“No. I’m not hungry. You can go ahead and get your own lunch. I’ll be fine.”
“With the executives coming in tomorrow, I’d planned to eat at my desk today in case you had any last-minute needs.”
“Thank you, Amy; that was very thoughtful of you.”
“I’ll just go to the ladies’ room and be right back,” Amy said, closing the inner door.
She unlocked her desk drawer and retrieved her purse. The two security guards watched her as she walked down the hall, but they maintained their vigil across from the suite’s front door. When she returned to the office, the door of the cabinet behind her desk was partially open, and a bottle of Dewar’s was missing.
“We probably shouldn’t be doing this,” Charlie said, chucking her boots and ripping her jeans down to her ankles.
“Stop being so responsible.”
“But, I am responsible. I’ve always been.”
Across the bed, Mandy was undressing with equal intensity. “Well, there’s only one thing I want you to be responsible for right now.”
Unclothed, they fell together on the bed, giggling.
“I feel like we’re playing hooky from school, or grabbing a quickie at lunch,” Mandy said, pulling the covers up to her neck.
“That’s exactly what we’re doing.”
“And that’s the fun of it, Charlie. Allow yourself to have some fun.”
Charlie dipped under the covers to part Mandy’s legs. Neither said another word, but their moans dueled as they made love with the enthusiasm of teenagers. Mandy placed her hand on the lump under the blanket formed by Charlie’s head and pulled her deeper inside. Charlie was not only a martial artist, but she had equal skill in oral pleasuring. She knew how to apply just the right amount of pressure, when to be the aggressor and when, and how to, absorb a passionate response. When Mandy’s butt levitated from the bed, and her thighs became taut, Charlie raised her arms to hold Mandy’s hips, rhythmically alternating between licking, sucking, and plunging her tongue until she brought Mandy’s passion to the surface with a prolonged eruption. When the quakes quieted, Charlie crawled up Mandy’s body, gripped her wrists, and lifted them above the pillow. Slowly, Charlie began rotating against Mandy’s mound, until they moved in tandem. When Mandy tried to lower her arms, Charlie held them fast. “I need you to touch me,” Mandy said. Charlie released one wrist and reached down to massage wet lips. Mandy groaned in appreciation, and used her free hand to grab a hunk of Charlie’s ass. She parted Charlie’s cheeks and splayed her finger along the crevice. “Oh,” Charlie gasped, humping harder. Mandy came again. This time with small whimpers, and Charlie’s name on her tongue.
Charlie rolled onto her back and reached out for Mandy, who curled into her arms.
“I guess I was pretty horny,” Mandy said.
Charlie didn’t respond; she just pulled Mandy tighter against her heaving chest. They lay silent for a couple of minutes sharing the satisfaction of damp skin and growing love.
“I started feeling territorial when Cynthia described Heinrich’s reaction to our being a couple.”
“Umm. Hmm.”
“You knew?”
“I saw your jaw tighten.”
“I don’t want anyone but me thinking about you that way.”
Mandy lifted onto her elbow to look at her lover. She caressed her face, then laid her palm on Charlie’s chest.
“I know it will happen all the time,” Charlie added. “It’s the downside of dating an amazingly beautiful woman.”
“Stop your talking. I’m doing you now.”
Charlie smiled. “I bet other lesbians do more sweet-talking and kissing in bed.”
“Oh, I see. First, you pin me down and now you want to be romantic. Okay. How’s this: I adore you. You’re my very own brown beauty. I don’t care how many other people look at me. I only have eyes for you. Now, I’d like us to stop talking so I can explore you from your curly head to your pedicured toes.”
“Where’s Charlie?” Don asked, standing over Judy’s desk.
“I don’t know. After our noon gathering, she went to Cynthia’s office, then phoned to say she would be out a couple of hours.”
Judy watched Don’s scowl, then she looked over at Gil who gave her a squint and tilt of the head. Judy closed her laptop, and prepared herself for a session of Don control.
