| 3A Victoria |
| The night before... Pulling a set of keys from his pocket, Tyson Bartlett half-crawled and half-ran up the back stairs of his dilapidated two-storey townhouse. The plaster cast on his left arm was heavy, and even the simplest task was exhausting. As he pulled open the screen door the light nylon jacket around his shoulders slipped down onto the step behind him. "Damn." Turning the key in the lock and kicking open the door, he shoved the coat through with his foot. This day had gone from bad to worse. It had taken almost five hours for the cops to finish grilling him about the explosion at Fisherman's Warf earlier that afternoon. He thought they'd never finish. The cop who had interviewed him was obviously a rookie. Tyson shook his head in amusement. That one was just a little bit too gung-ho about his job. Removing his boots and depositing them on the grimy kitchen floor, Tyson rushed to answer the phone. He dug under a pile of pizza boxes, magazines and discarded clothing before he finally found it. "Hello?" "Tyson?" "Yeah." "Where have you been son?" "Out." "You were supposed to be here half an hour ago." "Tell Saunders I won't be in for my shift tonight. Can you do that for me Al?" "Sure. Are you alright?" "I'm taking a sick day." "But..." "Just do it!" Collapsing on the sofa, the young man focused on a crack in the ceiling. He desperately needed another painkiller. "Listen, I'll fill you in tomorrow." "Ok. Do you...?" Tyson hung up quickly before the other man could finish. He had better things to do than spend the next half-hour on the phone with a nosy co-worker. Making his way into the bathroom, Tyson caught sight of his face and grimaced. A long jagged gash snaked from his left ear across the bridge of his nose, stopping just below his right eye. "Attractive." After downing three morphine pills from the hospital pharmacy, and a whisky chaser, he stretched out on the sofa. It had been a long night. His eyelids dropped close and his mind wandered backwards. Even now, the memory of that bright white-hot explosion caused pain to shoot throughout his entire body. Screams of pain and panic had filled the air. A small smile crept onto Tyson's face as he fell into a drug filled stupor. The fun was just beginning. ***** "Bubba, you don't want to mess with me." Nash's brow furrowed as he listened to the garbled voice on the other end of the line. "What sort of game are you playing...?" "Just do as you're told Captain." "If I'm going to help you I need you to give me some sort of idea what you except to accomplish with..." "No more questions! Simon says be at 435 Charles Street by 12 Noon. That gives you twenty minutes." The line went dead. Nash hung up his cell phone and tucked it back into his pocket. "Talk to me Harvey." "Sorry Nash. I couldn't get a capture on the line. He's probably using a satellite phone, but I can't narrow down the signal." Joe moved closer to Nash's desk. "What'd he say Nashman?" "He's arranged a drop. Now maybe we'll get some answers." "Did he give any indication as to what he wants?" "Me." Nash pulled out his sunglasses and headed for the door. "He wants me to go there. Alone." Harvey tagged along side Joe as they followed Nash outside. "Boss that's crazy. Joe should go..." "No Harvey. Our bomber was very specific. I go alone or he'll set off another one." Nash slipped on his sunglasses. "Besides I'll be fine. I have a feeling this guy is just setting us up for something bigger. Joe get hold of Michelle and Evan. Have them meet back here in an hour." Joe and Harvey exchanged worried looks as Nash headed out into the brisk San Francisco morning. ****** An hour and a half before the deadline... Evan adjusted his binoculars as he focused in on the balconies above their heads. He and Joe were standing on the rocky edge of San Francisco Bay, just below Nash's apartment. "Anything?" "I don't see any... No, wait." Evan whistled. "Oh man!" "What...what?" Joe was getting impatient. He looked at his watch again. Evan lowered the glasses. "Jackpot." "And?" "The bomb's sitting on Nash's balcony. Looks like it's strapped to a cart. Maybe a grocery cart." "A grocery cart? You're kidding me..." "No Joe. Take a look for yourself." Evan handed over the binoculars. Joe trained them upwards, scanning for the device. "I'll be damned." Evan ran a hand through his hair and paced back and forth along the water's edge. "What if Cassidy had cut class and walked in to find that thing in there? She might have..." "Whoa. Calm down Evan." Joe flipped open his chirping cell phone. "Joe Dominguez." "Did you find it?" Nash could hardly be heard over the din of mid-morning traffic in the downtown core. He was yelling to be heard above the crowd. "Was it there?" "Yeah Nashman. On your balcony, just like you thought." "Damn. Clear everybody out of the area. Make sure there isn't a soul within a ten block radius." "You got it." Joe continued to study the device. From what he could see it didn't look too complicated. "Did you find Nick?" "Yeah. Ronnie spotted him at the track. I've got a detail set up for Nick and Cassidy until this is all over. How are Inger and Lucia?" "Fine. The unies picked them up fifteen minutes ago. They should be at the safe house within the hour." "Good. I don't want this lunatic anywhere near them. He should have stayed away from my home, my family." "I hear ya Nash." "Keep me informed." Nash clicked off. Joe turned to Evan. "Let's get going. We need to clear everybody out. And fast. And then it looks like I've got a date with a ticking bomb. "Right." Joe sighed heavily as he fell in step behind Evan. "You know, this job gets better and better." As the two men made their way back towards the front of Nash's apartment building Joe could hear Evan chuckling softly to himself. "Keep it up Cortez and you'll be in for some on the job training." ***** Bartlett watched gleefully as the detective raced up and down the street. He was obviously agitated. Pausing on the sidewalk, he glanced right, then left. After a few more seconds he took three steps back and tilted his head upwards. The older man's actions reminded Tyson of a mouse scurrying around in a maze. Biting his lip to keep from laughing, Tyson pulled himself off the bus bench and approached the detective carefully. "Do you need some help?" The cop spun around and took in Tyson's appearance. "No. Thanks. I'm fine." "Are you sure? You look lost." The detective lifted the badge that was hanging around his neck on a chain. "SFPD. I'm conducting a search in the area." "Sure man. I just wanted to help." Tyson backed off and proceeded to walk away. Moments later the cop followed Bartlett back to the bus shelter. "Hold on a minute. Sir..." "Yes?" Smiling broadly, the cop offered his hand. "My name's Harvey. You are...?" "Tyson. Tyson Bartlett." "Do you live near here?" Tyson laughed. "In the Presideo? I wish." "Then I suggest you go home. We've got a situation happening nearby. Non essential people need to clear out of this area." "Is it dangerous?" "No. Everything's under control. But just to be safe, you shouldn't be here." "Ok. Thanks man." Harvey's shoulders relaxed slightly. Satisfied that he had saved a `citizen' from potential injury, Inspector Leek continued his survey of the narrow street. "I hope you find what you're looking for." Tyson suppressed a smirk as he turned away. The day was looking better and better. Maybe things were going to work out after all. ***** |
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