Wake Me When It's Over

by Cheryl A Head

  Heinrich’s townhouse was decorated in a contemporary style, much like his office. The first time she’d visited, they’d had a casual breakfast at his kitchen counter. But this time, he beckoned Mandy into his sleekly furnished dining room, where he offered white wine sheathed in a monogrammed stainless steel cooler. A two-tiered tray of hors d’oeuvres sat on the glass table.

  “Wow, I guess I didn’t dress for the occasion,” Mandy said.

  “Food and drink should always be a special event,” Heinrich said, bringing in two long-stemmed glasses. “These are chilled to forty degrees.”

  “How did a security guy get to know so much about fine dining and fashion?”

  “I’ve not always been able to indulge my tastes in the finer things of life, but now I do at every opportunity.”

  “I can’t imagine you as poor.”

  “I was never poor. My family, my parents, were academics. They worked hard to make sure I had an exemplary education. But they were never particularly, uh, interesting. At school I mingled with the sons of Europe’s elites. That’s where I got my introduction to life’s pleasures.”

  Heinrich leaned closely over Mandy as he poured the wine. His cologne had the musky scent of nutmeg and brandy, and his umber cashmere jacket brushed against her shoulder. He emanated the power of a dangerous, albeit elegant, predator. Heinrich sat in the white leather chair across from hers, and Mandy relaxed her back, letting her spine feel the weight of her holstered police special. She reached into her tote and pulled out a file folder.

  “I have the notes and recommendations from the Secret Service. You’ve probably already seen them,” Mandy said.

  “Yes.”

  “I thought it would be useful to coordinate our efforts to meet the recommendations.”

  “I agree. Why didn’t Ms. Mack join us?”

  “She’s been detained on another matter that requires her attention.”

  Heinrich’s smile was almost indiscernible. But Mandy saw it before he covered his lips with a tilt of his wineglass. Mandy took a sip of wine and studied the bite-size delicacies on the tray.

  “Please. Try some. I made them myself. Simple appetizers, really. Ceviche, some dates in orange zest, and foie gras.”

  Mandy laughed. “You make your own foie gras?”

  “Cooking is only one of the ways I choose to express myself.”

  Mandy started with the lime-cooked red snapper, chewing slowly and then giving her top lip a quick flick of her tongue. Heinrich liked watching women eat, and he’d noticed Mandy’s habit of licking her lips when they shared breakfast. Next, she bit into the goose liver on toast, her eyes closed for a second in appreciation. Heinrich felt himself stir.

  “These are really tasty.”

  Mandy slid a typewritten paper across the table. Heinrich glanced down at it, but didn’t pick it up. Finally, he reached into his jacket and pulled a Montblanc ink pen from its recesses. He unscrewed the cap and drew the page toward him with the tips of his fingers. He checked a few items on the list and pushed it back to her. He recapped the pen and returned it to his inner pocket.

  “Those things are being handled by Spectrum,” Heinrich said matter-of-factly.

  “Fine. We’ll take on the other items,” Mandy said, checking the list. “We’ve doubled our security on the Chinese automaker. Their company executives are coming in tomorrow. So far, their work seems to be business as usual, but we’ve also put a guard at their hotel.”

  “That seems prudent. I’ve worked closely with Mr. Kwong and his bosses. They’re up to something, but I can’t imagine it’s anything violent. Kwong is such an obsequious man. Whatever they’re up to, I’m sure it troubles the Detroit auto dealers. That’s why I’ve put up with their meddling.”

  “Including us?”

  “Well, I have to admit, your team has been more competent than I gave you credit for. The food and wine are sort of a peace offering. So I hope you’ll put the paperwork aside and enjoy what I’ve prepared.”

  Mandy didn’t hear Heinrich’s phone ring, but it must have vibrated because he looked annoyed as he reached into his pocket for the instrument. He looked at the number and rose from his seat.

  “Excuse me. I have to take this call. Please, enjoy the hors d’oeuvres.”