“Do you want me to try to reach her?” she asked.
“No. But I’m thinking of having a meeting with Heinrich.”
“Why do you want to do that? I thought we were supposed to keep hands off,” Judy said.
“I’m having second thoughts about that. If he’s the bad guy, why give him the chance to blow something up?”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to work him up.” Gil picked up the pacification.
“Canterra didn’t say we shouldn’t talk to the guy,” Don argued.
“That’s true, but what would you say to him? What do you think he’ll tell us?”
“I bet I can beat some information out of him.”
“The goal is to make him believe we’re focusing on the Chinese now, that we’ve bought into his deflection. Then maybe he’ll put his guard down and lead us to the trouble,” Gil explained. “We’re keeping an eye on him, and so is DHS.”
“And don’t forget, Mandy’s meeting with him this evening to keep him on the hook,” Judy piped in.
“I know, I know all that. But I’m damn sick of just waiting around for this asshole to make a move.”
Don shook off his sports jacket and stomped into the conference room. He opened the mini-refrigerator, stared in, and slammed the door. He started sorting through the basket of snacks on the table. “Don’t we have any doughnuts or something, Novak?”
“Look in the credenza,” Judy hollered back.
“You better call Charlie,” Gil whispered to Judy.
In the last few days, the Mack partners had established a routine of meeting between 6 and 8 a.m., at noon, 6 to 8 p.m., and midnight. They were usually joined by a varying combination of the freelancers, Tyson, Cynthia, Tony, and sometimes one or two Cobo managers. It was a way to share information and stay encouraged. Tonight’s search for bomb components in Cobo’s public areas would replace the midnight meeting. Judy had brought in food from Mexican Village and at 7 p.m. the group gathered snugly in the conference room, including all the freelancers, the two DHS agents, and Tyson, who had come around to propose an idea.
“We should put our janitors on the team,” he said. “They’re here early in the morning, late into the evening, and are constantly in and out of every level. They already use two-way radios, and if they know what to look for, they could be invaluable to us.”
“That would mean letting more people know we’re looking for explosives,” Charlie said. “Could we count on their discretion?”
Ty shrugged.
“How many are there?” Gil asked.
“Forty.”
“Wow. That would give us some real manpower,” Don said
“But only twenty-five or so would be around to help with tonight’s search. The rest don’t have shifts before Sunday,” Ty noted.
“That’s still a lot more help. What do you think, Mack?”
“The downside is, we can be sure someone among them will reveal that we have a bomb threat. But at this point, we have to take that chance. Anyone see any other problems with the notion?” Charlie asked the table.
“Have they all been background checked?” Senior Agent Mann asked.
Charlie nodded to Carter to respond. He was working on a plastic container of chicken enchiladas with pico de gallo, beans, and rice. He put down his fork.
“Yes. We checked them out early,” Carter began, “because it’s true, they do have access to the full building. Cobo does a criminal check on the janitors, and everyone’s bonded and drug tested.”
“Are they uniformed?” the agent spoke up again.
“They wear navy work pants and blue shirts.
But they have name and facility patches,” Ty said.
“I see what you’re getting at,” Charlie said. She had chosen one of the taco platters, and wiped at the sour cream on the corner of her mouth. “It’s easy to buy those kind of work clothes, isn’t it?”
“Far too easy,” Mann said.
“Okay, before we start the search, will you discuss it with Don, Hoyt, and Tyson?” Charlie suggested to the agent. “Figure out a system for identifying all the Cobo staff during the show.”
“Anything else? Judy, Carter, any problems on the loading dock this morning?”
“No problems, just delays and angry drivers. A lot of the food deliveries came in this morning. I’ve never seen so many hot dogs, hamburger patties, buns, popcorn, hot pretzels, mustard, and bottles of water,” Judy said.
“Or toilet paper,” Carter added.
“Oh, that’s right. The facilities supervisor signed for a lot of things today, too. There were deliveries of TP and hand towels, hand soap for the restrooms, and there was a delivery of recyclable bins and trash containers. I remember that one, because the driver’s name was Novak,” Judy said.
