Читать книгу One Last Kiss - Mary Wilbon - Страница 16

At eleven thirty-eight Monday morning, Travis Bodine was fourth in line to enter the Jonathan C. Dooley IRS building at Newark’s Federal Plaza. He put his briefcase on the conveyor belt to get X-rayed and stepped through the metal detector. There were no alarms or buzzers.

The gorgeous blond security guard who handed the briefcase back to him smiled and said, “Have a good day.”

Travis let his hand linger on hers. The heat coming from her was like a blast furnace. He could almost taste the heat.

When he took the case from her, he could see the smile fade, but something warm stayed in her eyes.

Travis started toward the elevator but looked back at the blonde. She was busy with other items on the conveyor belt.

Travis looked at her ass. It was a great ass, supported by long shapely legs.

It was an ass a God-fearing man could fall down on his knees and worship. He felt a twitching in his stomach, and lower. He’d love to plunge himself into that ass, get lost in it. Riding her while she screamed. Making her born again. And again and again.

Travis whistled softly and sincerely hoped she took her lunch break away from the building. He looked at his watch. The bomb would go off in a half hour. He walked to the elevator and pushed the UP button. The doors opened; no one was inside, and no one got in with him. The doors were about to close when a cane stopped them.

A blind black woman tapped her way in, led by the smallest seeing-eye dog Travis had ever seen. What the hell kind of freaky little poofy dog was that, anyway?

He felt momentarily unsure, then let it go. The woman was blind, after all. She felt the braille buttons and pushed number nine.

The elevator started to rise.

The little dog started to sniff the briefcase; then it grabbed hold of Travis’s pant leg and wouldn’t let go. The dog wasn’t being hostile. It held on playfully, like it would a favorite old sock.

Annoyed, he could have easily kicked the dog away but decided against it. He didn’t want to attract more attention to himself.

Maybe this black bitch would survive the blast, and even though she was blind, he didn’t want to give her more to remember.

He remained focused on why he was there and tolerated the little mutt. Maybe the anger-management course had done some good after all.

The black woman tried to stop the dog but couldn’t make it let go of Travis’s leg.

“Bad girl,” she kept saying over and over in between apologies.

The elevator made its way up, passing the second, third, fourth, and fifth floors without taking on any other passengers.

When the elevator reached the sixth floor, it stopped suddenly with a bounce and a thud, and then all the lights went out. They were enveloped in darkness.

The only relief was a dim margin of light that filtered in somehow from above the elevator car.

“What’s happening?” the blind woman asked nervously. Her dog started to get agitated and began growling in the dark.

“Power failure,” Travis answered tersely. He cursed himself for not having thought of this possibility.

Travis stayed calm. He looked at his watch. Ten minutes remained before the detonator would engage.

Several moments passed. Travis could feel the time slipping away.

The woman became increasingly frantic. The dog was now barking excitedly. She picked it up to calm it down and held it close.

They all stayed silent in the darkness.

Tick, tick, tick…

“What’s taking so long?” she asked eventually. “Why isn’t someone coming for us?”

Travis started to assess his terrible reality. The briefcase was going to explode soon, and he knew with breath-crushing certainty he was going to die. He began to feel fevered. Panic was taking hold of him. His mind was unraveling. His heart was jackhammering.

He lunged for the elevator operating panel, pushing the buttons like mad, trying to get the elevator started again; then he tried the emergency phone.

It was dead.

“What are you doing?” the blind woman screamed.

“I’ve got to get out of here.” Travis had started to cry.

He was pounding furiously on the elevator doors. “I’ve got a bomb. It’s going to explode.”

“What!” the woman yelled at him.

“My briefcase! It’s a bomb!”

“What! You made a bomb and brought it here?”

“Yes! Yes, I did,” Travis slobbered through his tears. “Jesus help me! I’ve got to get out of here.”

Sweat ran down the back of his neck, across his forehead, and from his underarms down the length of his sides. His knees began to feel like they would soon fold.

Slick removed her sunglasses and smiled. “That sounds like a confession to me.”

She walked to the elevator security camera and said, “I hope you guys got all of that.”

