So the article was scheduled to come out in tomorrow’s newspaper. Beth Sullivan—alias Beth Wright, he thought with amusement—actually thought she was B going to expose him. But she was so wrong. He picked up the phone again and dialed the extension for Cottage B. One of the children answered. “Put Stella on the phone,” he ordered. He waited a few seconds, then the housemother answered. “Stella, send the team over for me, pronto. We have a job to do. Oh, and include Lisa Westin.” He went to the closet and pulled the rolled-up blueprints off the top shelf. There was one for City Hall, one for the Police Station, one for the courthouse, one for the St. Clair First National Bank . . . He pulled them out one by one, until he came to the one for the building housing the St. Clair News. He put the others back carefully, then went to his desk and opened the blueprint, spreading it out across his desk. There it was: all of the rooms at the St. Clair News, carefully labeled with their purposes and the machinery housed there.
