by Bill Bernico
Jake slapped Matt’s shoulder. “Stand up,” he told Matt. Jake and Stu each grabbed one of Matt’s shoulders and spun him around to face the lieutenant. Both of their eyes opened wide when they recognized each other.
“Matt,” Kevin said. “What the hell are you doing in a place like this?”
“You know this guy?” Jake said to Kevin.
Matt looked at Kevin. “You know these guys?” he said.
Jake and Stu both pulled out their wallets and flipped them open, showing Matt their badges. Matt turned back to Kevin. “What’s going on here Kevin?” Matt said.
“I’ll ask you again, Matt,” Kevin said. “What are you doing in here?”
“I was playing a hunch,” Matt said. “I thought I’d just come down here and start talking up the bombing and see if anyone showed any inordinate interest. This one,” he said, gesturing toward Jake, “seemed awfully interested.”
“He should,” Kevin said. “This is Detective Lance Dillard. The other one is Detective Joe Hammond. I had the same idea and sent them both down here to do just what you were trying to do. If there might have been anyone here talking about it, you certainly scared them off with this little stunt.”
Matt looked at Stu. “You called the lieutenant, didn’t you?” He looked at the two detectives. “You’re not even Jake and Stu? At least I told you my real first name.”
“Regardless,” Kevin said. “You could have at least told me about this little plan of yours so I could have made sure you didn’t mess up my own investigation. Come on, Matt, let’s take a ride.”
“Are you arresting me, Kevin?” Matt said, somewhat surprised.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Matt,” Kevin said. “We’re just going to talk, is all. Come on.” Kevin turned to the two detectives. “You two might as well find another bar to stake out. This one’s all done.”
“What about my car?” Matt said. “It’s parked down the block.”
Kevin turned to the two uniformed officers. “You two can take the patrol car and go back to the station. I’ll catch a ride with Cooper.” The two cops nodded, turned and left the bar. A man who had been sitting on one of the barstools quickly slid off it and followed the two cops out the door. The man staggered and weaved his way down the street and fumbled with his car keys, trying to open the door of a car parked nearby. The two uniformed officers watched with interest as the man eventually opened the car door and slid behind the wheel.
“Is this guy nuts?” one of the cops said to his partner. “He had to see us standing here. We’ll let him pull away from the curb and then follow him.” The man had gone only a block and a half when the two cops turned on their red lights and pulled him over. The cop who had been driving told the man to get out of his car and stand behind it while he looked over the driver’s license.
The two cops put this man through the routine field sobriety test and he passed every one of them. The cops looked at each other with bewilderment. They even made the driver blow into their breathalyzer machine and it came up zero zero. They had no choice but to let him go and send him on his way.
Meanwhile, back at the bar, the supposedly drunk driver’s friends had all sneaked out of the bar and had each gotten into their own cars and had driven away. However, if any of them had been stopped, none of them would have passed any of the tests. They only got away because of their friend—the DD—the designated decoy.
Kevin and Matt also left and walked the block to Matt’s car. Matt drove Kevin back toward the twelfth precinct. Kevin turned to Matt and said, “Matt, I know you want to catch these guys as bad as I do, but you’re gonna get yourself killed if you try to do it on your own. Just wait for me to join you. This is going to take a joint effort by both of us.”
“But like you said, the trail could get cold while you wait for the captain’s replacement to take over for you,” Matt reminded him.
“Not anymore,” Kevin said. “I got the call just before five tonight. They’re sending over a captain from the downtown branch to take over at the twelfth and I’ve got the next two weeks off. We can start tomorrow if you like, but we’ll do this thing together, all right?”
“Sure,” Matt said. “Sorry if I screwed up your stakeout.”
“Forget it,” Kevin said. “Go on home. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow morning at your office.”
The following morning shortly after Matt opened the office, Kevin walked in, dressed as Matt rarely saw him; in his everyday street clothes. Benny, who had been sitting behind his desk, rose, as if to greet a potential client. When he realized it was Kevin Cole, he sat back down, a bit disappointed.
Kevin waved him off. “Relax, Benny, it’s just me.” He turned to Matt. “You ready to head out?”
Matt held up his index finger. “One minute,” he said. “I just need to button up this report from yesterday.” He put the finishing touches on the papers, closed the manila folder and slipped it back into the top drawer of the filing cabinet. “Okay, we can go now,” he said to Kevin before turning to Benny. “I’ll have my cell phone on, but try not to call unless it’s an emergency.”
Benny said nothing, but just touched his index finger to his thumb, making the OK sign before opening the file folder that had been lying on his desk. Matt and Kevin left the office and rode the elevator to the lobby. Kevin turned to Matt. “We can take my car, come on.” They exited the building to the parking lot and slid into Kevin’s Toyota sedan.
“Any idea where we’re going to start?” Matt said.
“I’ve got one lead I want to check out,” Kevin said. Well, kind of a lead. I don’t know if it will get us anything, but I’ve got to check it out nonetheless.”
“And where’s that?”
Kevin pointed to his glove box. “Look in there,” he told Matt.
