The Bomb Maker

by Thomas Perry

  She studied the crowd. There were a couple of attractive women about forty years old in full formal mourning black. They were probably ex-wives. That was another side of Carmody. When she was promoted to the Bomb Squad and had returned from training, Carmody had paid a lot of attention to her for a few days. He had asked her to an Italian restaurant that was an old landmark. When she made inquiries about him she learned he was married.

  She looked at the two women and wondered if the wife at that time was one of them, or someone else who wasn’t here. At least Diane didn’t have to feel guilty today. She had turned him down. She tried to figure out which one was the earlier wife, the one Carmody had cheated on with the other. They both seemed to be about the same age, so she gave up. They looked as though they had made their peace some time ago, because otherwise there was no reason to sit together. There had been at least one more wife who didn’t seem to be present.

  The leader of the firing party shouted his order and the eight men stiffened, snapped their rifles to their shoulders, raised them at once, and fired. The air was still, and she watched a cloud of smoke drift away over their heads. Then there was the second volley, then the third.

  She caught Dick Stahl looking at her from the corner of his eye. She knew he was thinking about how close she had come to being the one in a box. She pretended she hadn’t seen, and focused instead on the dead man. She mentally said good-bye to Carmody. It was like waving to a friendly acquaintance as he walked away for the last time. She had given enough thought to his failings. They were erased now.

  The chief, the priest of Carmody’s church, and one of his teammates said the words that people filling their roles always had to say—competing value systems expressed by people who didn’t seem to notice the contradictions between them.

  The firing party, the color guard, and the pallbearers marched through the cordon of uniformed police officers, and then the members of the LAPD, sheriff’s department, and highway patrol, and all the nearby police forces moved off too. The woman left sitting near the grave with a couple of others had the folded flag from the coffin on her lap. She seemed to be Carmody’s mother. A woman who was probably a sister had her arm around her.

  Hines took a step and felt Dick’s big hand close on her arm so he could keep her from falling. “I’m fine,” she whispered. “Don’t touch in public.” She wasn’t tottering on high heels. She was wearing a police uniform and sturdy, spit-shined shoes with wide soles.

  He realized she was right, so he moved his hand quickly enough to disguise the touch as an accidental brush in a crowd. They didn’t seem to have drawn attention. They began to walk toward the remaining group of Bomb Squad members at the edge of the row where they had been seated.

  When the two reached the group, the squad members surrounded Stahl to shake his hand and enveloped Hines in gentle hugs.

  They all said they were sorry about Carmody and would miss him. Then Stahl, Hines, and the others began to walk toward their cars.

  As they passed near the low dais where the high-ranking police officials and civilian dignitaries had sat, Deputy Chief Ogden separated himself from the others and caught Stahl and Hines.

  “Hello,” he said to them. He patted Hines’s shoulder, a gesture that seemed to her to be prompted by the inherent maleness of the police uniform they both wore. “Sergeant Hines, you’re looking well. Are you feeling better?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said. “Thank you for asking.”

  He shook Stahl’s hand. “Dick,” he said, “I’ve been watching for you.” He glanced at Diane again. “Sergeant, would you mind if I borrowed him for just a few moments?”

  “Of course not, sir. I see a couple of bomb techs over there that I missed.” She stepped off toward Elliot, who had just turned away from the grave.

  Stahl walked with Ogden. “What’s up, Dave?”

  “There’s no reason for you to come with me. It’s just me asking a friend for another favor.”

  “What’s the favor?” Stahl asked.

  “That black limo over there idling in the drive is the mayor’s.”

  “It looks a lot like the hearse.”

  “Your lips to God’s ear. Will you talk to him?”

  Stahl slowed down for a moment, then stopped. “I don’t see much point in that.”

  “I said it was a favor.” Ogden said. “If it was something you’d do anyway, it wouldn’t be a favor.”

  Stahl nodded. “All right.”

