My friends arrived and we all went out for a bite to eat. The city provided many entertainment venues to divert my mind from the gruesome task of finding the Shadow Stalker. Why, this terrorist could’ve walked right up to me on the street, and I’d be no wiser. Still, I found it relaxing to walk the crowded streets with my friends. One of the diversions that increasingly occupied my mind with each passing day was the thought of getting back together with Caroline. I thought about her more as the days of intense loneliness passed.
For weeks, I pursued with the detailed drudgery of the Shadow Stalker case. I became increasingly interested in creating a profile of the terrorist. I was no longer just analyzing data from previous bomb sites. Everyone at work knew the task ahead of me was formidable. I was enthusiastically supported by all of my colleagues, including my boss. Colonel Richards had the highest personal regard for me and my talents, but he kept pushing me hard to find the killer. He wanted this monster behind bars, so I needed to come up with some sort of strategy.
In the beginning, I visited each bomb site, hoping to find clues. I wanted to see for myself, with fresh eyes, what had already been seen by countless others. I didn’t find much. I discovered to my satisfaction, however, that the professionals in the Bureau, who prided themselves on being so thorough, had done an exemplary job in collecting materials and analyzing them in the lab. Many of these details could go unnoticed, except for the most acute intellect and observant eye. It’s almost impossible to engineer a perfect crime. A criminal, even the most brilliant, could not commit a crime in a self-correcting fashion; there were too many potential witnesses observing the world around them. This fact alone would make even the most confident and brazen criminal have pause, and, with a thousand eyes in observance, little errors in judgment seemed inevitable. At work, I reviewed the accumulated information collected at each crime scene, then I scrutinized and analyzed it. I was convinced that I was looking for an individual capable of many disguises.
I returned to my plush living space at Highgate and kept thinking about sweet Caroline. I missed her terribly. I remembered all the wonderful times we shared. I knew she still lived in her old apartment in the city, so contacting her wouldn’t be a problem, but I hadn’t spoken to her in three years. I wondered what she was doing? Maybe she had another boyfriend?
In my former relationship with Caroline, our communication eventually dwindled down to a series of irritating personal attacks. We used hurtful words as our weapon of choice. Caroline would get very angry with me and throw things at the wall. She had a spunk and vitality that kept our sex life exciting. We weren’t on speaking terms after the breakup, but I continued to believe that she still cared for me. On a whim, I decided to contact her. I thought we might go out for coffee and reminisce about old times. This wasn’t going to be easy after all this time, but what the hell. I sketched out several clumsily worded written attempts at collecting my thoughts, but finally realized that I suffered the indignity of being somewhat embarrassed, knowing that I still loved her and wanted her back in my life.
Ever since I was a young boy, I’d been a strong-willed individual, and could never admit to anyone, including myself, that I’d been wrong in what I strongly believed to be true. Caroline knew how stubborn I could be. She knew how difficult it was for me to admit that I’d made a mistake. Whether my current feelings and desires for Caroline could be satisfied in bed, or needed more time to unfold, I couldn’t really say. I finally made the decision to call her later in the week.
I continued my work at the Bureau, analyzing more data and working on my strategy to bring this killer to justice. Fortunately, I got much encouragement from my boss and all of the people working hard to find and capture this terrorist. Through direct observation and schmoozing with my friends in the police department, I accumulated additional information to help me understand this depraved serial killer. A profile of a deeply troubled madman was starting to emerge as I tried to fit together the pieces of this complex puzzle.
Hours of watching surveillance videotapes validated my conclusion that this terrorist had many disguises. There weren’t any obvious suspects or areas of suspicion to be further analyzed. This seemed a little odd.
All but one of the bombed subway sites had in place sophisticated surveillance equipment. This equipment was regularly checked and effectively working at the time of each terrorist attack. These monitoring devices were installed at strategic locations throughout the city’s rail system after the first unsolved underground bombing three years ago, an effort spearheaded by Mayor Cannel. This was a massive effort to ensure the monitoring of all subway systems in the city from any future attack.
In carefully observing these videotapes, it became evident that there weren’t any recognizable suspects inside the rail stations at the time of each bombing. No suspicious individuals or group of people were seen on surveillance tape. Yet each bomb site was remarkably similar in the aftereffects of the blast wreckage. All of these bombs were detonated at the time of greatest commuter travel, usually in the morning. Because all the electronic monitoring devices throughout the rail system were fully operational and never turned off, one could see that no suspicious packages were deposited inside the rail station. It was also clear that these terrorist bombings were not the work of a group. A group effort wouldn’t be able to elude the constant and watchful eye of the camera.
So now we needed to consider the following points: At each bomb site, there was never any interruption in the ongoing surveillance narrative. All of the surveillance video equipment installed throughout the city’s rail system was checked at regular intervals and found to be working perfectly. No one was ever seen leaving suspicious and unattended packages in any underground rail station. Yet tiny remnants of blast explosives were always detected in the rubble. This material was analyzed in the lab and determined to have caused the bombings. The lab also ruled out the possibility of suicide bombers. Surveillance videotape revealed none of these lone wolves stalking the subway. Here, then, was a Gordian knot of mystery and complexity requiring the most brilliant effort to solve.
