Gabriel Ice, the youngish tech mogul who is ostensibly this novel's antagonist, is dangled as a heavy in thrall to darker, shadowier forces, but there are hints that above and outside of the frame of this book, a game larger than 9/11 or related profit-minded conspiracy bingo is being played, that everyone is a pawn. Early in the novel, Tarnow is provided with a physical dossier on Windust, whose own history is so mottled and varied that we wind up wanting more of him; after she copies it onto her hard drive, "she's been sneaking moments away to look at it, not, lately, without twinges of colorectal fear, because each time she consults it now, there's been new material added." At one point, she examines three boys who are always loitering along the route that she walks to take her children to school and sees "three middle-aged men, gray-haired, less youthfully turned out, and yet she knew, shivering a little, that these were the same kids, the same faces." A superior cuts in on an exchange with a CIA functionary and pointedly refers to Tarnow's personal safety. Airline-stock levels go wonky in the immediate days leading up to 9/11. DeepArcher is constantly evolving and morphing under the command of new pioneers, commercial entities, and phantasms, and as the book winds down, Tarnow spends more and more time there. What is supposed to be a source of answers becomes almost a dalliance—the point of the book seems to become Tarnow's gradual reconnection with her Wall Street trader husband and the city's return to frazzled normalcy after 9/11. The mystery recedes, weirdly, to the fringes, with the advance of seasons and traditions and, yes, information elbowing the specter of manipulation out of the frame.