  Ogden conducted Stahl to the side of the road and up to the rear door of the limousine. He opened the door so Stahl had to duck inside, and then followed him in. Two rows of seats faced each other in the black interior. On one side sat the police chief and the mayor. On the other were Ogden and Stahl.

  Stahl said, “Hello, Chief. Mr. Mayor.”

  “Good to see you, Dick.” The chief smiled and spoke to Stahl, but the mayor was silent. The chief went on. “I hope you’re well.”

  “I’m fine,” he said. “I just wish Carmody and the others were.”

  The mayor seemed to feel insulted, and he sighed impatiently. “I have to tell you, Mr. Stahl, that the chief talked me into waiting around to hear what you have to say. I wasn’t eager.”

  “I wasn’t either,” said Stahl. “And I’m not sure what you’ve waited to hear me say.”

  “I’m here because I’ve been told repeatedly by these gentlemen that you have incontrovertible alibis and other evidence to prove you couldn’t have had any fault in anything that’s happened. After some discussion I agreed to accept that.”

  “Sir—” Ogden said.

  The mayor said, “Let me talk. I’ve been told repeatedly that there are only two men who understand those bombs—you, and the bomber. And now that you’ve got free time, the pace seems to have accelerated.”

  “Interesting observation,” said Stahl. “I have a business that keeps me busy most of the time, and I’ve had to ignore it for a while. Now I’m catching up with the work.”

  The chief said, “Mr. Mayor, we asked you to meet Mr. Stahl because we’re desperate. We just buried an experienced and very competent bomb team supervisor, and there are two bomb technicians who will be hospitalized for a long time, and may never be able to serve again. It’s our considered judgment that Mr. Stahl is our best chance to defeat this bomber, and to ensure we don’t lose anyone else before then. The city is in terrible danger as long as the bomber is at work.”

  The mayor smirked. “What do you think, Mr. Stahl? Are you the only one who can save us?”

  “No,” said Stahl. “Nobody is the only one.”

  “But you think you’re one of the few who can.”

  “It’s a question of doing your best to outlive a bomber. You try to avoid the traps he sets, and to destroy the substances that power them without making a mistake and getting killed. The longer you do that, the more likely he’ll make the first mistake with the explosives, or he’ll be seen, identified, and arrested.”

  “Are you saying these men would be alive if you had still been there to supervise them?”

  “I would have ordered them to take fewer chances.”

  The mayor looked triumphant. “You do think so, don’t you?”

  Stahl stared into the mayor’s eyes. “I do.”

  The chief said, “Sir, maybe this isn’t the—”

  “And you think it’s my fault.”

  Stahl said, “I managed to get myself in trouble by breaking a police regulation. I did that by myself. I’m willing to help with the bombings, and I’ll do it free.”

  The chief said, “Mr. Mayor, we have an assurance from the police commission that they’ll approve an agreement to have Mr. Stahl work with us as a civilian consultant.”

  “You know I’m aware of that idea,” said the mayor. “I can’t appear to be providing a way for city employees to get around rules, and especially laws. The appearance of wrongdoing is as bad as wrongdoing.”

  “With respect, I don’t think it is,” said the
chief. “Having him with us is almost sure to save the lives of police officers and civilians.”

  The mayor said, “I didn’t mean as bad for you. I meant as bad for good government and the future of the city. I’m an elected official, and any future opponent would bring this up for the next thirty years. I’ve listened. Now I’ve got to get back to city hall and do my job.”

  Stahl got out, and so did the chief and deputy chief. The black limousine drove off toward the road that led down the hill to Forest Lawn Drive and the 101 Freeway.

  The chief said, “Damn.”

  “Sorry, Dick,” said Ogden. “Thanks for giving it a try with us.”

  The chief shook Stahl’s hand. “Something may work out yet. I’d really appreciate it if you wouldn’t leave town on some long business assignment without telling us.”

