by S. J. Braden
“It’s the Peabody Hotel. They have a tradition of these trained ducks that come down in the elevator every day and march to a fountain in the center of the lobby. All day they swim in the fountain. Then in the evening they do the reverse. They march single file from the fountain to the elevator and then ride to the rooftop where they have this incredible duck condo. It’s called the Duck Palace.”
“And I guess this has been going on since 1933 from the clue.”
“Yep. If you can believe it, people go to watch the ducks on their walk. Colleen and I stayed at the Peabody the first two weeks we were in Memphis while we looked for a house.”
As Court merged onto I-240 he told Trent, “You know we’re really screwed now.”
“Besides the obvious, why is that?”
“Because there’s a bomb in a freaking high rise historical hotel in downtown Memphis. First order of business should be to evacuate, but we can’t. Only the police can order an evacuation and we can’t involve them. We also have to find the damn thing without alerting the staff or anyone else. I suspect, I know where it is, but getting access and finding it is going to be tricky. I don’t know how much time we have. I didn’t have enough time to even get to The Mari, let alone defuse the bomb before it exploded.”
“I suppose we need a plan. I can cause a distraction if that will help.”
“No, that won’t help. The biggest problem is I believe the bomb is on the roof. There is limited access to the roof because of the ducks. The rooftop level has the Skyway lounge which is only used for special events. Things like proms and corporate parties. It isn’t open all the time. There is a rooftop terrace that is also used for special parties and events. If there isn’t an event going on, the rooftop isn’t accessible. There’s no way I can get Jake up there to locate the bomb, I’m going to have to do it manually. We’ll have to take the elevator to the highest floor and try to find stairs to the roof. I sure wish I had a diagram of the hotel.”
Trent was accessing the Internet from his phone and searching for information. It didn’t take him long to inform Court, “I was hoping to find a floor plan that would show if there are accessible stairs but I can’t find a floor plan at all. Maybe we’ll get lucky. Maybe there will be a rooftop party we can crash. What do you need out of the truck, I can help you carry when we get there?”
As Court navigated the one way streets downtown and accessed the Peabody parking area, he replied, “A private party on a Wednesday morning is improbable, except that Memphis in May is starting and there is weird stuff happening everywhere. There are two black bags in the back, we can each take one. Fortunately, they look like travel bags so we won’t call too much attention going through the lobby and elevator.”
Chapter 14
As they stood waiting for an elevator, Court scanned the area and the guests looking for anything suspicious. The lobby of the Peabody is a large open room with many seating areas, a piano bar and in the center of the room is a massive fountain where the famous Peabody ducks swim during the daytime hours. Around the outer edges there are a variety of specialty shops selling designer clothing, custom jewelry and souvenirs and trinkets of a much higher quality than what could be found at any of the local attractions. Therefore, the lobby was always busy and Court tried to take in both the people sitting and the ones walking through. Trent read the sign next to the elevator and elbowed Court. “Hey buddy, look we’re in luck. You were right, there is a rooftop party today. All we have to do is punch S for the floor and we are where we need to be. Then we just have to find the bomb.”
“Yeah as if that’s going to be easy. And be careful throwing that B word around, okay?”
Getting to the rooftop was just as easy as Trent’s instructions from the sign. What awaited them was a nightmare. As they stepped off the elevator and made their way to the rooftop party, they discreetly carried their bags and conversed as normally as possible to keep from attracting unwanted attention. Trent took in the jewel toned carpeting, crystal chandeliers and opulent 1930’s art deco decor as they made their way to the door out to the rooftop terrace.
“What exactly is Memphis in May? I figure I should know what it’s about if I’m going into a party,” Trent asked.
“It’s a month long celebration of a featured country. This year’s country is Ireland. There are all types of exhibits specific to the country, an International Music Fest, a World Barbecue Championship contest, and various other activities. It brings in a hundred thousand or so tourists each year, usually from several countries, not just the featured country. It’s a pretty big deal and known throughout the world.”
“That sounds like fun, seems I might have planned my trip just right. After we find Colleen, maybe we can take in some events together.” Trent was not being cold, crass or selfish in his statement, but driving home to Court, positive reinforcement that they would find Colleen and she would be okay. At least he sure hoped so. He was worried but tried not to let Court see that. He knew Court was worried enough for both of them. “Frankie and Pierce will be here in about an hour. If we aren’t done here, they can rent the car and meet up with us.”
“Good, good, we need all the reinforcements we can get.” Court was already focusing on the job at hand when they exited the doors to the rooftop patio party. When Court saw what was on the other side of the door, he stopped dead in his tracks. Surrounding the outer edges of the patio and in rows and rows of tables was a collection of antique to present day Irish toys. Recognition triggered the memory of the toys in the hotel room. He now knew what type of bomb he was dealing with and where to start looking, but wondered if he could find the altered toy in time among the hundreds displayed.
Trent almost ran into the back of Court when he stopped so suddenly. “What is it? Do you see something already?”
