California Dreaming

Chapter 9

"When you get out of here, we should throw a party," Rick enthuses. "I could get a hospitality suite at the hotel. You can invite the friends you trained with, and Bailey, of course. I could even get some entertainment in from Q-Line studios."

John holds up his hand. "Slow down a second, Rick. They'll be watching me for another day here, and after that, if I'm well enough for a party, I should go back to work. I lost a lot of time as a rookie. I'm not losing any more. My watch commander will probably put me on the front desk until I'm cleared for unrestricted duty."

"But we should celebrate somehow," Rick insists. "It's not every day one finds a brother. And Kate and I will be going back to L.A. in a few days. My work's almost finished here, and she doesn't have much vacation left."

"I need to process this. And I'm still a bit fuzzy," Nolan claims. "I'll call you tomorrow after I get out of here, and we'll work something out. But please give my new niece a hug from Uncle John."

"All right, I will remember to assign a cuddle on your behalf." A slightly deflated Rick turns to Bailey. "Take care of him. I just found my brother. I don't want to lose him."

"I'll do my best," Bailey promises as her phone dings a text.

"Another fire?" John asks as she stares at the screen.

"No, but our investigators figured out what caused the blast. The storage in that building was climate-controlled. Most of the chemicals were reasonably stable as long as they were kept cool. But the air conditioning went out."

"Power failure?" John queries.

"No. Apparently, the thermostat was accessible online, and someone hacked in and turned the air conditioning off. When the drums got too hot, one of them leaked and then exploded and touched off the other chemicals."

"That accounts for the spike on my sniffer before the whole thing went up," John realizes.

"And with multiple drums of those chemicals, the place might as well have been loaded with T.N.T.," Bailey adds.

"That fits with what the homeless man who put me on to the place said," John considers. "But why would someone want to blow up the building?"

"Destroy records? Cover their tracks?" Rick suggests.

John taps his fingers along the edge of his bed. "Maybe. But the suspects arrested there didn't even put up a fight. The detectives should be able to drag some information out of them. Destroying the building wouldn't wipe out the trail. There must be something else to it."

"Perhaps a player of which your people are unaware." Rick's eyes light up. "It does make an interesting mystery."

"Yes," John agrees, with an eerily similar expression. "It does."

"Daddy!" Lily exclaims joyfully as Rick joins Kate and his daughter in front of a reconstruction of a mastodon. "El-Phant."

"It looks a lot like one," Rick observes. "How long have you ladies been taking in the sights of ancient denizens of the Earth?"

"A couple of hours," Kate replies.

"Goo," Lily adds, pressing on her nose and grimacing. "Yuck!"

"Her description of tar," Kate explains.

"And I expect an accurate one," Rick comments.

Kate lays her hand on Rick's arm. "So, how's John?"

Rick grins. "You mean your brother-in-law? Awake and apparently lucid. The doctors think he should be fine. But he and Bailey presented me with a new puzzle. The origin of the explosion that knocked John out raises more questions than it answers."

Kate groans. "Babe, we're supposed to be on vacation. It's bad enough you have to deal with the plotline for "Storming the Walls." Can't unraveling clues wait until we're back in New York?"

"Perhaps," Rick allows. "I don't have much to go on anyway. But my curiosity is piqued."

Lily points toward other exhibits, cutting the discussion short. "Doggies."

"She must mean the dire wolves," Rick surmises. "Maybe when she's older, she'll get hooked on Game of Thrones."

Kate rolls her eyes. "Much older, I hope. But let's go see the beasts."

From a distant rooftop, Jack surveys the Fashion District wreckage. An agency analyst picked up the wi-fi signal that caused the conflagration but has yet to trace its origin. The Russians? Why would they sabotage their new investments? Structures can be rebuilt, but the chemical residue will make the area unusable for years to come. And remediation is a lot more expensive than reconstruction. The explosion created a wasteland, a total loss.

Not that the Russians didn't deserve it. The budding drug operation may not have been the worst of it. From the communications Jack's monitored so far, the workers were anything but willing. They'd been brought in by human traffickers who promised them decent jobs and a new life in the United States. Instead, they were consigned to what amounted to slavery in a drug lab. No wonder they welcomed the police.

But why the Russians left the operation unguarded is another question. For days, their people, armed with Kalashnikovs, had maintained a menacing presence. Had they received a heads up? If so, the agency hadn't caught it. To Jack, the scenario is unfathomable, something that is a very rare occurrence. He wishes Azra could be in California with him. There's always been very little they couldn't figure out between the two of them. And when he gets to use his temporary bed, it feels damn empty.

Well, there's nothing to keep him from sharing the mystery. He doesn't have enough information to be worth classifying. In any case, Azra has more than enough clearance to be read in on situations like this. There's also the possibility that she's picked up something in New York that could shine a light through the obscurity in California. Jack smiles to himself. That sounds like the kind of language Richard would craft. The signs of Jack's fatherhood pop up at the damnedest times.

Jack sinks back to the collapsible chair he brought to his perch. He'd pushed signs that his seed had found additional purchase to the back of his mind. And from the chatter he'd picked up, Richard's near double might have been one of the police officers injured by the blast. Chances are that Richard would know what happened and how the man is faring. And Jack is keeping as much of an eye on his known family as he can. He may discover the nature of any other relationship – if there is one – through that surveillance.

The agent chugs a bottle of water. Right now, he wishes it could be something more potent.

"You doing OK?" Bailey asks as she settles John on his couch.

"Fine," he assures her. "If you need to check in at the fire station, you should go. The doctor gave me a list of things to look out for. For once, my refrigerator is pretty well stocked. My computer is right in front of me. The T.V. has more channels than I could ever watch, and Lucy and Jackson will be looking in on me. I think one or the other should be by in about an hour. So quit worrying about me and go worry about all the other people we serve in this city."

"All right," Bailey agrees reluctantly. But if anything…."

"I'll call," John promises.

As the door closes behind Bailey, John flips open his laptop and brings up the website for the Fashion Angels. Through patrols in the Fashion District, he'd become acquainted with some of their volunteers. Maybe there's a chance one of them saw something. He clicks on the contact email link. It can't hurt to ask.