Sergeant Coleman sat diagonally across from him, to his left, poring over some deep-level technical specs that radiated an aura of mathematically induced headache at least six feet wide. Sahil and Wright were in quiet conference at the far end. Behind Lincoln, Pence was lying on the floor with one arm draped over his eyes. They’d been at it a good fourteen hours. Fortunately, the planning room was stocked with water, food, and, most importantly, coffee. A fresh pot was brewing, and though Lincoln hadn’t been out for fresh air in a while, he was pretty sure the aroma of the coffee was probably helping mask the funk of five people crammed in a planning room for over half a day.Colonel Almeida had told them that the National Intelligence Directorate and the 23rd had a few threads for Lincoln and his team to pull on; good starting points. Images representing each were displayed on one wall of the room, a virtual murder-board to build and break connections as the team talked through it all.
