Page 12 of Denied Access

“Love that for you. Maybe think faster?”

“I don’t know how to disarm a bomb. Do you?”

“Of course not, but I’m not the one who said we should take a look. Remember?”

Joe did remember and that decision was beginning to feel dumber by the second. He had to imagine that whoever had planted the device had done so with the intention of detonating it. He had assumed that the trigger would be linked to a timer of some sort, but he didn’t see anything that looked like a clock. Nor did the bomb appear to have buttons or dials that would enable someone to set a countdown timer.

Maybe he was approaching the problem the wrong way.

“You’re a radio guy, right?” Joe said.

“And a theater major. I also have a decent singing voice, but I’m not sure any of that’s gonna be super beneficial at the moment.”

“Stay with me, jackwagon. Could this thing be designed to be detonated remotely? Like with a radio?”

David shrugged. “Possibly. Lemme take a look.”

That David hadn’t dismissed his hypothesis outright seemed like a good sign. Or maybe the new operator was just happy to have something to think about besides what it would feel like to be disemboweled by a piece of ten-gauge galvanized steel. And if the nails or concussiveshock wave didn’t kill him outright, he could always look forward to being burned alive courtesy of whatever accelerant was probably sloshing around in the glass bottle.

Maybe David wasn’t the only one who needed something to focus on.

“I don’t see any antennas, so it’s probably not radio-operated. I’ve heard of bombs that were configured to use pagers or cell phones as receivers, but I don’t see those either. Maybe there’s something at the back of the bomb. Should I take a peek?”

In for a penny, in for a pound. “Yeah, but try not to jostle it too much. Sometimes they have anti-tamper devices.”

“Care to specify what constitutestoo much? Never mind, it’s probably better if I don’t know.” David balled his hands into fists and then shook them out. “Here goes nothing.” The thespian cleared his throat. “We few, we happy few, we band of brothers.”

“What are you doing?” Joe said.

“I quote fromHenry Vwhen I’m nervous. Want me to pick a different stanza?”

“Maybe just concentrate on the bomb?”

“If you’d like to switch places, say the word.”

Joe bit back his reply and tried to remember that David was a newbie operator on his shakedown trip. Aside from the snide comments and weird theatrical tics, he wasn’t doing half bad.

“Gonna take that as a no,” David said. “All right, I’m leaning into the cubby to see if I can see the backside of the device. Here we go—”

Aboomshook the room.

Fortunately, it was the boom of the bathroom door slamming against its frame as someone tried to gain entry. Unfortunately, that distinction seemed lost on David. A second boom followed closely on the heels of the first. A boom caused by the newbie operator’s skull smashing against the wooden enclosure.

“Mother of God,” David said. “I—”

Joe shouted in Russian, hoping to drown out his partner’s English.

“Why did you say that?” David hissed.

“I told whoever’s pounding on the door that the bathroom’s occupied,” Joe whispered back.

“No, you did not.”

The thunderous laughter from the far side of the door seemed to confirm David’s statement. No matter. The bar’s patrons had just witnessed two men head into a single bathroom together. Whatever faux pas Joe had committed would only serve to help their cover.

Probably.

“Nothing on the back side either,” David said. “I stand by my earlier statement that I don’t know shit about bombs, but I don’t see anything that looks like a receiver or timer. Maybe you’re right about the detonator being rigged to some kind of anti-tamper device. Didn’t the Russians do that in Afghanistan?”