“Spare us the details,” Don said, dipping chips into the guacamole container he had commandeered for himself.
“How did the bomb-sniffing dogs work out?” Hoyt asked.
“Just fine. They had their noses to the grindstone,” Judy quipped.
Everyone groaned at the bad pun. The levity seemed to signal the end of the full meeting, and small groups formed to discuss individual issues.
“Are you good?” Gil asked, following Charlie to her desk.
“Yes. You?”
“Mandy’s meeting with Heinrich tonight?”
“That’s right.”
Gil was a great reader of people. A skill he’d picked up at eighteen when he started a summer job as his uncle’s part-time car salesman. Later, he’d joined the Marines, and when he got out, he and Charlie had met and bonded at the Detroit College of Law, where they were later recruited by Homeland Security. They’d both wanted to use their law degrees to help their people, but after witnessing the blatant racial profiling at DHS they had become less enamored with their work as federal agents.
“You worried for her?”
“Not particularly. She’s a professional. Look, Gil, what’s bothering you?”
“I’m not prying, Charlie. Tio wants me to pull out of the case.”
“You’ve been talking to your uncle?”
“I know you’re supposed to be the one communicating with DADA, but he called last night, and I gave him an update.”
“He’s worried?”
“Very.”
“We all took this job aware there would be risks. In fact, your uncle was the one who first warned us.”
“I know. It’s just that the stakes have gotten higher. I mentioned it to Don and suggested he should be thinking about Rita and Rudy.”
“What’d he say?”
“You know Don. He gave me his Marine look. But maybe it would be a good idea to send Judy home, or at least back to the office. She’s done a good job with the background checks and the loading dock work, but I don’t see what more she can do here.”
The stench of sweat, chemicals, and solder fumes hung like smoke in the garage. A couple of times, Dudiyn used the remote to open the overhead door. But gawking neighbors and their nosy dogs forced him to seal the small space again. He’d built twenty-seven PVC pipe bombs that could be detonated with a phone signal. Each would weigh about five pounds once they were loaded with nails, and the compact size would make them even more lethal.
He needed a break and some dinner. Heinrich’s kitchen was useless, filled with chrome counter machines that made unappetizing food and drinks, and jars filled with grains, seeds, and nuts. The contents of his refrigerator were no better. Apples, limes, fussy little containers filled with stuff that smelled like shit. He returned to the garage and grabbed the keys to the white van.
For security, the van was parked a few blocks away in a church lot. The custodian had agreed to allow the vehicle to park for a month when Dudiyn forked over five brand-new hundred-dollar bills. Dudiyn walked once around the van with a flashlight to check for tampering. The only prints in the snow had been made by a stray cat. He drove north on John R and made a quick left. The McDonald’s on Woodward Avenue would have to do for his dinner. He hated dealing with the mongrel workers, but tonight he didn’t have many other options. He couldn’t be away from the house too long. He had to keep an eye on the chemicals, and he still had a lot of assembly work to do.
“May I take your order?” the voice said through the speaker.
“I want a number ten,” Dudiyn said.
“Do you want to add an apple pie or a milkshake to that?”
“No.”
“What kind of drink do you want?”
“A Coke.”
“Okay, that’ll be $7.43. Pull up to the first window.”
He handed ten dollars to a middle-aged Mexican woman. She pressed a button, which opened a cash drawer, and retrieved change and a receipt which she dropped into Dudiyn’s outstretched hand.
“Have a good night,” she said, smiling, to Dudiyn. When he didn’t return the smile, she looked away. “Drive up to the next window for your food.”
Tonight, Dudiyn didn’t feel like leaving the van in the church lot and trudging back in the snow to the house, so he backed it into the driveway. Heinrich’s car was already there.
“Where’ve you been?” Heinrich said coming out of the house.
“I needed some food. I can’t eat that bird-food crap you have in your kitchen.”
