Déjà-BOOM!

by Wally Duff

“I talked to them.”

  WHAT?!

  I felt my face burn. “You were supposed to stay in the room,” I said.

  “Yeah, but see, I get bored easily.”

  “Boy, is that a big surprise,” Cas said.

  “But anyway, it was hot, so I took them some bottled water. They, like, totally needed it.”

  My stomach began to churn. “You didn’t say anything about the bomber, did you?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What does that even mean?” Cas asked.

  “I did mention the other bombings to see how they felt about them.”

  We remained silent.

  “They said firebombing a clinic might be okay if no one was injured, but to them, blowing up a doctor is unacceptable.”

  “How about shooting a doctor?” I asked.

  “Same. They’re not into hurting people.”

  “And your conclusion?” Cas asked.

  “None of them are connected to our guy,” Molly said.

  105

  On the way home from Molly’s, I had time to call Tony.

  “Anything?” I asked.

  “Had the bomb guy go back into the clinic before it closed just to be sure everything is still clean.”

  My heart began to pound in my chest. “And?”

  “Didn’t find squat.”

  “I don’t know whether that’s good or bad.”

  “All it means is you have to pay close attention tomorrow.”

  “Don’t worry. We will.”

  “Finally got the report back from the FBI lab comparing the C4 from Arlington with the bombings here. Confirmed a match.”

  “Not a big surprise. What about the C4 I took from Jamie’s apartment?”

  “Not back yet. Our lab guys are working it off the clock as a favor to me, and it’s gonna take a while.”

  “What about the DNA sample I snagged from the shooter’s bathroom? Did it match the bomber’s DNA from Arlington?”

  There were blood spatters in Arlington that couldn’t be accounted for and presumably came from the bomber. If that DNA matched the sample from the shooter’s bathroom, we had positive proof the Arlington bomber and the Chicago-area bomber/sniper were the same man.

  “Not unless I’m the bomber and the shooter.”

  “What?”

  “Was my DNA on the sink. Captain wasn’t happy. Almost took me off the case after he saw the report. Hates to have us contaminate a crime scene.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Anything you forgot to tell me about the C4 on those trash samples you gave me?”

  “Why?”

  “Could somebody have planted it?”

  I hesitated a few seconds to focus on that night.

  “The cop who caught me said the alarm had gone off two times,” I said. “I only set it off once. If it went off two times, then I guess anyone else could have triggered it the first time and planted the stuff I stole. Why are you asking about that now?”

  “Tying up some loose ends on that case.”

  “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  “Lots of things I’m not going to tell you, just like you do with me, but there’s one difference…” he said. “When I catch your bomber, I’ll give you an exclusive interview.”

  And I would put up with his BS to finish my story.

  106

  Friday night, a cloud cover obliterated the sun, which normally would have lit up the street until at least 8 p.m. To further complicate visibility, a light rain fell, and the ever-present Chicago wind blew off Lake Michigan.

  Streetlights provided some illumination, but less than half of them worked. The multicolored blinking lights from the neon signs outside the three bars on the block didn’t help much.

  The clinic closed at 5 p.m. David had the last shift and was already in the room. Everyone else except Brittany rode together in a Lyft. She arrived in an Uber.

  I noticed two empty bags neatly folded in the hallway outside the room. When we walked in, we found David behind his computer watching the screen.

  I asked him about the carriers in the hallway.

  “This is all going to be over soon,” he said. “I don’t want to leave Hogan’s equipment here any longer than I have to.”

  From the stress lines on his face, there was no way he was going to watch the events unfold from the windows.

  “Did you see the bomb squad guy?” I asked.

  “A man wearing a scrub suit entered at 4:15. He just left. I checked his photograph against the Chicago PD database. He’s one of theirs.”

  “Great. Anything else?”

  “Not that I could see, and I’m pretty sure I didn’t miss anything.”

  “Then we’re good to go?” I asked.

  “As good as we can be.”

  “When do the police arrive?” Cas asked.

  “I talked to Tony this afternoon,” I said. “His boss finally agreed to send a SWAT team. They’re deployed in a garage two blocks away.”

  David looked up from his computer screen. “Why so far?”

  “Not sure, but maybe they’ll move in closer when the bomber calls the clinic.”

  The room was silent. At least no one said “if” he called.

  David held up the police monitor phone. “Does Tony know we’re going to monitor his transmissions with this?”