Matt opened the glove box door and found a small cardboard box. He pulled it out and opened it to find a black chunk of something he didn’t recognize. He looked over at Kevin. “What’s this?”
“That’s what was left of the detonator we found in the wreck of the Suburban,” Kevin explained. “The lab tells me it was made here in L.A. and we’re going to see the manufacturer. They’re over on Logan near Sunset.”
“That would put it in the Echo Park district, wouldn’t it?” Matt said, recognizing the area. “That’s not exactly zoned industrial, is it?”
“They don’t have to be. They don’t make anything with explosive materials in it. They just make the detonators and sell them to the demolition companies, who buy the explosives somewhere else.”
After twenty-five minutes of navigating the streets around Echo Park Lake, Kevin pulled up to the curb on Logan Avenue. Matt grabbed the cardboard box containing the charred remains of something nearly unrecognizable. He and Kevin got out and walked up to the door of Tech Industries. Inside they found a relatively small business housed in a ten thousand square foot facility. A blonde woman at the front desk greeted them as they approached.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” the receptionist said. “How may I help you this morning?”
Kevin produced his shield and I.D. and held them in front of the woman. “Police,” Kevin said in his most professional, no-nonsense voice. “I’d like to see the owner, please.”
“The owner lives in Sarasota, Florida,” the woman said. “I can take you to the plant manager if you like. His name is Henry Bell. Won’t you have a seat while I try to locate him?” She gestured toward a waiting area with chairs and a coffee table with several magazines laid out on it. Matt and Kevin sat waiting while the receptionist picked up her phone and pressed a few buttons. A minute later a man in a blue business suit walked toward them. He looked at Matt.
“My secretary tells me you’re with the police,” Bell said. “Is there a problem?”
Matt hiked a thumb in Kevin’s direction. “He’s with the police.”
Kevin and Matt stood to greet the plant manager. “Mr. Bell,” Kevin said, “My name is Kevin Cole and this is Matt Cooper.�
� Matt handed Kevin the small box. Kevin didn’t open it just yet. He looked at Bell and said, “Is there some place we can talk privately, Mr. Bell?”
Bell looked down at the box and then up at Kevin. “Certainly,” he said. “Come with me.” He led his two guests down a hall and into a door with Bell’s name on it. Bell invited his guests to sit and then took a seat behind his desk. Bell gestured toward the box in Kevin’s hand. “What do you have there?”
Kevin passed the box over to Bell, who promptly opened it and looked down at a blackened mass of metal. “What is it?” Bell said.
“I was hoping you could tell us,” Kevin said.
Bell opened his printer drawer and removed four sheets of copy paper, laying them out on his desk in a square of four sheets. He removed the black lump from the box and laid it out on the copy paper. Bell slid open a desk drawer and withdrew a large magnifying glass, examining the unidentified mass from every angle. He looked up at Kevin. “Is it all right if I scrape on this thing? I need to know if there are any identifying numbers on it.”
“Whatever you have to do,” Kevin said.
Bell pulled open his drawer again and produced a small stainless steel blade that resembled a doctor’s scalpel. With the magnifying glass in his left hand, Bell held the scalpel in his right and proceeded to gently scrape away at a flat surface on the burned mass. He laid the scalpel down, rotated the black mass and laid it on its side. He scraped another area on the underside of the object and took a closer look. After a bit more scraping, Bell turned the object toward Kevin and handed him the magnifying glass. “Take a look,” Bell said. “Right there.” He pointed to the place he had scraped.
Kevin adjusted the distance of the magnifying glass until the area came into clear focus. He could read the letters ‘TI-DD-391’. Kevin looked up at Bell. “What does that tell you?”
Bell gestured with his chin at the device. “That was one of ours,” he said. “It’s the TI-DD-391, or Tech Industries Detonating Device, model 391. It’s generally used in conjunction with C-4, the plastic explosives used by many demolition companies for imploding buildings. Where did you find that?”
“No doubt you read about the car bombing at the twelfth precinct in Hollywood last week?” Kevin said, making a note of the model number in his notebook.
Bell’s mouth dropped open and he shook his head. “Don’t tell me…”
Kevin nodded. “We found this in the wreck of the car that killed three of our officers. I need answers, Mr. Bell. Do you have any idea how something like this could fall into the wrong hands?”
Bell held both palms out. “The sale of these devices is strictly regulated,” he explained to Kevin. “You have to have a demolition license, a license to handle explosives, a license to purchase the detonators and it’s all regulated by the state.”
Kevin thought for a moment before adding, “I’m going to need a list of your customers who buy this device from you, Mr. Bell. And if you can give me the names of the individuals you deal with, that’ll save me a little leg work.”
“Certainly,” Bell said. He tapped his intercom button and said, “Sally, would print out a list of our customers and bring it in?”
“Yes sir, Mr. Bell,” Sally said.
“I’ll have that for you in a minute or two,” Bell said to Kevin.
Matt’s brow furrowed. “Tell me, Mr. Bell, when you ship these devices to your customers, how does the shipment travel? Truck, train, plane, how does it get there? And are all your customers local?”