Travis turned to look at her in disbelief. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m a detective. And you’ve just confessed to trying to bomb a federal building. But dry your eyes there, Firecracker. The bomb squad is standing by just on the other side of those doors.”

Slick addressed the camera again. “Okay. He’s confessed. You can let us out now.”

The elevator didn’t move. The doors didn’t open.

Slick pounded hard on the walls. “Let us out. NOW.”

Nothing happened.

Slick picked up the elevator phone. “Oh, my God. This really isn’t working.”

Travis saw her frown with concern. There was fear in her eyes, and he knew something was very wrong.

Slick remembered Laura’s concern that she would make a mistake.

“How much time would you say is left?” Slick asked hoarsely.

Travis looked at his watch.

“About eight minutes.”

“OH, SHIT!” Slick shouted, and started to pound wildly on the doors. Travis started to pound with her.

They tried uselessly to pry the doors apart and yelled at the top of their lungs for help. Their desperate pounding and raw shouts went unheard and did nothing but blast back from the steel walls and echo in the elevator.

They stopped yelling, accepting that it was useless. The motionlessness was maddening.

Travis looked back in nauseated horror at the briefcase. The blood drained from his face. His bowels let loose just as the briefcase exploded.

KA–BOOM!

The briefcase erupted with a resounding roar. Confetti blasted from its insides and flurried down. Then Travis passed out.

Slick made sure Garbo was okay. The dog’s stubby little tail was wagging happily as she leapt at the confetti, trying to catch it. Slick brushed the confetti from her hair and clothes.

“Now will you let me out of here?” Slick asked loudly. “Bodine just dropped a stink bomb. Tell Laura I trust her with my life, and tell Sam he owes me one hundred dollars. I knew this weasel would lose it if he got a taste of his own medicine.”

“We’re on our way,” Slick heard through the tiny receiver in her ear.

“Good job. Very good job.” The man speaking on the other end of the receiver sounded pleased.

Forty-five minutes later, the Newark police were taking Travis Bodine, stinking, spent, and hyperventilating, into custody. As he was driven away, he saw the blind black woman from the elevator and the gorgeous blond security guard, smiling at him and waving good-bye.

It took a few seconds, but Travis Bodine realized what had happened to him. These two bitches had taken him down. He became enraged. He couldn’t beat on the window of the cruiser, because his hands were cuffed, so he started head-butting the window and cursing them.

“Bitches! Bitches! Fucking bitches! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!”

The officer sitting in the back loved it. He was waiting for an opportunity. With great pleasure he Tasered Travis, who folded like a lawn chair.

The cruiser was silent again.

When he was gone from sight, Laura said to Slick, “I thought for sure he’d notice that I switched the briefcases.”

“I knew for sure he’d be too busy noticing you,” Slick said, winking at her. “You were perfect, Laura. I knew you would be. I remembered how scared you were that you’d make a mistake. I knew you wouldn’t. You’ve got to learn to trust yourself as much as I trust you.”

Slick kissed her on the cheek.

“I’m just glad it’s over,” Laura said, closing her eyes, leaning in and enjoying having her cheek kissed.

The receiver in Slick’s ear began to crackle.

“We’re still watching you.”

Slick laughed.

“Nice working with you, Commander,” she answered back. She wondered where he was. He could see and hear her every move, but Slick had no idea from where he was observing her.

“Congratulations on a very successful operation,” the commander said. “You helped avert a crisis and capture a dangerous man who was on the way to becoming an even more serious threat. Now his ass is ours. We’ll take real good care of Bodine from here.”

“I’m sure you will, sir.”

Travis had been arrested by the Newark police, but after they were through with him, he’d be turned over to the Feds. The Feds didn’t like terrorists who tried to blow up federal buildings.

The receiver in her ear crackled one last time. She knew the connection was being broken and that it would be un-traceable.

Slick pulled it out of her ear, threw it into the street as she had been instructed, and watched as a taxi ran over it, smashing it into useless pieces.

Smiling, she looked up to the roofs of the surrounding buildings, and the sharpshooters who had camped out there since midnight were giving them a thumbs-up.