  Heinrich answered with a “hold on,” then disappeared into his den. His face was pinched in irritation as he closed the sliding doors to the dining room. Mandy waited only a couple of seconds before bouncing to her feet. She headed to the kitchen and dumped her wine into the sink. She’d heard the sound of the garage door opening shortly after she’d arrived, and wondered if someone else was in the house. She peeked into the window, then heard Heinrich’s muffled voice rise in anger, and his footsteps, so she quickly stepped back into the dining room. She was standing at the table, examining the appetizers, when the sliding door opened. Heinrich gave her a quizzical look.

  “I hope you don’t mind. I was about to pour myself another glass of wine,” Mandy said, smiling and feigning a slight buzz.

  Heinrich’s sophistication didn’t include the talent of distancing his emotions from his face. The irritation of being disturbed by the call was quickly eclipsed by lust, and he moved to stand very close to Mandy. She deftly moved back to her seat, leaving him to pour the wine.

  “You’re afraid of me,” he said, handing her the glass

  “We’ve been through this before,” Mandy replied.

  “Why did you ask to meet me?”

  “Charlie and Don aren’t your biggest fans. But I can tell you’re a professional, and it doesn’t make sense for our teams to be adversaries.”

  Heinrich hovered over Mandy. Anticipating. His scent now the fragrance of smoldering ash. He noted the contrast between the pale skin of her forehead and red hair, and the way her shoulder-length locks brushed the fabric of her black turtleneck. He returned to his chair and poured himself more wine.

  “How long have you known Ms. Mack? Have you worked with her before?”

  “Don’t you already know the answers to those questions?”

  Heinrich smiled. “Well, as you say, I am a professional. I know you’re a police officer. So how is it you’ve come to work with private investigators?”

  “Charlie is a friend.”

  “A friend?”

  “Yes. And colleague.”

  “Not a lover?”

  “Where’d you hear that?”

  “Word gets around.” Heinrich took on a smug look. “You two, uh, don’t seem the type.”

  “What type is that, Mr. Heinrich?”

  “I didn’t mean any insult. It’s just that my idea of American lesbians is a bit more corduroy than cashmere.”

  “I’d think an erudite man like you wouldn’t be so narrowminded.” Mandy reached for her tote. Now, she really was beginning to feel the effects of the wine. “I’m leaving.”

  “As you wish. I didn’t mean to drive you away with my questions. Too personal, perhaps?”

  “Perhaps.”

  Heinrich walked into the den, returning with Mandy’s coat and scarf. He assisted her with her jacket, and Mandy stuffed the scarf in her tote.

  “Speaking of erudite, I thought I understood your inference when you called saying you wanted to meet at my home. I was very clear with you last time about what I want.”

  Mandy paused in the doorway. She’d thought of a half-dozen ploys to extricate herself from tonight’s one-on-one. Fortunately, Heinrich’s smugness and insults had made it an easy proposition.

  “I guess I’m just not as sophisticated as either of us thought. Thanks for your time and cooperation.”

  Mandy walked carefully on the slick walkway to Charlie’s Corvette. The engine fired up right away, and she backed out of the driveway and away from the house. She saw the light glowing through the small window on the side of the garage. She was pretty sure the man she’d seen was Lin’s assailant, Dudiyn. He seemed to be doing some wiring, she was almost certain she’d seen the hot
tip of a soldering iron.

  At 9 p.m., the Mack Partners, Mandy, and Cynthia Fitzgerald were around the table. In an hour, an all-hands-on-deck search would begin of any location where the general public would have access. Twenty Cobo facilities staff would participate in the search while Spectrum staff would monitor all cameras as usual, keep an eye on the overnight construction work at the Jeep display, and guard the areas controlled by Guí Motors.

  Mandy had returned to Cobo with a slight headache. She described Heinrich’s maneuvers with appetizers and white wine, and reported on Dudiyn’s presence in the garage.

  “That sounds like him, all right,” Cynthia said.

  “Did you see any other vehicles?” Gil asked.

  “No. Just Heinrich’s Saab.”

  “You couldn’t tell what Dudiyn was doing?” Don asked.

