it, someone who had gone insane.”
Trudy’s voice came back to him. “It’s not much to go on, Luke.”
“It’s a start, Trudy. If it’s true, it means they’re going to spray from the air, maybe a helicopter or a crop-dusting plane. We need to do a search for chopper and small plane pilots with a history of mental illness, maybe people who’ve been in psychiatric hospitals, or even just in jail. Maybe former military with posttraumatic stress disorder, or nursing some kind of grudge.”
“Luke, we’re almost out of time.”
“Trudy, what’s the matter with you? I’m your boss. Don’t argue with me. Just do what I say. Pull together twenty people and start searching databases. In
