Sign of the Maker (Boston Crime Thriller Book 4) Brian Shea (black authors fiction txt) 📖

terminal. Patrol had evacuated the station and was working to set a four-block perimeter, not knowing the package’s potential. It was an all-hands-on-deck situation. Units were being pulled from across the city and staggered along the various points of the Red Line leading from Harvard Square to Braintree, including Kelly and his team.

"Something's wrong with this." Kelly broke the silent tension between the two men. His sirens blared, but not to the deafening degree of a patrol car, making it easier to communicate. They were riding toward the Code 99, the BPD radio brevity code reserved only for the most dangerous of calls. He slowed and alternated the siren's wail as they cleared an intersection in the department-issued Caprice.

"What do you mean something's wrong?"

"It just feels off. The last three, we never saw coming. Hell, we've been three steps behind this guy since the start. And now you're telling me he suddenly got sloppy? Doesn't add up. Not in my book."

"That's how these things work. Everybody screws up. We don't catch the smart ones. The smart ones, they find a way. Take the Unabomber. Guy was a genius. How long was his wanted poster hung? You know the one I'm talking about—the sketch artist’s rendering of him with the hood up and sunglasses. I think anybody who was alive at the time would be able to call to mind that image. Even with that, it was years before he was located. Do you know why that is? Because he was smart. But we eventually found him. That's because everybody, no matter their intelligence, eventually screws up. The smart ones just take longer to do it."

"I don't think this guy is making mistakes yet."

"Well, he already made a giant mistake by keeping that bartender alive. Thanks to you, we've already got a decent description being ginned up with our sketch artist."

"I know, but..."

"What? You think it’s not our guy? Downtown Crossing makes sense to me. A central hub. The Red and Orange Lines overlap, meaning more commuters. More commuters means more potential casualties. Also, it's one of McLaughlin's stops on his planned T commute to Braintree."

"Yeah. It's definitely a major hub. And you're absolutely right about the merger between the Orange and Red Lines. Everything looks like it works from a targeting standpoint. Take out a support column and you've got the potential for a major structural collapse. But my concern is in why. Why did he leave it in the open? And maybe more importantly, why didn't it go off?"

"Hopefully Mills can explain it, but I'm guessing our guy set it to detonate when McLaughlin came through." Langston shrugged. "She told me a while back that an intact bomb is worth its weight in gold. I guess examining the innerworkings of a device is like getting an inside look at a bombmaker’s brain. It takes the understanding to another level."

"I guess it might give us a much higher probability of snagging a print, maybe even some DNA."

"Doubtful on the print. Just sayin'. Guy like this is probably going to be pretty anal-retentive about direct contact. But the DNA might be there. Lots of work goes into making a bomb. That means lots of opportunity for a bit of touch DNA. Maybe we'll get lucky? This could be what we’re looking for."

"I don't like it."

"You keep saying that."

"See it from my perspective." Kelly jammed the brakes as an elderly woman stepped into the crosswalk ahead of him. "Where is every cop in the city going right now?"

"Downtown Crossing subway station."

"Why?"

"Because we got a suspicious package call on the same line McLaughlin's schedule has him using. Our guys missed catching up with him at Harvard by a matter of minutes. That means McLaughlin is somewhere on the Red Line. And if he's past Downtown Crossing's stop, then we've got a really big problem."

"I can't get hold of Hodges since we last talked. It's now going straight to voicemail. McLaughlin's secretary said she hasn't been able to reach them either. If they’re on a train, they could be in a dead spot in the tunnel. Not to mention the strain on the cellular networks." Kelly's phone was issued by the department and on a separate carrier specifically geared toward law enforcement. AT&T had won the bidding war for that contract after 9/11. The goal of FirstNet was to create a service capable of handling the call and data overload during a mass casualty event. Although it didn't do any good right now for reaching Hodges, who didn't have the service.

The old woman in the crosswalk dropped her glove and was fumbling around the asphalt, completely oblivious to the unmarked police car trying to get by. Kelly whipped the wheel and cut a path around her.

"It's going to take the bomb squad a little time to figure things out,” Kelly said. “They're just getting the perimeter locked down. Then you've got the trains on the Red Line that were stopped before they arrived at the station, with passengers being diverted to a safe distance. The trains that already came through were allowed to continue on, figuring it was better to get as much distance from downtown as possible. As far as I’m concerned, not knowing which side of the station McLaughlin is on right now creates a whole different set of issues."

"I see what you're getting at. If what the secretary said is right and he cut his presentation short, he would have been slightly ahead of his planned schedule. There’s a high probability he could have gotten through."

"Exactly. All the outbound trains from Downtown Crossing were allowed to continue while the cops converge on downtown." Kelly tossed his cell to Langston. "I've got the MBTA mobile app; pull up the Red Line's schedule."

Langston's thick fingers mashed the face of Kelly's phone and a few seconds later a live interactive map display illuminated the screen. "Got it."

"See when the next few trains arrive at Braintree."

"The next four trains are staggered at about six-minute intervals,