“Yes and no. I don’t have a clue where the package is, but now I know what it is and it’s a bad one. The case I was working on with MPD is the same guy and I’ve seen his work before. We call him The Artist. He takes simple items, coats the interior with plastic explosive, then fills them with another explosive and a blasting cap. His hotel room had boxes of toys. I suspect one of these toys is our bomb. But I fear we don’t have much time. I don’t know what kind of trigger mechanism he’s using. The only thing we found in the hotel room was cell phones, so I have to go on that assumption. If that’s the case, our bomber could be walking around this party right now.”
“Let’s try to narrow it down. Didn’t the clue say something about webbed feet? That should narrow things down a bit.”
“Indeed, great memory. Start looking for any kind of duck. If you see anything that looks tampered with, such as cuts where something could be inserted inside let me know. I’m going over by the Duck Palace since the clue also said palace. If you start on the opposite side we can meet in the middle unless one of us finds it.”
Court and Trent set out in opposite directions. Court went immediately toward the large glass enclosed sun room known as the duck palace and started looking. It didn’t take him nearly as long as he feared to find it. On the ground, next to the door into the home of the famous Peabody ducks, was a duck decoy. When Court leaned down to look at it closely he could see the slits in the back of the duck he was sure indicated the trap door to the explosives. He knew the makeup of the bomb would be a combination of Urea Nitrate and C4 plastic. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was defusing it. He pulled the pocket knife out of his pocket and gently lifted the precut flap. Sure enough, the inside of the duck was coated with a thin layer of C4 and the cavity was filled with the Urea Nitrate. He couldn’t see the blasting cap, but the tiny circuit board from the inside of a cell phone was clearly visible on top. At least this was something he knew how to do. Pulling the tools from his bag, he carefully but quickly neutralized the electronic connection to the blasting cap. He looked around and with no one in site, he placed the decoy in his bag. Court pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, called Trent’s number as he
scanned the crowd looking for him. Trent answered and Court said, “I’ve got it, I’m headed to the truck, meet me there.”
Chapter 15
Court drove them to his office, where he had a lab set up. He carried the duck decoy which was in an enclosed special box called a day box in his truck for secure transportation. Trent and Jake followed Court into the lab.
“I can’t decide what to do about this damn thing,” Court said.
“What do you mean, I thought you disarmed it?” Trent asked nervously.
“I did. But the proper thing to do with it now would be to blow it up. If I do that, there is no evidence for the police later to catch this bastard.”
“Why do you blow it up? Isn’t that destruction of evidence?”
“Well in the first place, it’s an explosive. Depending on the stability of the particular explosive, although the mechanism to trigger it is disabled, any number of things like a fire or lightening could still cause it to explode. Second, it’s still an explosive. There’s always a chance it could somehow get into the wrong hands. If you explode it it’s wasted and can’t cause any harm.”
“Are there any other options to keep it safe until we can turn it over for evidence?”
“Yes, I can keep it in the day box. It’s a spark proof, fire resistant box so it shouldn’t explode, but with everything going on, I’m afraid it could get stolen. I don’t know who is behind this, but whoever it is, knows Colleen and knows my expertise. I don’t know if it’s someone after me or her. I don’t know who I can trust.”
“Yeah I don’t guess you can get a safe deposit box big enough for the day box.”
“Wait, I can put it in the safe. The safe is also fireproof. I can take it out of the day box and put it in the safe until we can turn it over to authorities. I would love to take it apart, but I can’t afford to compromise the evidence. Hell, come to think of it, they are going to call it compromised anyway, but I’d rather leave it as intact as possible.”
Court’s phone rang. He answered it on the first ring. The caller was using a mechanical voice alteration device.
“Did you make it in time?”
“Yes I did, what do you want? Where is my wife?” Court’s tone did nothing to disguise his irritation. Trent became alert and listened to the one side of the conversation he could hear. Court noticed Trent listening and turned on the speaker phone so Trent could hear both sides of the conversation.
“I want to continue to play. I like a good treasure hunt, don’t you?”
“It depends on the reward. Do I get your ass on a spit when I’m done?”
“No, but you could possibly get your wife back. You’ll have to work fast.”
“Tell me what I need to do, I’ll get it done. I want proof of life, though. Can I speak to my wife?”
“Not now. I hope you told her everything you want her to know, just in case you don’t get another chance.”
“If I don’t have proof of life, I will turn your little treasure hunt over to the police.”
“Okay, you will get something later. I’m afraid she’s sleeping now. Stay on your toes. If you find the rest of the treasures, I’ll consider giving the bitch back to you. Keep your eyes open for the next clue.”
“How many more?” Court asked, but the call disconnected. There was no one on the other end.
“Dammit!”
“It looks like we got here just in time.” Court and Trent looked up to see Frankie and Pierce standing in the doorway. Distracted by the phone call, they didn’t hear their friends come in.
“Oh crap, I forgot to pick you guys up at the airport!” Trent said.
“No worries, we knew you must be involved in something. We picked up the rental and found the office assuming you would return here sooner or later,” replied Frankie.
Pierce was the private investigator Abby and Trent hired to help with Abby’s ex-husband Cole and Frankie was the U.S. Marshal that worked Lily Grace’s kidnapping case. They considered Trent a close friend as well as Court, having met Court on the anniversary trip to Ecuador.
