The Bomb Maker

44

“Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?”

“This is Sergeant Diane Hines, badge two eight nine six three. I’m at the home of police captain Richard Stahl, Seven Twenty-Three Anthony Drive. We’ve been attacked by several men armed with fully automatic AK-47 rifles. They killed two security guards here in order to gain entry. They’ve driven off in three black SUVs, and Captain Stahl is following them using a cell phone GPS program. It’s essential that you transmit this call to Captain Bart Almanzo, the commander of Homicide Special.”

“Are you in a safe place right now?”

“Safe enough. I’m inside the condominium.”

“Then stay where you are until the officers get there.”

“I don’t plan to go anywhere.” She was sitting in the corner of the kitchen using the house phone. Dick was using her cell phone to track his phone, so there had been no better way to call the police to reach Almanzo.

Diane wasn’t sure why the police weren’t here already. She’d assumed the guards had called 911 right away, but now she thought probably they hadn’t. There must not have been time before they were killed. She had called during the thirty seconds or so while she waited in her car for Dick, but nobody seemed to know that either. Had her first call broken up because she was underground in the garage?

Using the house phone was the best way. The computer program that ran the emergency communication system had a reverse phone book, so it identified where a call had originated. The cops would be here soon.

She waited, holding the phone and listening to dead air. Now and then the emergency operator said, “Are you still there, Sergeant?”

She would answer, “Still here.”

The operator would say, “Keep standing by. I’ll be here with you.”

“I’m here,” Diane said. “If I have to hang up I’ll warn you.”

She switched the phone to speaker and set it on the kitchen table where she could hear it without pressing it to her ear. She wanted to keep both ears uncovered so if anything happened in the condominium building she would hear. She kept the M4 she had used to shoot the terrorist on the table with her hand near the trigger guard.

When had she decided to call him a terrorist? she wondered. She deduced that it was when she’d identified the AK-47.

The time seemed too long. She said, “Did I neglect to tell you that this is a life-and-death emergency? Where are they?”

“I’m showing them as all around you, pretty much,” the operator said. “They’re closing in.”

“Tell them I’m coming out.” She hung up.

She removed the magazines from the rifle and her Glock, left the guns and ammunition on the table, stood, and walked to the front door. She switched on the porch light over the front steps and opened the door wide without standing in it. She waited until a number of bright spotlights from the cars and police officers all converged on the spot, and then she stepped out with her hands high in the air.

When she got a few steps from the door and onto the lawn she knelt there to wait, her hands still high. She judged it was safe to look around, so she tried, but the bright lights made it impossible. She knew there was a SWAT team out there in the dark behind the lights.

Seconds later she heard the sound of men running in combat boots. The first shout was: “Lie down where you are with your arms spread.”

She eased herself forward onto her stomach and let the first SWAT team members approach.

As they dragged her to her feet, she said in a loud, clear voice, “I’m Sergeant Diane Hines, LAPD Bomb Squad, and I need to talk to Captain Almanzo, Homicide Special. It’s a Code Three.”

They ushered her toward the row of police vehicles that clogged the street. She knew she had to think of a way to force things to start happening. “Get him on the phone now!”