He kept digging until he could lift the plastic box out of its hole, set it down on the warm surface sand, and open it by stripping away a layer of duct tape that ran along the side seam. He disconnected the thick wire that carried the electrical power that probably fed off the house’s 110-volt circuit, and then explored with his fingers what was left in the box. It was a blasting cap stuck into a few pounds of Semtex with one of its two wires connected to the power wire and the other back out. The way the charge was wired, a switch in the house could set off a mine, or maybe blow a whole row at one time.
He dug at the next place where he found thin wires spliced to the main cable, which was about ten feet away, then disconnected them and unearthed another box. He took up a third, and realized it was not going to be possible to disconnect them all before dawn. Out of caution he examined the next row of shrubs, and realized this row had very thin wire strung about two inches above the ground between very small eye screws in the trunk of each shrub, so a man walking through would trip the wire and be blown up.
If he hadn’t been here looking for booby traps, he probably wouldn’t have suspected that the wires were a trigger. They looked like the sort of guide a gardener might string to show him where to plant his shrubs.
He studied the second row. There would be a number of buried bombs here. He guessed there would be bounding mines, like the ones that had been used to kill Ed Carmody. A whole assault squad of cops could be killed that way without an explosion big enough to do much harm to the house. Stahl decided that if he lived, he would blow them up in place.
The lights in the house were on, but the shades and curtains were drawn. He was positive now that this was the place he guessed months ago must exist somewhere. He had favored the theory that the bomber was a loner rather than a terrorist, someone acting out of personal malevolence. The men Stahl had followed here had proved the loner theory wrong.
He stacked the three boxes of explosives, picked them up, and carried them along the trail of footprints he had made coming from Diane’s car. When he got there he set them down carefully, opened the hood of the car, and began to work. He was pleased to see that the tape the bomber had used to seal the plastic boxes was still very sticky and functional. He also noted that this bomber always used more tape and wire than he needed, possibly to avoid the chance of having a circuit’s wires get jostled taut and disconnect. It wasn’t just the device’s high explosive and blasting caps that could be reused.
48
The bomb maker was lying on the garage floor, his wrists and ankles bound with heavy-gauge wire and duct tape from his own workshop.
The terrorists had completed their inventory of his munitions, his supplies, and his devices. They were carrying the devices, one by one, from the garage into the three black vehicles and his van and his sedan.
As they worked, he tried to talk to them. “You don’t have to do this. There’s no reason to panic and think we have to launch the attack right away. If they had found you or traced you here, they would never have let you get this far. What you’re trying to do is very dangerous for you. I can do it safely.”
One of the men, who was with some trepidation carrying a device that weighed about eighty pounds, said, “Shut up.”
The bald man came out of the kitchen eating a sandwich he had made from food in the bomb maker’s refrigerator.
The bomb maker felt a hot wave of irritation wash over him, but reminded himself he didn’t need any of that food. He had always planned to get out of Southern California the minute the first charges began to explode all over the city.
The bald man stared at him, chewing thoughtfully.
The bomb maker knew he had to be strong and prove he was still valuable, not a sad, craven victim, if he wanted to live through this. He said, “I’ve forgiven you for losing control of your emotions before. That was understandable. If you’ll give me the money I was promised, I’ll still set all the big devices and place them. They’ll be set at the most strategic spots and they’ll demolish their targets. They’ll be incredible. I guarantee a thousand or more dead.”
“Forget the money,” the bald man said. “Do you see ten million dollars on me? It’s not here, and I have no way to get it. The money is over. Everything goes today.”
“You won’t be able to do it.”
The bald man smiled. “Why do you think we would hire you to kill off the Bomb Squad and not, say, the SWAT team, or the chief, or something? We’re all trained in demolition. We can set a bomb ourselves.”
“That’s even better. Pay me whatever you can, and let me go, and I’ll tell you how each device works.”
“I’ll take the chance of setting the big charges off by putting little ones beside them. That’s simple enough even for men who aren’t geniuses like you.”
“But you don’t have to do this yourself. I’ll do it better because I’ve spent years studying it, and I designed all of them,” said the bomb maker. “Every one of them is designed to fool the Bomb Squad. You could have men killed with our own devices.”
The bald man finished his last bite of sandwich, chewed it, and swallowed. “I once saw a man kill a dog in a desert. He didn’t need to shoot it or poison it. He took duct tape just like the kind wrapped around your arms. Then he taped the dog’s mouth shut so he couldn’t cool his body temperature. It’s hot outside here too.”
The bomb maker fell silent.
Stahl had finished his work, and now he returned to watching the house from a distance. There was something different going on. Two more vehicles that had been parked somewhere in the dark area far behind the house had been moved up, and now there were men walking out a back door carrying things to the five vehicles, loading them into the cargo spaces, and then going back inside for more. He moved around to the far side of Diane’s car, sat down, and called Bart Almanzo.
“Captain Almanzo’s line.” It was Diane’s voice.
Stahl stiffened. “Hey! What are you doing on this phone?”
“The captain’s busy driving and my hands are free. Didn’t you know I was in the car with him? I was the one who installed the program on his phone so we could follow you. Are you still okay?”
“Yes,” he said. “I was better when I thought you were home surrounded by cops. Where are you?”
“We’re just about to Victorville. We’ve got the local police briefed for this, but it’s taking them time to call in their SWAT teams and get everybody moving. The teams are a way behind us.”
Stahl blew out his breath without forming words.
“What’s wrong?”
“The men I followed seem to be moving stuff into their vehicles. There are five now, including a van and a four-door car.”
Diane said, “We’ll get to you pretty soon. No more than twenty minutes.”
“Not soon enough,” Stahl said. “These men are all up, all heavily armed, and by now they’re rested, fed, and ready. If the police show up now, it’s not going to be a raid. It’ll be a battle. And this guy has the land around his house mined. Judging from the wiring, I think he can set at least some of the mines off with switches in the house. Others are booby-trapped.”
“Oh, great,” said Diane. “You were digging up mines in the dark? Just sit tight, and we’ll be there.”
“Don’t come roaring in here. As soon as you see the lights in the distance, turn yours off and pull over. Call the locals to let them know what’s waiting for them.”
He hung up. The stream of men going back and forth between the house and the vehicles had dwindled. Now there seemed to be a couple of men standing by the open doors of the vehicles, talking and fiddling with their equipment. He saw one man insert a fresh magazine into a rifle. He had to act before they left.