The hose withdrew, and DiMauro saw a yellow light appear in the window. He saw a beefy hand holding a bottle with a flaming rag sticking out of the neck.
“Oh, God.”
The hand let go and the bottle fell, hitting the ground and shattering. Its flammable contents spilled out and caught fire. The paper caught fire. Confetti in the air, slowly wafting to the ground, caught fire. It was soon less like snow, and more like a rain of fire.
With nowhere else to go, DiMauro ran into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. The bathroom held the only other window in the apartment. He couldn’t get past the bars, but he could see the feet of people walking by on the street. He opened the window. “Help me! Please help me!”
A man on the street with a dirty raincoat and an even dirtier beard bent down and peered into the window. “What’s up, dude?”
“Help me. My apartment is on fire and I’m trapped.”
“You mean you can’t get out?”
“No.”
The dirty man sniffed the air. “I think I smell smoke.”
“My apartment is on fire.”
“Whoa, dude. You should get outta there. It’s not safe.”
“I can’t. I’m trapped.”
“You mean you can’t get out?”
“No.”
“Damn. That’s not safe. You should complain to your landlord.”
By this time, the scene had attracted other onlookers. A towering black woman with a shaved head and multiple piercings roughly shoved the dirty man aside. She had a cell phone in her hands. “I called the fire department. They should be here any minute.”
DiMauro wasn’t sure he had even another minute. The bathroom had filled up with smoke and he could feel the heat on his back. Then he heard a man’s voice shouting, “Hang on! Everyone get out of the way!” The onlookers parted, and DiMauro saw a Chinese man with a length of chain over his shoulder. He knelt down and looped the chain around three of the bars. Then he hollered over his shoulder, “Okay, hit it!”
The other end of the chain was attached to a truck. The driver hit the accelerator, and the truck lurched forward. It slowed when the chain went taut, but didn’t stop. The bars tore loose from their foundation, sending fragments of concrete flying.
DiMauro glanced behind him, the bathroom door was now on fire.
The man with the chain and the tall, black woman reached down into the window and pulled DiMauro out. Smoke was now pouring through the window.
DiMauro lay on his back on the sidewalk, staring up at the good Samaritans who had saved his life. Hacking and coughing, he managed to wheeze out a faint, “Thank … you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Crime scene tape and uniformed police officers held back onlookers. A fire truck, three squad cars, and an ambulance were parked outside the smoldering building, their red and blue flashers illuminating the street. A few wisps of smoke continued to drift skyward, but the fire was mostly out. It had begun to rain, not hard, but enough to discourage some of the more casual looky-loos. Those people forced from their homes because of the fire were beginning to get cranky, wondering when they would be able to return home and go back to bed.
An Asian woman in a black London Fog and carrying a yin-yang decorated umbrella approached the crime scene tape. An officer intended to stop her until she brandished her badge. Ducking under the tape, she made a beeline for the ambulance. A paramedic was giving a statement to a uniformed police officer. She flashed her badge again as she approached. “Inspector Hiro, homicide.” San Francisco was the only city in America that still used the title of Inspector for police detectives.
“Homicide?” The officer was puzzled. “No one is dead.”
“I know the victim.” She turned to the paramedic. “How is Mr. DiMauro?”
“He should be okay.” The paramedic said. “The big thing is smoke inhalation. It usually is with fires. He’s got a few scrapes as well. I gather he had to be pulled out a window. Mostly, he’s just freaked out.”
“Will you be taking him to a hospital?”
“Not unless he wants to go. Honestly, I don’t think he needs to.”
Inspector Hiro turned back to the man in uniform. “What the hell happened?”
“You aren’t gonna believe this. Some guy comes along and seals up the apartment. Then, he fills it up with shredded paper and lights it on fire.”
“Paper?”
“Yeah, like confetti. I think he used one of those machines for blowing insulation into attics and such.”
“You’re right, I don’t believe it.”
“I know. You gotta be a special kinda crazy to come up with something like that but, I gotta admit, it was effective. Small pieces of loose paper means lots of airflow. The fire spread so fast it was almost like gasoline.”
“Were there any witnesses?”
“Some people saw a big truck parked outside, but nobody got a license plate. Once the fire started, people were more concerned with saving the occupant.”
“Thank God for that.” Once again to the paramedic, “Can I talk to him?”
“Sure.” He stepped aside and let her board the ambulance.
DiMauro was sitting up on a gurney with an oxygen mask across his face. His shirt was off and electrode pads were stuck to his bare chest. Another paramedic pulled the pads off, one by one. DiMauro winced each time. He smiled behind the mask when he saw Hiro.
“How are you doing, Gil?”
“Mmmmhhhph.” His voice was muffled by the mask.
“What? I don’t understand you.”
He said to the paramedic. “Mmmmhhhph.”
The paramedic said, “What?”
DiMauro pulled the mask off his face and said, “Can I take this thing off now?”
“If you don’t think you still need it.”