Slick and Laura nodded surreptitiously so as not to give away their positions.

On the street, a dirty, rusted-out van with ST. MARK’S HOMELESS SHELTER printed on the side pulled up. The van lacked a rear bumper, and the passenger side window was mostly duct tape. The engine, however, maintained a steady healthy rumble. The Critical Incident team that had been stationed on the ground disguised as drunks and street people disappeared inside the vehicle.

The van pulled away and disappeared into the morning. No one on the street even seemed to notice. It was as if they were never there.

By the time Slick and Laura looked back up, the rooftops that had been speckled with dozens of men looking through rifle scopes had been cleared, too. Slick had heard the commander once refer to them as Alpha Team. They were probably getting ready for their next mission.

A major disaster had been avoided quietly and professionally, without panic. And there would never be a news story or report about it. No one would recognize Alpha Team for the heroes they were.

Perfect. That was just the way they wanted it.

“Damn, those guys are good,” Slick said with admiration.

Garbo stood on her hind legs, demanding Slick’s attention.

“Yes, little girl. You were wonderful, too. You kept Bodine distracted after Laura switched the briefcase.”

Slick bent down to give Garbo a biscuit, and the three of them started across the street. Slick stopped at a Star Ledger vending machine, bought a paper, and read the headline.

NEW JERSEY SENATORIAL RACE HEATS UP

Nothing like New Jersey politics, she thought. Slick drew in a long deep breath. “Let’s go home,” she said.

“Let’s,” Laura agreed. “We’ve got some shopping and packing to do for our vacation.”

They started walking to Slick’s car, a Mercedes SLK350 with a sticker on the window announcing that she was a retired police officer, a gift from one of her pals on the job that prevented her from being ticketed for any but the most flagrant parking violations.

It also kept would-be car thieves away. They saw the sticker and decided it was a bad idea to steal an ex-cop’s car.

In the distance, a police car with its siren blaring approached. It snaked and zigzagged its way through the heavy midmorning traffic.

One by one, drivers swerved reflexively to let it pass.

Slick and Laura looked startled as it stopped in front of them.

A young police officer got out of the car. “Detective Slick?”

After years off the force, the police still addressed her as “Detective” out of respect. And after all these years, Slick still cherished hearing it.

“Yes, Officer. How can I help you?”

“Captain DeStasio sent us to bring you to the station.”

Slick started to ask why her old precinct captain would be sending for her, but before she could ask, the young officer continued. “All I can tell you, Detective, is that it’s about a murder. Some Halsey Street hooker went and got herself killed.”

The young officer hesitated and looked away momentarily, then finished. His youthful voice was low and strained. “Could be someone on the job is involved.”

Without saying another word, Slick opened the back door of the patrol car and helped Laura and Garbo inside. She walked to the other side and let herself in.

The car worked its way back into traffic with the lights flashing and the siren screaming.

Inside the car was total silence. No one spoke.

Slick did a quick study of the young officer in the front seat. His appearance was impeccable. Uniform clean and crisp. Hair cut to regulation. Great physical condition. His eyes were forward and focused. He hadn’t expected to work in Newark, but when he got the assignment, he didn’t turn it down, because he thought he could make a difference. He argued with his young wife about it. She wanted kids, a house at the shore.

He was doing his job, but it was easy to see he was despondent. He hadn’t heard that sometimes the cops were suspected of being the bad guys.

Yeah, he knew about Abner Louima and Amadou Diallo, but those were not the norm for police officers. Those incidents were aberrations.

He was probably fresh out of the academy, Slick thought, filled with the rookie’s altruistic ideal that the cops were always right and good.

He couldn’t believe that the people he worked with could be guilty of anything more than taking a free meal from a restaurant once in a while.

Slick knew exactly how he felt. She looked out the window at the same old Newark streets that she remembered so well.

Halsey Street.

Broad Street.

Frelinghuysen Avenue.

Ferry Street.

The movie theaters, the barbecue joints, the check-cashing places, the jazz clubs.

The squad car seemed to be carrying Slick swiftly into her past.

She shut her eyes, remembering how she had gotten this far and the first time she saw a police badge.