  “No. Like I said, I thought I saw a soldering iron on a stand. He had on some kind of glasses and was sitting at a workbench.”

  “Could be making bombs,” Gil stated.

  “Damn. Why can’t we get a search warrant and go see for ourselves?” Don asked.

  “It might be a good idea to check in with Tony tonight,” Charlie said. “Maybe DHS will tell us what’s going on at the house. But first I’ve got one more piece of business. Gil thinks some of us might need to pull back from the case.”

  “Pull back?” Judy asked.

  “Yes. Because of the danger,” Gil said. “Judy, I thought you might want to move back to the office. The only fieldwork left to do is tonight’s search. After that, we wait and watch.”

  “I can help watch.”

  “That’s not a bad idea, Acosta,” Don agreed.

  “Wait a minute; regular deliveries will be coming to Cobo tomorrow, and there’s still the communications to monitor,” Judy argued.

  Charlie observed the dynamics. Judy looked hurt. But things were getting too hot to keep the civilians around. In the waiting and watching game, it was good to have as many eyes and ears as possible, but it wasn’t fair to ask people to face risks they weren’t getting paid to take.

  “What do you think, Cynthia?” Charlie asked.

  Cynthia had been studying the room, too. She’d spent almost a year keeping an eye on Heinrich and assessing the danger to Cobo. She knew he was close to acting; that’s why she’d flagged the situation for Scott two weeks ago. Chenglei’s murder had been the final warning for her.

  “I think Judy should go home. I think we should warn Tyson and the department heads. And if it were up to me, I’d close the show.”

  Tony’s information on Heinrich’s house had come from the secret eyewitness, who he still wouldn’t identify as Kwong. When Charlie called him, Tony reported a white van coming and going from the house for over a week. And the man they knew as Dudiyn had been walking around the neighborhood and entering the home and garage at all hours.

  “Are they assembling bombs?”

  “No one’s been able to get inside the garage to confirm if explosives are being assembled there.”

  “Cynthia saw phones and phony bleach bottles filled with some silver powder in the weapons garage. Dudiyn took those things away.”

  “Those could very well be bomb components,” Tony said. “I’ll check that out. There’s also been another kind of activity going on at Heinrich’s house. I’ve seen a tape of various women visiting. One of the women was your friend, Mandy.”

  “I know. We sent her in, to see what she could find out from Heinrich.”

  “How did that work?”

  “It didn’t.”

  “So how long have the two of you been seeing each other?”

  “For a while.”

  “That’s why there’s no interest in fanning old flames?”

  “I’m only looking forward, Tony. Only forward.”

  “Is that all you’re saying?”

  “No. Thanks for the information. Bye.”

  The search on level one was the easiest. Half of the ground level was parking, which was regularly patrolled by Cobo security. There was a stage area and exhibit space in the Michigan Hall rooms, but the rest of level one was taken up by Spectrum offices, back-of-house storage, a TV studio, and the loading dock area. Those areas were unavailable to the general public during the auto show, with the exception of the broadcast operation, which would get a lot of use during the upcoming three-day press preview.

  Gil’s search partner was the junior DHS agent. They hopped out of their golf cart and pressed the buzzer at the door of the TV facility. The chief engineer, a no-nonsense guy who had built the operation from scratch, knew everything about the space.

  “During the press preview days, I have more than a hun-dred confirmed bookings for shoot/edit/satellite packages; we’re working around the clock. A half hour of time costs two thousand dollars, so I’m dealing only with local network affiliates, the international media, and the major print publications, not the guy who writes a newsletter about cars. The broadcast and cable networks bring their own production trucks to the show.”

  “What do you get for two grand?” Gil asked.

  “An editor, a single-camera shoot, studio space if you want it, and uplink time on our satellite. Most people are doing five-minute segments for their newscast or website. A lot of it is on tape, but some are doing live shots.”

  Gil and the agent searched a half-dozen edit rooms, two black-box studios, and a prop room, and did a thorough sweep under desks and chairs. Finally, they examined the master control room.

  “You have an impressive amount of equipment,” Gil said.