  “I won’t,” he said. He turned and walked back along the row of graves to the spot where Hines was talking to Elliot and a few others. When he got there, he could see the others were watching him for some hint of what had gone on in the mayor’s limousine. He said to Hines, “Ready?”

  “Sure.”

  Before they left, he said, “Take care of each other, guys. Use Andros and explode any devices from a distance. Stay alive.”

  As they walked to the place where Stahl had parked his car, the sun was almost below the hills to the west, and the sky was reaching its most fiery red-orange. Hines looked back toward the section they had just left, and she could see the cemetery crew pushing the dirt into the grave.

  42

  On the drive away from the cemetery they didn’t speak much. Stahl drove west, but instead of turning south toward the west side where they lived, he took Barham to Ventura Boulevard into Studio City. He turned into the plaza just before Laurel Canyon and parked. The sky was dark now, the deep indigo that lingered in the west during early evening in the Valley. She looked up at him. “Du-Par’s?”

  He shrugged. “Funerals make me feel hungry. I think it’s probably the body trying to fight back, to be alive.”

  They walked in the front door. Anyone who stepped through the glass doors could see the place had a long history. Its fiftieth anniversary cups were now almost antiques. There were old photographs framed and hanging on the wall that proved the layout had reached approximately its current configuration sometime in the 1950s, and the more recent remodeling had only added a half room that looked like the other one. The simplicity of the diner hid the fact that deals to launch big-budget movies had been make over breakfast at the big table in the back, and it was still an easy place to spot stars. Du-Par’s was always open.

  Hines stepped in ahead of Stahl and picked a booth. “I’ve been here on three Thanksgivings. All the older cops got the dinner hours off on big holidays. My partner and I had turkey here.”

  Stahl said, “I used to come here when I was assigned to North Hollywood too. I don’t think I was ever here on Thanksgiving. It didn’t matter when I was here, though. I always ordered pancakes.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Those are good. Are you going to order some now?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Think about it,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “I’m pretty sure you’ll give me a taste.”

  A waitress in a white uniform appeared. She and the other waitress looked exactly as their predecessors had years ago, except a few of them used to wear lace handkerchiefs folded into corsages pinned to their chests. Hines wondered when that custom had disappeared. When Stahl asked for a stack of pancakes and a pair of fried eggs, Hines ordered only the eggs and some coffee. The waitress walked off, and Hines said, “The pancakes were a good decision.”

  Just as the food arrived, Hines’s cell phone buzzed. She pulled it out of her purse and said, “Mom? I’m sorry, but I’m in a restaurant. I can’t talk.” She listened. “You’re right, Mom.” She looked at Stahl across the booth. “It’s very fancy. Decadent. He treats me like a queen. I know it’s late there, so you can go to bed. I won’t be out of the restaurant for a while, but I’ll call you tomorrow.” She slid the phone back into her purse.

  “You’re lying to make me look good to her?” Stahl asked.

  “She thinks I need to be cared for and babied twenty-four hours a day. If she thinks you’re not doing it, she’ll be on the next plane from Miami.”

  “She can come anytime, you know.”

  “I know,” Hines said. “And I appreciate it. I just don’t want her to yet.”

  “Why not?”

  Hines cocked her head. “Things haven’t worked their way out to what they’re going to be yet. Too much is still in the air. Having her here would make it her business too, and she’s a person with opinions.”

  “What hasn’t worked out?”

  “Life hasn’t found its way to normal yet.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know if I’ve got a career or a disability payment. I’m trying to figure out if I can go back to the squad, or if the department will want me back at all. I haven’t been charged with violating Police Regulation 271, but they could do it. And you and I are still a work in progress.”

  “We are?”

  “I’m willing to take the career questions from her. Either way, she’ll be fine with it. She’s always hated it that I’m a cop. But I’m not ready to have the conversation about you yet.”

  “Thinking of dumping me?”