DiMauro took a deep breath. “I think I’m fine.” He put his shirt back on and climbed off the gurney. As they exited the ambulance, DiMauro said, “Thanks for coming, Hiro.”
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine. I just need … oh, God.” DiMauro stopped and stared at the damage to his apartment building. A black scorch mark originated from the broken basement window and reached at least ten feet up the side of the building. “Look at my home. Everything I owned was in that apartment.”
“You’re alive, Gil. That’s the important thing, and I’d like to keep it that way. Do you have any idea who did this?”
“DataGuard.”
“DataGuard? What’s that?”
“It’s a document destruction company. I paid them a visit yesterday.”
“Document destruction as in shredded paper?”
“Exactly.”
“So this is about one of your insurance fraud cases?”
DiMauro shrugged. “I guess so, but it doesn’t make any sense. This reaction is way over the top.”
“People who commit crimes are criminals.” Hiro said. “Even people who commit insurance fraud.”
“Insurance fraud is one of the safest crimes there is. Juries hate to send people to jail when the victim is a big, bad insurance company. That’s why most people get away with it.” It was a speech DiMauro had given many times before. “Coming after me is too big of a risk. It doesn’t accomplish anything.”
“That would make sense if you were dealing with logical people. Criminals aren’t always logical and sometimes they are violent for no good reason. If you stumbled across a crime ring, it’s only natural they might try to silence you.”
“What the hell do you mean, ‘stumbled’?” DiMauro snapped, angrily. “I may not have a badge, but I’m still an investigator and a damned good one.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Anyway, the people behind the DataGuard scam figured out who I was and blew me off. I was all set to hand the whole thing over to the FBI. Trying to scare me off doesn’t make any sense.”
“Scare you off? Whoever did this sealed you up in your apartme
nt and set it on fire. He wasn’t trying to scare you. He was trying to kill you.”
“But that’s just it. This was all too much. It’s one thing to shoot or stab a guy just to get him out of the way. What this guy did was too big. It almost seems …” DiMauro trailed off.
Hiro finished his sentence for him. “Personal.”
“Exactly.”
“Did you recognize anyone at this place, DataGuard?”
“Nobody.”
Their conversation was interrupted by shrieks from the crowd. They looked to see what was causing the ruckus and saw a 1967 midnight blue Packard mount the curb, sending bystanders scattering. One of the back doors opened and Ursula leapt out of the car before the came to a halt. She ran under the crime scene tape, dodging the police officer who tried to stop her.
“It’s okay, officer.” Hiro said. “Let her through.”
Ursula threw her arms around DiMauro. “Oh, Gil. I was so worried when I heard. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“He’s fine.” The Old Lady growled as she slowly climbed out of the driver’s seat. The Packard belonged to her. She and Garrett joined the others.
DiMauro grinned at his boss. “Nice parking job.”
“I hate driving in this town.”
“You could have taken a bus.”
“The last time I took a bus in this city, some character from Chinatown got it on with two live chickens. I was picking feathers out of my coat for a week. Anyway, I had to pick up Ursula and Garrett. When I called them, they insisted on coming along.”
DiMauro said to his coworkers, “Well, thanks for the concern, but I’m fine.”
Garrett shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “I’m so sorry, Gil.”
“Why are you sorry? It’s not your fault.”
When Garrett didn’t say anything, the Old Lady took her pocketbook from under her arm and whacked him across the back of his head with it. “Go on, idiot. Tell him.”
DiMauro was puzzled. “Tell me what.”
Garrett didn’t look at DiMauro. He just stared at his shoes. “Actually, it kinda is my fault. I went back to DataGuard and cornered one of the workers, trying to get him to spill the beans. I told him we knew about the medical records and insurance fraud and everything. I thought I could get evidence against them, but he didn’t bite.”
DiMauro was furious. “I told you not to do that.”
“I know, and I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry. Fat lot of good that does me. Someone must have seen you together.” DiMauro paused for a moment, then, “Wait. That doesn’t make any sense. If you were the one snooping, why did they come after me?”
Garrett shrugged. “Maybe they thought you were in charge. After all, you never let me say anything while we were there.”
Listening to this exchange, Hiro said, “So we still have that same question unanswered: why such an extreme reaction?”
“We’re missing something.” DiMauro said. “There’s some key piece of data we don’t have yet.”
“I have to go. Do you have a place to stay tonight, Gil?” Hiro asked.
DiMauro was disappointed. “I’m sure I can find someplace.”
Hiro heard the tone in his voice and realized he had expected her to offer him a place to spend the night. “I have to call the Daly City PD. We have to go after these DataGuard people right away before they have a chance to destroy any evidence.”
The Old Lady said, “You’d better hurry. DataGuard is all about destroying evidence.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
During the day, the DataGuard offices were filled with the sounds of heavy-duty machinery, truck engines, and the banging of trash bins. At times, it was hard for people to have a conversation. On the floor where the industrial shredders operated, it was impossible, and the men who worked there had taken to using hand signals to communicate.