  “Our equipment costs are hundreds of thousands of dollars a year, and it’s all under lock and key,” the chief said, patting his jeans pocket, “and I’m the one with the key.”

  Gil and the agent returned to their transportation. It was almost midnight. “He’s got a close eye on the TV facility. I doubt anyone will bring something in he doesn’t see,” Gil said.

  “We need more people like him. Where to next?”

  “Michigan Hall, but there’s a lot to cover, I counted almost thirty racing cars in there. We didn’t really talk about how we would inspect the cars. Let’s check in with Charlie.”

  “Yes, Gil?” Charlie shouted into the two-way radio.

  “How are we handling the vehicle searches? We have two dozen or so on display in Michigan Hall.”

  “We were just talking about the cars. Come on up to level two. Let’s figure it out.”

  Chapter 10

  Saturday, January 7, 2006

  Auto Show: 1 Day

  The two-person search teams on level two were following a concentric-circles pattern, working their way into the center of each floor. They were checking window ledges, balconies, entrances and exits, alcoves, public restrooms, vendor spaces, seating areas, the information booths, ticket kiosks, and coat-check rooms. Next, they’d moved inward to search hallways, vertical transportation— the engineering name for elevators and escalators— and benches and planters. They’d been at it for two hours, using rubber gloves to reach into corners, under surfaces, and inside holes and crevices. On the second-level concourse, the search teams circled their golf carts in what looked like the defensive tactic of a 19th-century wagon train against an Indian assault. In the center were the Mack partners.

  “I’ve got a motorsports setup downstairs. There are a bunch of racing cars, NASCAR simulators, and several other exhibitors,” Gil said.

  “We should be looking under each vehicle,” Don noted.

  “We better save that for the bomb sweep,” Charlie said. “ATF will be bringing in dogs tonight, and that’s when they’ll check the interiors of the vehicles. We’ll make sure they also use the undercarriage inspection mirrors. For now, let’s just focus on things like mirrors, locks, the windshield, and bumpers.”

  “One thing we should be looking for are transmitters,” senior agent Mann said. “They can be used to trigger an explosion. They can be very tiny; some are magnetized and can be eas
ily attached to a vehicle.”

  “Did everyone hear that?”

  Heads nodded.

  “We’ll need some cotton gloves,” Mann said. “Gliding your hand along the surface of the vehicle is the best way to find any bugs. Rubber gloves are going to stick.”

  “Can we get the gloves we need?” Charlie asked the janitorial staff honcho who Ty had described as the best supervisor in the building.”

  “No problem,” she responded.

  “Sounds like the showroom search could take three or four hours,” Don noted. “Maybe we should do that now and save the perimeter checks on the top levels for last.”

  “Okay, we’ll do it that way,” Charlie agreed. “Does anybody need food yet?” Charlie looked at Don.

  “I could use some coffee,” Gil said.

  “And maybe some sandwiches,” Don added.

  At 4 a.m., the search of the vehicles in all the exhibit, concourse and showroom spaces was completed. The gloved inspections had worked perfectly, and soon the teams had the car exterior searches down to ten minutes, a bit longer for the SUVs and trucks. Nothing out of the ordinary had been discovered by the searchers, and with thanks Charlie had released the janitorial staff to resume their other duties.

  The Mack team came together again before tackling the upper level perimeter searches, including the People Mover station and the rooftop parking area.

  “I think we can divide up again on the top levels,” Charlie announced, looking at the floor plan. “We’ll have an inside group and an outside group. Four teams will check the rooftop parking and search the People Mover areas. The interior teams will search the meeting rooms on levels three and four. You’ll likely finish first, and you should go back to the hotel and get a few hours of sleep when you’re done. I’m volunteering me, Gil, Don, and Hoyt for outside duty. Do I have four more volunteers?” Everyone raised their hand, and Charlie smiled. “Okay, I appreciate your diligence. Don, I’ll ride with you. The rest of you figure it out among yourselves. We’ll head up top in fifteen minutes; those of us going outside will need coats. It’s snowing again.”