  “You know me better than that,” I said. “I didn’t bust you out.”

  “Thanks for that, but I better begin to find the proper frequency or we’ll miss everything.”

  He did, and we waited. Finally, a low-pitched woman’s voice came on. “A man called the doctor’s answering service at 17:32. As per our protocol with them, the call was transferred to me. He told me his girlfriend had an abortion earlier this week and was now bleeding.”

  Tony’s voice came on. “Copy that. Anything else?”

  “I told him I would contact Dr. Romano. I waited fifteen minutes before I called the man back. I told him Dr. Romano had called in and he would meet the man and his girlfriend at the clinic as soon as they could get there.” The woman paused. “Looks like we’re a go.”

  “Rollin’,” Tony said.

  Yes!

  107

  “You SWAT guys ready?” the woman with the low-pitched voice asked.

  “We’re moving,” a male voice said. “The bomb unit just arrived. I’ll deploy my men. When we’re in position, I’ll give you a heads up.”

  Everyone but David peeked out of the window.

  “I don’t understand why that lady cop acting like the actual answering service waited fifteen minutes to call the man back,” Brittany said.

  “I don’t either,” I said.

  “It was my suggestion,” Cas said. “Answering services have so many phone calls that they’re forced to contact doctors in the order in which the patient’s calls are received.”

  “And the bomber has done this before so he would immediately be suspicious if the usual system wasn’t followed,” David said.

  “You got it,” Cas said. “If the cop posing as the operator immediately called the bomber back, he would figure out something was wrong and disappear.”

  “Along with our story,” I said.

  I’d brought my binoculars, so I used them to scan all the buildings. There was the usual nighttime activity around the bars, but I didn’t see anything suspicious.

  I put the binoculars down. Molly picked them up. She busied herself by checking out the hookers walking on our side of the street.

  The radio crackled again. “Infantino, we’re in position.”

  “Copy that. Coming in.”

  “Boy, those SWAT guys are slick,” Cas said. “I never saw them.”

  “Let’s hope the bomber didn’t either,” Brittany said.

  “How does the bomb work anyway?” Molly asked.

  “C4 can be molded into any form and is inert without a detonator,” I said.

  “So without that thing, the C4 won’t explod
e.”

  “Not a chance.”

  Because of the heavy mist and intermittent rain, the headlights from Tony’s car were visible before I saw the car itself. He drove a new white Audi A8 that had been loaned to the Chicago PD by one of the auto dealers. Tony wanted to make himself look like a wealthy doctor.

  He parked in the reserved doctor’s parking slot at the side of the building. This space was partially shielded from us by some scraggly bushes.

  He had a lapel microphone and earpiece, so he was in continuous communication with the SWAT team.

  We could hear every word they said to each other.

  “Everybody ready?” Tony asked.

  “We’re good to go,” a male SWAT member said.

  “Gettin’ out of the car.”

  He opened the car door and stood up.

  Suddenly, there was a call over the police radio: “Stand down! There’s been an explosion at Mittelman’s lab! Repeat: There has been an explosion at the lab! Officers are down!”

  108

  “Goddamnit!” Tony growled. “In the wrong fucking place! Missed everything.” He paused. “Wrap it up and let’s get outta here.”

  “Copy that,” the same male SWAT member said.

  “Tina, what’s a detonator look like?” Molly asked.

  “The only one I’ve ever seen was built into a pen and pencil set,” I said. “But what difference does it make? We’ve wasted our time.”

  She pointed the binoculars at the clinic building. “Does it blink?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “There’s a green blinking thingy in those bushes by Tony’s leg.”

  Bushes?

  “Did anyone check the bushes?” I asked.

  “I have no idea,” David said.

  “Can we call Tony on that phone?” I asked.

  “Sorry, it’s only a monitor,” he said.

  I knocked the camera out of the way and struggled to open the window.

  “Cas, help me open this stupid window!”

  She did.

  “Tony, get out of there!” I screamed through the open window. “The bomb’s in the bushes!”

  Tony looked up at our room.

  A red dot weaved around on his forehead. It stopped. A shot boomed out from somewhere to my left.

  Tony’s head jerked back and blood flew into the air. He crumpled to the ground between the car and the bushes.

  Voices from the police monitor filled our tiny room. “Officer down! Officer down!” one voice screamed.

  “Where did that fucking shot come from?” another voice asked.

  “Did anyone see a muzzle flash?” a female voice asked.

