Page 23 of South of Nowhere (Colter Shaw #5)

23.

The team—Colter decided it was a reasonable description—returned from the motel to the command post, where Sergeant Tamara Olsen was sitting and speaking on the phone. When she saw Colter, she smiled, before noting his somber expression.

Colter said, “We confirmed explosives.”

“Sabotage,” she whispered.

He added that they had not ruled out the possibility that the perps, whoever they were, had placed additional explosives farther down in the levee, which had misfired or were meant to explode later.

“Christ,” she muttered as her shocked eyes went to the levee. “And Corporal McPherson…”

The soldier who had just been in the water perhaps exactly where those charges were.

She turned her eyes to Colter. “You got him out in time. Thank you.”

Tolifson was finishing a call in the cab of his truck. He disconnected and joined the others. “Talked to the FBI. Have to say the response was underwhelming. They asked if we knew there was another live IED, and I had to say no. But we thought there might be. And…” He sighed. “When he asked how we knew it was an explosion, I sort of…”

No, he didn’t.

He winced. “Mentioned the bees. Which was greeted with some silence. They said they’d send somebody. But it was not ‘We’re sending some agents!’ it was ‘Yeah, we’ll send some agents…’”

The lack of emphasis was clear.

“ATF?”

Though still known by that trio of initials, the organization had recently changed its name to the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives.

“Same thing.”

Olsen said, “Think it’s extortion? They blow the top, send a blackmail note and if we don’t give ’em the money or Bitcoins or whatever they want, they blow the rest of it?”

Dorion asked, “But then why are they waiting to send the note?”

Tolifson said, “Hold on.” He placed a call and had a brief discussion. He disconnected and looked up. “That was Marissa Fell, in the office. She would’ve forwarded ransom emails or told me about the phone calls right away. But I thought she should check for mysterious letters or packages. None, though.”

Colter asked, “Anybody with a score to settle with Hinowah? You come down hard on a meth dealer or gangbanger?”

Again, Tolifson regarded Starr, who said, “No.” Then she had a thought. “But is there something we wouldn’t’ve heard of in Public Safety? Something civil?” She was speaking to Tolifson. “Any run-ins with land rights issues or zoning with corporations?”

Colter and Dorion shared a look.

Their father had surely been paranoid but one thing that he had not imagined, a particular corporation was headed up by a CEO who was more than willing to murder—in his case to pave the way so that the corporation itself could actually run for political office.

Tolifson considered this. “No, just your basic planning and zoning issues. Small time. Mostly residential or retail.”

The young officer continued, “Any strike marks against the city? Something racial or ethnic? Prejudice, you know.”

“God no,” he said. “Hinowah? Why did you think of that?”

“Saw a movie. Bad Day at Black Rock . Whole town was behind a racist killing. And, let’s face it, Hinowah is not the most diverse town on the face of the earth.”

Tolifson said, “Well, no. And don’t bring up stuff like that. Rumors get started that way.”

“Yessir.”

Tamara Olsen stepped away and made a phone call. A moment later, still holding the mobile, she said, “I’m talking to my commander. If you want I can arrange for some bomb curtains.”

Colter was familiar with the huge blankets of chain or steel mesh. They were placed over the ground by construction crews during foundation blasting to keep stone shrapnel from flying through the air. “It’s a good idea. If there are more explosives, curtains’ll limit the damage. And even if there aren’t, they’ll slow the erosion.”

Tolifson asked, “How soon can you get them here?”

She continued her conversation, then disconnected, turning back to the others.

“Choppers’re still socked in. Ceiling goes up another five hundred feet, they’ll be in the air. They’ll pick up the curtains at the depot in Oakland, be here in a half hour.”

Then Debi Starr was shaking her head as she gazed out over the levee. “What’s your opinion, Colter? Misfire or it’s still live and somebody’s waiting to blow the rest?”

Colter said, “No idea. But I know one easy way to find out.”

Tolifson, Starr and Olsen looked his way.

“Figure out who’s behind it and ask them.”