Each of the men traded greetings with Trent and Court and then Pierce, anxious to get on with the business of finding Colleen said, “Give us the low down. What’s happening, what do we know?”
“This guy and what we found in that hotel room really have me worried.”
“Can you tell us about it?” asked Frankie.
“I shouldn’t, but since you’re helping me and I can’t contact the police, I suppose you need to know.” Court filled in all the details about what they found in the hotel room. “We’re most concerned about the boxes of toys. This guy usually plants his bombs in ordinary objects strategically placed to look normal in their surroundings. All the toys led us to believe he would be targeting areas where there are children. I don’t know how I can locate and disarm a bomb with children all around. The Artist is also a unique bomber in that he uses all different types of components. Most bombers have a particular type of bomb, component, triggers that they use consistently. This guy is all over the map and has at one time or another had bombs attributed to him from every category.”
“I always thought most bomb makers had a signature?” Trent asked.
“They do. Sometimes it’s as subtle as how they twist the wires. The Artist’s signature is loose. His signature is pretty much limited to common objects, interior structure lined with C4 and the cavity filled with a secondary explosive. Switches, triggers, caps vary which makes disarming a challenge in the best of circumstances. With civilians around, it’s much worse. The secondary explosive he is using now has a blast speed of over 8,000 feet per second. While the bomb this morning was small, and the toys left in the hotel room were too, with that kind of blast speed in a populated area there can still be significant bodily damage.” Court explained.
Chapter 16
Court’s phone dinged alerting him of a new text message. The message was from Sargent Billings asking when he would be returning to the precinct to help with the case. Court replied that he was sorry, but had a family emergency that required his presence for the next few days and that as soon as he could get away he would contact him. Court told Trent, Frankie and Pierce about the message as he led them to the company break room. The men all poured a cup of coffee and gathered around the break room table.
“We need to be able to keep up with what the police are doing and finding in that investigation Court. It sure sounds like they are investigating the same guy we need to find. I know you can’t work with them, but we really need to know what they are discovering. Is there anyone involved that would give you information through phone calls, emails or text messages without you having to go to the precinct?” Frankie asked.
“I don’t want to sound paranoid, but do you guys think there’s any way my phone or the house are bugged? How else will the kidnappers know if I involve the police?”
“It’s a possibility but highly unlikely. There may or may not be someone watching you, the office or the house for anyone who looks like law enforcement. Fortunately for us, Frankie looks more like a country music star than a U.S. Marshal. Lucy is here most all the time right? I don’t think anyone would be coming into the house with her here. At least if they tried, I suspect you would find remains.”
“That’s true, but she was on the boat with us all weekend. The security system was on, but she wasn’t here.”
“I think communicating with Billings would be beneficial to us. The kidnapper knowing you are talking or emailing is more Hollywood than reality.”
Court almost didn’t look at his phone when the next text message came in, assuming it was a reply from Billings. It wasn’t. It was a photo of Colleen, the bomb still around her neck. She looked tired, her hair uncharacteristically in a slight disarray, her suit jacket askew but no obvious physical wounds and otherwise okay. Propped on her lap was a newspaper. Court tried to zoom in closely on the photo, and still couldn’t see the date on the paper. His hands began to shake un
controllably, making reading the date on the paper even more impossible. He jogged to his office and pulled up the local newspaper’s website on his computer and compared the photo on the website of the current day’s paper. The headlines were identical. He knew this was most likely all the proof of life he would get today. He really wanted to talk to her. He wanted to hear her voice, tell her he loved her and that he would find her. His fist pounded on the desk causing the Jake the Sniffer water bottle and his nameplate to bounce. He looked up at the three men standing in his office having followed him from the break room and handed his phone with the picture of Collen to Trent. Trent passed the phone to Frankie and then to Pierce.
Court decided Frankie was right. They needed to know what was happening with the police investigation. He called Billings. Pierce and Frankie stepped out of the room to call Sarah Frances and Missy to let them know they arrived and that there was no news about Colleen yet. They decided to omit the details about this morning’s bomb and Pierce asked Sarah Frances to relay a message to Abby that Trent was here and fine and missed her. They all promised to call again whenever they could. The ladies were all worried about Colleen. Especially since they knew her now. Following the trip to Ecuador, they all felt Colleen was a part of the group, she was one of them and she was in danger.
“Sargent Billings, this is Court McAllister.”
“Court, great, is your family situation resolved already?”
“Well, I can’t come in, but I can consult over the phone or through email if that’s helpful to you. What have you got so far?”
Court switched his phone to speaker phone so Trent could hear what Billings had to say.
“Somewhere between bupkis and jack shit. We don’t have much. We’re pretty sure it’s The Artist, but since we haven’t found any of the actual bombs we can’t be a hundred percent certain. Maybe we shut it down before any bombs were made, but that wouldn’t explain all the empty containers and shipping boxes. I suppose it’s possible he combined items and reduced the number of boxes, you know how those darn internet companies are shipping one item in a box. But I’m afraid it’s more likely they just haven’t turned up yet,” Billings explained.