CHAPTER FOUR
I sipped tea at Highgate, relaxing in my study. My first task was to determine how the bomber got the explosives inside the rail station and on the train. One might think that the bomber would carry the explosive device inside the train station and place it somewhere without attracting attention. Then the bomber could retreat to a safe location and detonate the bomb. But the surveillance cameras never recorded anyone leaving a suspicious package. The Shadow Stalker may have never entered the train station. He may have been hiding, looking for innocent and unsuspecting commuters. Was planting explosive devices on commuters to carry into the train station the bomber’s modus operandi? If true, it seemed likely that the method of transferring explosives had to occur outside the train station. It was unsettling to think that innocent people might have been used to commit these horrific murders.
The killer needed to select individuals who’d escape detection, walking into the train station. This wasn’t easy, because there were security officers standing everywhere. The unsuspecting, bomb-carrying commuter would enter a crowded subway train and likely be killed, along with the chaos and terrible devastation that would follow. I was now more determined than ever to shine the light on this brazen terrorist before he could kill again.
I was spending a quiet evening in my apartment when the phone rang. I got up and answered it. “Hello, Jimmy,” a female voice said.
“Caroline, is that you?”
“Yes.”
“My God, it’s been such a long time. It’s great hearing your voice again.”
“You know, Jimmy, I’ve really missed you. I recently heard from a friend that you were still living in the city. I wanted to call and find out how you’re doing.”
“I’m doing well. I’ve been busy at work. Caroline, I’ve missed you too. What have you been up to?”
“I work downtown in a boutique. I really en
joy the people I work with. What about you?”
“I work at the Bureau now. It’s the same kind of problem-solving detective work I did at the Dalworth Agency in Pottsville.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
“Oh yeah,” I said.
“Hey, Jimmy, maybe we could get together sometime, and reminisce over old times. I’d like that.”
“That sounds great.” We chatted for several more minutes and I thanked her for calling. After I hung up the phone, I was excited about seeing her again.
Colonel Richards called. He wanted me to travel to the town of Silvermore to investigate a lead in the case that came down through the Bureau. I immediately left for Silvermore to check out the lead. It concerned the possible discovery of plastic explosives and several suspicious individuals. I spent two hours in that town foraging for clues and information. Unfortunately, this lead proved useless, just like the one in Lancaster. I was getting discouraged and frustrated with my inability to come up with any good leads in the complicated Shadow Stalker case. I ate a late dinner at nearby Bridgestone on my way home. When I returned to Highgate, I was tired, but still wanted to review more surveillance videotape at the Bureau. I went downtown to the lab and worked late into the night. I wanted to review the area outside the T2 rail station. This was the area where commuters converged before entering the train station. I worked in the lab past midnight. There were just a few stalwart bones left from the skeleton crew that worked the graveyard shift. Everyone else had gone home for the night.
I was looking for any clue concerning a method of passing explosives to commuters walking inside the train station. No single person stood out in the crowd gathered outside the entrance to the underground rail station. This fact, however, piqued my curiosity. Assuming that innocent commuters were being watched and targeted by the bomber, one had to wonder how these explosives, possibly camouflaged as packages, were being passed along. I got home late that night and immediately fell asleep.
The next day, I reviewed more surveillance tapes provided by my boss. In reviewing those tapes, I noticed that each bomb site had a preponderance of local street vendors outside the entrance to the underground subway. I paid particular attention to one vendor who sat at a flower display table, complete with a colorful umbrella awning. This vendor, unlike the others, was seen and identified as being present at many bomb site locations on the days when tragedy struck. I wondered if the method of transferring explosives to commuters was a potted plant, or a beautiful bouquet of flowers. I was intrigued by this lead, and spent several days visiting important rail stations around the city. After days of searching, I couldn’t find anyone matching the description of this possible suspect.
What a clever way to deliver powerful explosives to an unsuspecting, crowded train of commuters! A potted plant or floral bouquet was compact and can be packed with explosives. The device could be wired for remote or timed detonation. The wiring and attached explosives would be covered by the multilayered foil wrapping and enclosed greens. This dangerously deceptive package could be passed to an unsuspecting commuter through a purchase for a loved one, and then carried into the train station and on the train without arousing suspicion.
I discussed my thinking with Smythe, Madison and the Colonel. In a hurriedly convened meeting at the Bureau, I learned important new information. For security reasons, the police decided to increase foot patrols for several weeks at all rail stations throughout the city. Unfortunately, this represented a huge expenditure of time, money and personnel. What would the bomber do now? He might shift his operations to target weak areas with few or no active security patrols, with no trained dogs to sniff flowers for explosives.
The next day I returned to the lab. I received more T2 surveillance videotapes from my boss. From various manipulations of the camera angle, I was able to achieve my best view of the perpetrator. It was as I suspected: a single individual, operating in such a way as to make facial identification through surveillance videotape difficult. The suspect looked like a woman but could be a man dressed like a woman. The suspect was wearing large sunglasses and a colorful, wide-brim hat, which together covered the top third of the head.
