Fast and Loose

52

Stone was sleeping soundly when he was awakened by a distant popping, sounding like gunshots. He listened for a moment more, then drifted off again.

The phone rang. Stone opened an eye and glanced at the bedside clock: 6:10 AM. He reached for the phone. “Barrington,” he croaked.

“It’s Dino. How come you’re still asleep? Don’t you know what happened?”

“No, because I’m still asleep.”

“There was a police shooting in front of your house about three AM.”

“Why?” Stone asked, still foggy.

“Why? Who the hell knows why? A patrol car rumbled some guy who was putting tape on his license plate. They asked for his paperwork, and he shot both of them, then both of them shot him.”

Stone was awake now. “Anybody dead?”

“Not yet. The cops were wearing vests, and the shooter drilled them both dead center, so he was no amateur.”

“What about the shooter?”

“He’s in Bellevue, still unconscious. I’ve got detectives standing by to question him when he wakes up.”

“I can’t think of any reason why any of that might have happened in front of my house,” Stone said.

“I figured.”

“Then you could have called me in another hour, and I could have slept on.”

Dino hung up.

It was too early for breakfast to come up in the dumbwaiter, so Stone switched on the TV and surfed the morning shows. He got half a report from a local station about the shooting, but no new information. He called Dino on his cell.

“Bacchetti.”

“Anything new from the shooter in Bellevue?”

“He’s still unconscious. I told you I’d call you when I know something. Oh, the shooter’s car is registered to an Arlington, Virginia, company, EMServices. Guess who that is?” Dino hung up.

At seven the dumbwaiter rang; breakfast arrived with the Times, and Stone began his day all over again. He remembered he had a 9:30 appointment, so he was sitting at his desk on time. He finished the crossword and buzzed Joan. “Any sign of Eliot Crenshaw?”

“He called to say he was running late.”

“Thanks.” Stone finished the crossword. He glanced at his watch: 9:52. Bob, who was sitting at his feet, suddenly sat up and barked once.

“What is it, Bob?”

Bob barked again, then, surprisingly, he got an answer from outside. That set off a cascade of barking both indoors and out.

Stone got up and went to Joan’s office. “What’s going on? Bob’s going nuts.”

“So is a dog outside.”

Stone went to the door and opened it. Outside, Eliot Crenshaw stood, his briefcase in one hand and Bessie’s leash in the other. “What’s happening, Eliot?”

“Bessie is locked onto your flower box,” the lawyer said.

“Inside, quick,” Stone said.

Joan appeared in the doorway. “What’s happening?”

“Joan,” Stone said, “take Eliot and his dog, Bessie, and go sit in the garden.”

“The garden?”

“Right now, please!” She finally obeyed him, and the barking moved inside. Stone went to the flower box and saw the object behind it. There was a steel blanket, like those at construction sites, hiding something. He tugged at it, exposing a cardboard box, taped shut. He took a penknife from his pocket and slit the tape, then opened the box and brushed away some foam peanuts.

Inside the box, a digital timer was counting down from fifty-nine seconds. Foolishly, he turned over the box and emptied the contents: two blocks of plastique. “Oh, shit,” he said aloud. He followed the wires from the timer to the detonators and pulled them out of the explosive, then he threw the timer with the detonators still attached onto the sidewalk. Almost immediately, the detonators exploded, like two cherry bombs, knocking him backward. His cell phone started ringing.

“Hello?”

“It’s Dino. The shooter at Bellevue is awake, and he told my detectives that he planted a bomb outside your house. The bomb squad is on their way.”

“Tell them they’re a little late, but to come ahead anyway.”

“The bomb went off?”

“The two detonators did. Fortunately, I had separated them from the two blocks of plastic explosives.”

“Two blocks?”

“About a kilo each, I’d estimate.”

“Well, get the fuck away from it! It could still go off.”

Stone went inside and walked through his office and the kitchen to the rear garden. The two dogs were dancing around each other, making dog noises.

“I heard shots,” Eliot said.

“Not shots, detonators,” Stone replied.

“Not again,” Eliot said.

“Again,” Stone replied.

Lieutenant Marconi of the bomb squad came into Stone’s office. “You’re all clear,” he said. “You’re becoming our best customer, you know.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Stone said. “I’d prefer not to be.”

“That was high-quality stuff,” Marconi said. “Just like last time. It would have done serious damage to your house and both sides of the street, and that concrete flower box would have become very dangerous shrapnel.”

Stone held up a hand. “Don’t tell me any more, I won’t sleep tonight.”

“As you wish. Good morning.” Marconi left, and a moment later Dino joined them. “How you feeling?” Dino asked.

“Still scared.”

Bob and Bessie went to greet Dino.

“Dino, this is Eliot Crenshaw, a lawyer for St. Clair. This is his second bomb scare with me, and his dog, Bessie, saved our asses again, with a little help from Bob.”

“Good dog,” Dino said, patting her. “Our shooter at Bellevue is talking,” he said.

“Did he implicate Macher?”

Dino shook his head. “Not Macher, but Jake Herman, his guy. He’s the one who briefed the bomber, whose name is Daniel Swenson, ex-Army special forces. He’s being charged with two counts of attempted murder of a police officer — and, of course, for the bomb. The Arlington cops are on their way to pick up Herman now.”

“Jesus, Dino, offer this Swenson whatever you have to to get him to implicate Macher. Let’s put them both away.”

“I’d like nothing better,” Dino said, “but Macher never spoke a word to Swenson about this. Herman did all the talking. Still, Arlington is getting a warrant to search Macher’s offices.”

“Thank God for small favors.”