Although there was a chair behind the desk, he chose to stand while the conference call was coming together. “Six precincts around the park,” he said, sketching a rough drawing on a piece of paper. “West is the Two-Oh and the Two-Four; east is the One-Nine and the Two-Three; north is the Two-Six and the Two-Eight.” “What about south?” “Midtown North covers the whole length of Central Park South. I don’t know all the captains personally, but Susan—Susan Uzaki, our switchboard operator—gave me their names and says she can get them all together.” “Susan won’t tell Yarborough?” “Susan and I go way back. She’ll give me a little head start.” Fullam’s mouth curled in a half-smile. “Apparently there’s already been some talk about a situation—the Two-Four and the Two-Oh have been getting calls for the past half hour about a brownout and just generally weird feelings.” “Everyone’s on the line, Frank,” came a female voice from the speaker. “Good luck.”