  “I think about the opposite,” she said. “It’s been about two months since I moved in with you. The ambience is not that different from being in one of those long-term care places. I spend a lot of time lately wondering when you’re going to rip my clothes off and carry me to bed again.”

  “I didn’t know you were ready for that kind of thing. In working order and feeling frisky.”

  “I’m maybe not feeling like a peak performance yet, but maybe you could just gently peel the clothes down or lift them up off me or whatever is called for. That can be pretty erotic too. Or just show some prurient interest. I think it might help morale around the condo quite a bit.”

  “It’s already lifted mine in a matter of seconds.”

  “I’ll bet,” she said. “It’ll be even better if I’m not wearing a police uniform to start. You know, I love my mother, but before we figure out what normal is going to be, maybe we shouldn’t invite her into the middle of it. You agree?”

  “Completely,” he said.

  She finished her last bit of egg and eyed his plate. “Are you ready to share your pancakes?”

  “Yes.” He pushed his plate in front of her. “Have at it.”

  “You’re not afraid I’ll get fat?”

  “It’s not really my job,” he said. “I don’t want to be that guy. Besides, you work out like you were an NFL linebacker.”

  She poured a bit of melted butter on the pancake, lifted her fork, dipped a morsel of pancake into the pool of maple syrup, and closed her eyes as she ate it. “I’ve missed these too.” She put the fork down. “Let’s go home.”

  He picked up the check, slid out of the booth, and held out his hand. “Did you mean that about the clothes?”

  “Take me home and find out.”

  They drove home over Laurel Canyon. Just as they reached Mulholland Drive at the crest of the hill, the radio said, “We have a late-breaking report on the bomb crisis. Sources close to the mayor’s office have indicated that in the wake of the latest booby-trap attacks, the mayor will ask Richard Stahl, the bomb expert who was forced to resign two weeks ago, to return and take over the Bomb Squad, possibly as early as tomorrow.”

  Stahl tapped the power button to turn it off.

  “That’s quite a story,” Hines said. “I wonder where it came from.”

  “Somebody probably saw me get into the mayor’s limo at the funeral and drew the wrong conclusion.”

  When Stahl reached their street he kept going and circled the area looking for suspicious cars or trucks parked near enough to the condominium
building to indicate it was under surveillance. Stahl checked nearby buildings to see if there was any sign of lenses or directional microphones in upper windows.

  She knew immediately what he was looking for. “How long have you been doing this?” she said.

  “Since I moved in. Since the bomber singled you out as the one he wanted to kill first, I realized what a good habit it is, so I do it more often.”

  “I think he tried for me because I’m a woman.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. I humiliated him when I blocked his rifle shots at Elliot and Crowell with the truck. The only other person he targeted personally was Gloria Hedlund, also a woman. With everybody else it was just a matter of who answered a particular emergency call, something he couldn’t predict.”

  “He doesn’t seem to like women much.”

  “No, he doesn’t,” Hines said.

  “And I’ll bet women don’t think much of him, either,” said Stahl.

  “No, but I’m probably not the most objective one to ask.”

  Stahl said, “I think he’s living alone in someplace that’s remote enough to test explosives and initiators. That would keep his social calendar kind of empty. Besides, it would be really hard to explain to another person what he’s doing with all the chemicals. What you have to remember is that he’s doing it voluntarily.”

  “True,” she said. She watched the upscale houses glide by, all of them under big old trees at the back of green, closely trimmed lawns. The houses all sat at the ends of long driveways and had big garages, so there were very few cars parked on the streets in this area. The only multifamily building was Stahl’s condominium, the sort of place that was half submerged in its lawn, and had a modern look that made it seem more like an art installation than a dwelling. The parking was underground and invisible. “Looks clear tonight.”

  “Agreed,” Stahl said. “I hope I didn’t make you feel nervous.”

  “I’m not,” she said. “This is just another reason to stick to you like a suntan. Whenever I’m with you I feel safe. Let’s enter the confines of your paranoid palace.”