“I bought three fans. They’re in here.” Heinrich opened the trunk of the Saab.
Dudiyn carried the boxes into the house, through the kitchen, and into the garage. He took the fans out of the packaging and plugged them in facing the workbench. The circulating air was already working to dissipate the chemical fumes.
“That’s better,” Dudiyn said.
“I’m going to have some company tonight so this door will be locked,” Heinrich said, pointing to the door between the kitchen and the garage. “Also, you need to move the van back to the church lot.”
“Look, I still have a lot of work to do to keep to the deadline. If I’m walking back and forth, that means I’m not working.”
“I don’t want to take a chance on anyone seeing this van. Mack and her people may have been able to pull the security footage when you nabbed the kid, and one of them is coming here this evening.”
“Let me guess. The redhead.”
“Just keep your mind on the work. We need all the units completed and ready to be transported by tomorrow morning.”
Dudiyn used the remote to open the garage door and close it again as he exited. The church parking lot was still empty, and he parked the rental van next to the blue church van where it would look less conspicuous. Then he placed the call he’d suspected he would have to make.
The Chinese client had hired him directly to work with Heinrich. But the Chinks were the same to him as the other mongrels. What had happened to the world? When had the white man lost control? He blamed the Jew-run media for the upheaval in the natural order of things.
“You said I should call if Heinrich became a problem.”
“What is the nature of your concern?” the voice said in perfect, unaccented English.
“He’s letting his personal habits affect his judgment. Plus, we’ve had a security breach, and I think we should push the operation back a few days.”
“What kind of breach?”
“Someone broke into the place where we were keeping our supplies.”
“Was anything stolen?”
“No, but . . .”
“Delaying the event is out of the question,” the voice said.
“Okay. But Heinrich has become a liability. I can complete the operation alone.”
“Give me a minute,” the man on the other end of
the call said.
Dudiyn exited the van and walked around it, checking each door. The flashlight picked up a glint on the bumper he hadn’t seen before. He unlocked the back and directed his light onto the floor. He saw a shiny line from the rear of the van to the bumper. Holding the phone to his ear, he walked quickly back to the house, passing a couple of people who gave him curious looks because he wore no coat.
“Are you still there?” the voice asked.
“Yes. What do you want me to do?”
“We don’t want anything to interfere with our timetable. But on the other matter, use your best judgment. Is that clear?”
“Yes. Very.”
A second car was in Heinrich’s driveway, a late-model Corvette. So Dudiyn used the remote to let himself into the garage. He looked around to assure himself that nothing had been disturbed, then remembered the silver residue he’d seen in the back of the van. One of the containers of aluminum powder must be leaking. He squatted next to the phony bleach bottles and examined the bottoms of the cases until he found one with a small puncture at its base. Odd. He got the duct tape, tore off a small piece to cover the opening, and replaced the container in the case. He turned on the light at the workbench and hunkered over it, adjusting surgical loupe glasses behind his ears and turning on his soldering iron. The sound of a woman laughing wafted into the garage. Have your fun while you can, Casanova. In the morning, he would swap the van for the church vehicle, and Heinrich would help him load the shrapnel-filled PVC tubes. By this time tomorrow, he would be mixing the chemicals and attaching the phone circuitry; then right under the noses of the security people at Cobo, he’d plant the bombs. He had to give Heinrich credit for the idea of a diversionary tactic: They would place small amounts of the chemical mix in the planters around the visitor areas at Cobo. That would keep the police, feds, and the investigators busy late into the night while the Spectrum staff unwittingly helped put the plan into motion.
He’d been working a half hour when he got the tickle behind his ear. Over the years, he’d come to trust the signal that someone was watching him. He looked over his shoulder toward the curtained window in the kitchen door and thought he saw a head bob out of sight. He removed the heavy-lensed glasses he wore and spun his stool to face the portal, remaining in that position for two minutes, listening and watching, before he turned back to the bench to finish his work.
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