Rules of Vengeance

35

Den Baxter’s day was picking up.

At 9 a.m. a section of the axle bearing the vehicle identification number of the BMW housing the explosives was found. The VIN was sent to BMW Headquarters in Munich, Germany, together with a second, different, and presumably false VIN recovered from the engine block the night before, to determine where and when the car had been manufactured and sold. Both numbers were also forwarded to Interpol headquarters in Luxembourg to be checked against a registry of stolen vehicles worldwide.

At ten, the Laser Transit Surveying team completed their initial mapping of the crime scene. Using an electrodigital theodolite, a telescope mounted within two perpendicular axes-the horizontal, or trunnion, axis and the vertical axis-the team plotted the grid points of all evidence, creating a three-dimensional picture of the crime scene. Among other things, the electrodigital theodolite measured the volume of the bomb crater, compared it to the distance and location of the blast debris (including the scattered remains of body parts), and determined the weight and distribution of explosives used in the device.

Initial measurements indicated that 20 kilos of plastic explosives had been packed into the BMW and that a significant amount of unmixed cement used as a tamping agent had ensured that the charge was directed into the passing vehicle. Conclusion: the device was hand-tailored to destroy a specific target while causing limited collateral damage. As such, Baxter could assume with a high degree of certainty that the bomb maker had at some point received an advanced course in military explosives training.

At eleven, Interpol called back to report that the BMW had been reported stolen from Perugia, Italy, three months earlier. From Italy, the car had been shipped to Marseille before entering the United Kingdom in Portsmouth. It was the firm of Barton and Battle LLC, registered automobile importers, that had cleared the stolen vehicle two weeks before and released it to the custody of a Mrs. K. O’Hara, resident of Manchester.

And at twelve, Baxter received a call on his two-way radio that would significantly alter the pace and direction of the investigation.

“Boss, this is Mac. Have a minute?” Alastair McKenzie was one of his up-and-coming stars, a twenty-four-year-old bloodhound with glasses like Coke bottles and intuition that couldn’t be taught. “I found a little something at the site.”

“But we already covered the crater,” said Baxter, playing devil’s advocate. “We didn’t find spit.”

“I decided to have another look anyway,” said McKenzie. “Thought I’d give the Microviper a go.”

“Of course you did, lad. That’s why I love you. Stay put. I’ll be right there.”

Baxter dumped his piss-warm coffee into the trash and hurried down the street. He found McKenzie standing waist-deep in the blast crater. In his hand, the gangly policeman held a metallic cable running to an aluminum suitcase that sat open at his feet. At one end of the cable was a miniature camera that broadcast its images on a high-contrast screen set inside the suitcase. The device was called a Microviper, and was in fact a portable, nearly indestructible microscope capable of magnifying images up to 1000X.

“Have a look,” said McKenzie. “I found a piece of something fused to the underside of the asphalt. I’ve got it up on the screen.”

Baxter hopped into the crater and knelt by the Microviper.

“It’s a circuit board,” said McKenzie, pointing to the jagged piece of sky-blue plastic filling the screen. “Part of the phone used to detonate the bomb. I found other pieces here and there. I scanned them all and rearranged them so they fit together. Mind you, some pieces are still missing, but I think we’re getting somewhere.”

“Are those the serial numbers?”

“Four-five-seven-one-three,” said McKenzie. “We’re missing a few at the beginning. That piece must have been obliterated. Sorry ’bout that.”

“Got a maker?”

“Not yet. We need to send it to the lab. They can run it against their samples for similarities.”

To each phone a circuit board, and to each circuit board a serial number. Further study of the circuit board’s architecture would pinpoint the manufacturer. From there, it was a matter of tracking down where all phones carrying circuit boards with the last five digits 45713 had been distributed. The goal was to ascertain where the phone had been sold, the SIM card or phone number assigned to it, and, if you were lucky, the name of the villain who’d purchased it. It was no different from following a wounded animal back to its lair, thought Baxter.

“I want you to deliver all the pieces you’ve tagged and bagged to the lab,” he said. “Stay on them until they come up with something, then call me. Doesn’t matter what time.”

Baxter stomped off toward the mobile HQ. For the first time in twenty-four hours, he had a smile on his face. It was an ugly, pained smile, but nonetheless, it counted.

Den Baxter had the scent of his prey.

It was only a matter of time until he found them.