“Oh, no,” Bell said. “We have customers all over the country and in several countries in Europe and South America as well. We employ all of those methods of shipment. Why?”
“Just curious,” Matt said, not willing to share his intuitions with Bell.
A moment later Sally knocked on Bell’s door and let herself in. She handed three sheets to Bell and excused herself again. Bell briefly looked over the list before handing it over to Kevin. “That’s everyone who buys this model,” Bell said.
Kevin looked over the list and then up at Bell. “Can I keep this list?”
“You may,” Bell said. “I hope you’ll let me know if and when you find out how these devices got into those wrong hands, as you put it. If it was a weak link on our end, we would need to tighten our security measures. If not, we’d at least like to let the customers know so they could put more restrictions on who handles them on their end.”
Kevin and Matt rose from their chairs. Bell boxed up the device again and handed the box to Kevin. Kevin extended his hand and Bell shook it. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Bell. It was nice to meet you.” Matt shook Bell’s hand as well before he and Kevin left the office.
Back in Kevin’s car, Kevin handed the box back to Matt and told him to put it back into the glove box. “What do you think?” Matt said.
“About what?”
“About Bell,” Matt said. “You think he’s telling us everything he knows about this thing?”
“Any reason he wouldn’t?” Kevin said. “He seemed pretty forthcoming to me.”
“I guess it’s just my suspicious nature,” Matt said. “It’s not that I don’t trust him. I just don’t trust anybody these days.”
“I know what you mean,” Kevin said. “As for this list of customers, I think our best bet would be to start with the ones closest to the twelfth precinct and widen our search are from there.”
“Let me have one of those sheets,” Matt said.
Kevin handed the second page of customer names to Matt and then began looking over the first page. A few seconds later Matt pointed to one customer on his page and said, “Here’s one downtown.”
Kevin kept scanning his page and then added, “Got one on Highland and Waring. Keep looking.”
Matt scanned the rest of his page but found no other customer closer than the one Kevin found. He held his hand out and Kevin gave him the third sheet, which only had one additional customer listed. None were closer. Matt laid his sheets down on the seat and waited for Kevin to finish scanning the first page. Kevin got to the bottom and laid the sheet on top of the other two before announcing, “Looks like we’re starting with the one on Highland and Waring.” He started the car and drove away.
The building on Highland was an unassuming structure that didn’t look anything like what Matt had imagined it to look like. He thought surely a place that dealt with explosives would not have been located in this particular area. He turned to Kevin. “You sure you got the right address?” he said. “This just looks like a residence.”
Kevin glanced at the sheet again and compared the printed address with the numbers on the house he was looking at. “This is the place,” he said. “Let’s go see what’s going on in there.” As they got closer to the front door, Kevin could make out a small professionally painted sign that identified this building as the home of someplace called Taggert, Inc. Kevin paused momentarily at the sign and then continued up the walk. He let himself in and found a reception desk just inside the door. There was no one at the desk, but there was a small bell on the desk. It was like the bell on the counter at most motels. Kevin tapped the bell twice and waited. A moment later a man came out of a back room and walked up to where Kevin and Matt stood.
“Is this Taggert, Inc.?” Kevin said.
“That it is,” the man said. “My name is Calvin Taggert. What can I do for you gentlemen?”
Kevin produced his badge and I.D. “Police,” he said. “I want to make sure I have the right business. Are you a customer of Tech Industries on Logan Avenue in Echo Park?”
The man didn’t have to think about the question at all. “They are one of our vendors,” he said. “What is this in regard to?”
Kevin pulled out his notebook. “Did you purchase the model TI-DD-391 from them recently?”
“We purchased several dozen of that model,” Taggert said.
“And are you in the demolitions business?” Kevin asked.
Taggert shook his head. �
��No, nothing that exciting, I’m afraid. We are nothing more than wholesalers. We buy wholesale from Tech Industries and sell retail to the demolition companies in the area. Now would you tell me what this is all about?”
“Just routine,” Kevin said.
Matt looked at Taggert and asked, “When you sell this product to your end user, how does it ship?”
Taggert thought for a moment and offered, “Since all our customers are in this area, everything goes by truck or van, if it’s a smaller order.”
“How many employees do you have here, Mr. Taggert?” Matt said.
“We’re a small, low overhead business,” Taggert said. “There are just four of us working here including myself.”
“And how many of those four do deliveries?” Matt said.
“Just three,” Taggert said. “I stay here and run the business. The other three take turns delivering the products to our customers.”
“Are they all here now?” Kevin said.
Taggert picked up a clipboard off the reception desk and flipped the top sheet over. He ran a finger down the list and looked back up at Kevin. “Two of them are out making deliveries and the third one is in the back putting a shipment together for tomorrow’s delivery.”
“Could I speak to him?” Kevin said.
“Would you follow me, gentlemen?” Taggert said and led the two men down a hallway to a door that opened into a large room in the back. Kevin and Matt could see several pallets stacked with cardboard boxes. A man stood over one of the pallets and appeared to be affixing a shipping label onto the plastic wrap that engulfed the stack of boxes.