  No one’s moving in to help him!

  The device is in the bushes.

  They’re too far away!

  The bomber will wait until the SWAT team gathers around Tony. And then he’ll detonate his bomb.

  It’ll kill everybody!

  I rushed out the apartment door and ran down the smelly stairs.

  I talked Tony into this!

  I ran toward him. The only sounds I heard were my feet pounding on the cement and my rapid breathing. I felt like I was alone, running in a dark, rainy tunnel.

  The blinking green light in the bushes was my goal. I sprinted straight toward it.

  C4 needs that detonator to work.

  I got to Tony first. His head was covered in blood. I wanted to reach down to help him.

  No time!

  I ripped the branches of the bush out of the way. There was a slim black box with the blinking green light on top of a much larger brown brick.

  The light stopped blinking and turned red.

  Do something!

  I grabbed the box and threw it as far as I could. There was a brilliant flash of light in the misty night. It was followed by a thunderous boom.

  109

  The acrid odor from the exploded detonator hung in the damp air. The rain fell harder. I turned and squatted down by Tony. He was flat on his back. His head was at a weird angle. He didn’t move.

  I don’t know what to do!

  I reached out toward him. Cas ran up to us.

  “Do not move his head,” she instructed, which was exactly what I was going to do.

  I pulled my hands back. She dropped down on her knees and stabilized his head and neck with one hand. She opened his mouth and checked his airway with the other.

  Her voice was matter-of-fact. “Put pressure on his wound.”

  “What?!”

  She sounded like a school teacher. “Put pressure on his head where he was shot.”

  I did. Blood oozed through my fingers. A copper odor enveloped us.

  Bile erupted into the back of my throat.

  “How hard do I press?”

  Her voice was calm. “Hard enough to stop the bleeding.”

  I felt a hand on my shoulder.

  “Let me help you with that.” A SWAT officer knelt down beside me and placed a pressure dressing on the side of Tony’s head.

  “We need an EMT,” Cas said. “If he stops breathing, we’ll need to bag him.”

  Stops breathing?!

  Several SWAT members deployed around us. They faced away from us, their guns pointing toward the buildings across the street.

  “Lady, this area isn’t secure,” the cop said. “We don’t know where the shooter is. Neither of you should be here.”

  Cas ignored his statement. So did I.

  “We have a problem,” she said, her voice still annoyingly calm. “He just stopped breathing. We need to bag him.”

  She didn’t seem all that excited. I felt like I was about to pee in my shorts.

  Two EMT techs ran up. They pushed the cop and me out of the way.

  “GSW to the right fronto-temporal area,” Cas said. “He just ceased spontaneous respirations.”

  The EMT techs pulled out equipment.

  “What about his neck?” one tech asked.

  “I’ll stabilize it. You bag him.”

  “Done.”

  The tech shoved a device in Tony’s mouth. He put a mask with an attached bag over Tony’s nose and mouth.

  Cas held Tony’s head steady. The tech squeezed the bag. Tony’s chest moved up and down. The other tech put a body board next to Tony. Blood soaked through the pressure dressing.

  “Bag him three more times, and then we move him to board,” Cas said.

  “Got it.”

  Cas continued to stabilize Tony’s neck as the two men slid Tony on the board.

  Cas strapped Tony’s head and neck to the board and secured it.

  The tech continued to use the apparatus to breathe for Tony. Cas grabbed a pair of scissors from the tech’s belt and slit both of Tony’s sleeves. The tech applied a blood pressure cuff to Tony’s right arm and pumped it up.

  “Ninety over sixty. Pulse 144.”

  “Need an IV,” the second tech said.

  My pulse felt like it was twice that high, but they were calm in a sea of madness.

  Cas swabbed something on Tony’s left arm. She wrapped a tourniquet around his muscular bicep. The tech handed a needle to her. She quickly inserted it. The tech secured the needle with a strip of tape and then hooked up plastic tubing to an IV bag.

  “Check his pupils,” Cas said.

  The tech wiped blood out of Tony’s eyes and flashed his light into them.

  “Divergent gaze. Right pupil sluggish.”

  “He needs a neurosurgeon right now,” Cas said.

  It was the first time I sensed tension in her voice.

  “Let’s move!” the first tech said.

  They picked up the board with Tony secured to it and put him on a gurney. Cas held the IV bag.

  I turned around and threw up into the bushes.