The Bricklayer - Boyd Noah - Страница 38
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“Meaning what?”
“Meaning he was expecting it to be found,” Vail said.
“So what if he was? There’d be nothing to lead back to him or the murders.”
“That makes sense except that he parked it directly in front of his house.”
“Enough. We’ve got the car. Search it, and if there’s nothing in it we’ll move on. Pop the trunk,” she said, and then looked down at her hands. “I tore my gloves. I’ll go get another pair.” Vail reached down and pulled up the release, and the quiet click of the trunk opening came from the back of the vehicle.
Something didn’t make sense about the car. Everything throughout the case had been carefully planned and executed. Why leave a stolen vehicle in front of his house, especially after Vail had seen it?
Kate walked back in and came up to Vail, pulling on a fresh set of gloves. “Helloooh, can you open the trunk?”
Absentmindedly he said, “I did.”
She looked back at it and then reached around him and pulled the lever again. When she didn’t hear it release, she examined it again. “This one doesn’t pop open nearly as high as mine.” She started back toward the trunk.
Kate took hold of the trunk lid. “Hold it!” he yelled. She ripped her hand away as if the metal had been white-hot. She had never heard that much urgency in his voice before. He took her by the arm and pulled her back from the car.
“What’s the matter?”
“How high does that lid usually come up?”
“I don’t know, six to eight inches.”
“Stand here.” Vail stepped to the side of the trunk. Kneeling down, he shined his flashlight in the one-inch opening between the lid and the car’s body. “I can’t see in.”
“What’s the matter?” she repeated.
“Maybe nothing.”
“Yes, there is.”
“I just don’t want to take anything for granted with these guys.”
“You think the trunk could be rigged?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the lid not coming up is just a malfunction.”
“I’ve got that LAPD bomb squad sergeant’s card, the one I met after the tunnel drop. I could give him a call.”
“First I’d like to be sure.”
“The backseat folds down. You can see into the trunk that way. Just pull on the top of the seat.”
Vail took hold of both her arms firmly. “I know you’re going to want to give me a hard time about this, but I need you to go wait outside the building.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Find out what’s in the trunk.”
“Don’t. Let me call that sergeant.”
“If there’s the slightest chance someone will get hurt, their protocol is to blow everything in place.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Normally nothing, but any evidence that might be in that trunk will be gone, and frankly, I’m out of ideas. Now, please go.”
“Steve, there’s nothing I want more right now than to turn around and sprint out of here, but if you’re going to do this, I’m staying.” He still had ahold of her arms and searched her eyes for resolve. “I am staying.”
“You know I’m the one paid to do stupid things.”
She laughed nervously. “Considering the size of your paycheck, that’s only fair.”
“An irrefutable argument.” With her standing outside the rear door he carefully climbed in and knelt on the rear seat. “Ready?”
“Fire in the hole,” she whispered.
Vail frowned at her and then ran his hands along the seam where the top of the seat met the rear ledge. When he couldn’t feel anything that shouldn’t be there, he pulled evenly and the seat back came down smoothly. Carefully he shined the light into the trunk’s interior.
“Anything?” Kate asked. He backed out of the car slowly and took her by the arm, leading her out of the garage. “What’s in there?”
“A lot of gasoline and some other stuff I’m not sure of. It’s set to do something. You’d better call that sergeant.”
They got in their car, and after Kate finished her call she asked, “How did you know about the trunk?”
“It just didn’t make any sense. Why leave a stolen car at his known address, and at the same time clean it of all evidence? Suddenly it occurred to me that Radek was using it as a warning device. If we got onto him, his driver’s license address would be the first place we’d look. But he wouldn’t know unless something newsworthy happened like an explosion or fire or whatever those things in the trunk are supposed to cause. Then when the lid didn’t come all the way up, it seemed like too big a coincidence.”
Vail turned on the Bureau radio. The traffic slowly volleyed back and forth between the various units executing the Pendaran search warrants. It sounded as though the assistant director and the SAC were both at Pendaran’s apartment. And judging by the casual, amused voices of the agents, it was going well. Then the SAC’s voice burst loudly across the air. “Central, call the United States attorney and let him know that we have located a gym bag filled with banded hundred-dollar bills. And they have punctures in them. We’re checking the numbers now. Tell him we’d like authorization to arrest the subject.”
Kate checked Vail for a reaction. There was none. “Could Pendaran be involved?”
“Funny how only the punctured money keeps showing up. I don’t know how much there is, but I know you can’t get two million dollars in a gym bag.”
“I guess that’s my reward for hanging around with you. They get the money, and we get the bomb,” Kate said.
Vail smiled at her. “Am I a good time or what?”
SERGEANT MIKE HENNING of the Los Angeles police bomb squad lifted off his helmet, wiping his hand across his sweating forehead. Like so many people in L.A., he seemed almost too attractive for his job, as if he were an actor shooting a movie. With his dark, waxy hair combed straight back and his thin, sculpted mustache, he could have been a figure in an art deco poster from the thirties. “It’s shut down,” he said to Kate and Vail.
“Then it was a bomb,” she said.
He peeled back the Velcro straps that fastened his protective suit. “Well, it’s a device. But there’s no explosive. It’s more of a flamethrower than a bomb. I’ve never seen anything like it. Whoever built it wanted somebody dead, and in a fashion that would have made a very loud statement. If you had yanked the trunk open—barring a malfunction—you’d have been incinerated. Come on, I’ll show you.”
The trunk lid was now fully open. Henning wiped his forehead again. “A flamethrower is made up of a fuel supply, a compressed-gas source, and a striker, all contained in a delivery system.” He pointed into the trunk. “This is absolutely deadly. Not just regular deadly, agonizing deadly. Somebody doesn’t like law enforcement.” Henning looked at Vail. “I assume this was done by your friends from the tunnel.”
“Because of similar construction?”
“Because of its deadliness. Whoever put it together had his heart set on killing human beings, but not until they’d suffered a great deal of pain. I’d love to set this off to show you just how serious these people are, but that would make a mess.” He leaned over the trunk. “What makes it so ingenious is that the trunk is the delivery system. And it’s completely disposable. One use only. As a side benefit it destroys all trace evidence at the same time it’s inflicting casualties.”
“Exactly how was it supposed to work?” Kate asked.
“See the liquid bladder lying on the bed on the trunk? It looks like about a ten-gallon bag. Made of some sort of polymer. They’re commonly used as extra fuel cells, usually on boats. They’re durable, puncture-resistant, and fit anywhere. But see these?” Henning pointed to six evenly spaced plastic plugs along the back end of the bladder closest to the trunk opening. “Those were cut into the bag by your friends. They then epoxied those blowout plugs and their seatings into it. At the moment, there’s a minimum of pressure on them from the gasoline, so they will stay firmly in place, preventing the gasoline from escaping. Now take a look at the other side of the bladder. The hole with the metal plate reinforcing it, that’s how you fill the bag up with gasoline. Only, after filling it, they used the coupling to attach that compressed-air cylinder bolted down behind it. And as you can see, the cylinder has a quick-release nozzle and handle. The wire that connected the trunk lid to the quick-release handle was just long enough so when you got the lid half open, all the compressed air was released at once. It’s driven through the bladder, blowing out the six plugs and shooting the gasoline straight up into the trunk lid. The curve of the lid would channel it out through the back, deluging whoever was standing directly behind the car.”
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