At night, when the business was closed and the machines silent, every sound seem to reverberate throughout the building. Hand signals weren’t necessary then, but Salazar resorted to using one anyway, showing Irwin Lutz his middle finger.
“Okay, you’re obviously pissed.” Irwin said, uncharacteristically apologetic. “I don’t blame you, and I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? How could you be so stupid? You’ve led the police right to us.”
Irwin leaned back in an office chair that creaked under his immense weight. He rested an arm on a small table, gently tapping a huge fist on the tabletop. “The police were already onto us.”
Salazar was shaking with fury and Lutz’s casual attitude only made him angrier. “The insurance company was onto us. That’s not the same thing.”
“It’s that guy, DiMauro. When I think about him and what he did to me, I can’t even think straight.”
“We have to bail now. Tonight. We have to destroy all the evidence. If you hadn’t done this, we would still have time. It’s one thing if it was just the insurance company after us. It’s quite another when the police come after us for a murder rap.”
“Attempted murder,” Conor corrected as he walked into the room.
Irwin sat straight up. “What?”
The smaller man said, “I just heard on the news that insurance man is still alive.”
“Shit!” Irwin brought his huge fist down onto the table so hard it collapsed.
“You’ve ruined everything, you moron.” Conor wailed with frustration. “I knew this would happen. Everything was going great, but that psychotic side of beef just couldn’t keep it together.”
Irwin stood up and glared menacingly.
“Shut up, Conor,” Salazar snapped. “Or I’ll let him pound you into a greasy smear on the floor.”
Conor continued. “No, I won’t shut up. This isn’t just his fault. It’s your fault, too. We should have done what Rose said. We should have called her as soon as we knew the insurance company was on to us. That’s was Rose told us to do, but noooo, you had to keep it secret. Rose would have known what to do, and we wouldn’t be in this mess now.”
Unlike Irwin, Salazar usually kept a tight rein on his temper, but Conor was an irritant and a whiner, and Salazar hated whiners. He took a threatening step forward towards Conor. “Rose isn’t here. I am, and I’m gonna show you who’s really in charge.”
Grinning, Irwin came up beside Salazar, determined not to let him have all the fun.
Conor pulled a revolver out of his pocket and fired once. There was a loud crack, and the ping of a ricochet as the bullet gouged a substantial divot out of the concrete floor right between Salazar’s feet.
The two big men stared open-mouthed at Conor. Irwin said, “Nice shot.”
Keeping his gun trained on the larger men, Conor said, “You two have tormented me long enough. You’re both a couple of brainless gorillas, and you’re not pushing me around any more. I called Rose and told her what happened, and she told me what to do. She also said I’m in charge now. Either of you muscle heads got a problem with that?”
Salazar and Irwin glanced at each other before shaking their heads.
“That’s good, because we got a lot to do and we need to hurry.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon when half a dozen Daly City police cars arrived at DataGuard, the police officers armed with a warrant, weapons, Kevlar vests and a battering ram, just in case. Inspector Hiro rode with Lieutenant Aaron Bradley, the senior officer and the man in charge of the operation. As they approached, the lieutenant said to Hiro, “You stay here until I give the all clear.”
“What?” Hiro didn’t bother to hide her outrage.
“Stay in the car. Do you understand?”
“No, I don’t understand. This is supposed to be a joint operation between San Francisco and Daly City.”
“The hell it is. You are here strictly as an observer.”
“My captain said …”
“I don’t give shit what your captain or anyone else s
aid.” Without waiting for a response, he slammed the door and joined the rest of his team as they prepared to enter the premises.
“Asshole,” she said out loud to no one. She should have expected this. The Daly City PD always resented it when San Francisco stepped on their turf. It was the same with Oakland, San Jose, Cupertino, and most of the other cities in the Bay Area. The San Francisco police Department was better funded, better respected and, frankly, a lot more glamorous than the others. No one ever made television shows about the Daly City police force. On the one hand, she could understand his attitude and even sympathize. One the other hand, why did he have to be such a dick?
Hiro sat in the quad car with her arms crossed, watching the action. They didn’t need the battering ram. Entering the building was a breeze. There was a fence around the property, but the gate was unlocked. The front door was not only unlocked but wide open.
Uh-oh. That wasn’t a good sign.
The officers swarmed the building with Bradley in the lead. She could no longer see them, but Hiro knew what would happen next. First, they would search the entire building, floor by floor, looking for any people and booby traps. Only after they building was secure would they allow the forensic team to begin the search for evidence.
Hiro scanned the windows. She saw no lights save for the flashlights carried by the police. Wait. She did see another light source. They couldn’t have reached the top floor, yet, but there was definitely a light in one of the upper windows. It wasn’t from a torch, it was more yellow and flickering. Then she saw the smoke seeping out.
Hiro grabbed a megaphone, opened the door and called out, “Withdraw! Withdraw! The building is on fire! The building …”
Broken: A Leopold Blake Thriller Page 10