I alerted my boss to what I was doing. After a brief meeting, telling him my thoughts on the case, I requested that he post agents disguised as bums at every rail station throughout the city. Colonel Richards thought it might be a good idea. I asked him for permission to put the plan into effect ASAP. He okayed the plan. We gave a description of the suspect to the agents and told them to hang out near the vendor stations located outside the entrance to each underground rail station in the city. As part of their disguise, they’d panhandle for money or provide some local entertainment.
My plan was simple: When an agent reported a vendor matching the description, we’d detain the suspect for questioning.
Several days passed, though, and the suspect was nowhere to be seen. I was starting to feel frustrated. I wanted the terrorist to come out from hiding, but at least now there was a lull in the bombings. This was welcomed news, as the winter holidays would soon be here. I was looking forward to that.
The next day, after work, I met with some of my friends. We all went out to Baderman’s Deli to celebrate my birthday. I really hated surprise birthday parties. Fortunately, this wasn’t one of them. I gorged on delicious food, opening cards and a few presents. Afterwards, my friends took me out to a fabulous play in the theater district. I really enjoyed that. It was a damn shame that I couldn’t attend more of them. Recently, work had become so stressful with the Shadow Stalker subway bombings. After spending hours at work perusing piles of paper and reports, I was exhausted when I arrived home. It was all I could do to drag myself to bed. In the morning, the grind would start all over. My only respite was on the weekends, where I found the time and energy to pursue my own interests.
One of the things I enjoyed doing was hanging out in the city. I’ve always loved the myriad entertainment venues that made this city so interesting and exciting. I enjoyed concerts, fine gourmet restaurants, and the many museums that reflected the culture of this cosmopolitan city. My favorite is the Sedgemore Museum. This treasured vault of art masterpieces was one of my most frequented hangouts. But just to be in the city, especially at night, to witness thousands of people seeking out pleasure feels exciting to me. Since I was born in this city, this whirlwind of activity has been part of my life ever since I can remember. So, on the weekends, this is where I’d go to relax with friends.
CHAPTER FIVE
My next task was to create a flower bomb. I wanted to create a facsimile bomb to see which explosive materials produced similar devastation to what was witnessed at each crime scene. If we could determine the constituent parts of the bomb, we might be able to trace those materials to recent purchases. Potential buyers could then be brought in for questioning.
I began constructing the makeshift bomb in the lab. I created two prototypes which could approximate the level of destruction witnessed at each bomb site. One device was a potted plant wired with plastic explosives. It had a simple detonator and timer. The other device was a bouquet of cut flowers fastened to a base of plastic explosives with a similar detonator and timer. I consulted with Jim Madison on building these devices. The Bureau had access to an abundance of plastic explosives and other bomb materials. Since I didn’t know if the bomber used timers, or blew up the devices remotely, I prepared for both possibilities. Each prototype closely matched samples I saw on the vendor’s display table in the surveillance videotape. After I completed my work, I reported back to Colonel Richards. He seemed pleased.
I returned home from the lab after work. I was hungry and grabbed a bite to eat, then took my time reading the local newspaper. There were always interesting stories that grabbed my attention. I read for a while, then put the paper away. Caroline was on my mind. After our recent phone conversation, I saw her in a dream. It was great thinking about all of the wonderful times we shared. Those memories were some of th
e happiest times of my entire life.
After dinner, I decided to go for a walk in the park. I opened the outside door to my apartment. The full moon was shining brightly, illuminating the darkened cityscape in shadowy reverie. And there, standing in stark contrast, was Caroline. She stood in front of my apartment gate, dressed in a shimmering black outfit. She cast a long and deep shadow in front of her. Our eyes met.
“Caroline, what are you doing here?”
“Jimmy, I need to see you.”
I descended the seven steps leading to the street and reached out for her hand. We embraced. It felt really good to feel her body pressed hard into mine after all these years. We briefly exchanged pleasantries, then started walking to a local place I knew for coffee and conversation.
As we walked along, Caroline was silent and seemed reflective. I thought about our breakup and heard Caroline’s fateful words echo again: “Jimmy, I can’t see you anymore, not like this.” As we continued walking in silence, I thought back to our first chance meeting many years ago when I was working for the Dalworth Agency in Pottsville.
The day started out clear and sunny, but cool. After several minutes, I noticed storm clouds building in the sky. I was shopping in the open markets in the city, like I usually did on Sunday. I often shopped these markets with my mother when I was a little boy. It was always fun perusing the piles of trash and treasure. I was roaming the streets when I spotted the woman of my dreams, standing near a storefront window display of antiques. I watched as she playfully eyed the store, deciding whether to go in and browse. I found her extremely attractive, dressed in blue jeans and red leather boots. She had long, waist-length reddish-brown hair and a gorgeous figure. I guessed she was about thirty-five years old. She had a medium athletic build, but I was too far away to get a good look at her face.
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