Chapter 2: Scattered Showers

What was up was a break in a case they'd been working on for four months. Only in the last three weeks had all the evidence really come together, thanks to some intense bullpen sessions, eighty-hour work weeks, and three very informative informants.

The who was a group of as-yet-unnamed smugglers, whom Bobby had dubbed the "Rockettes." The what was diamonds (hence, "Rocks")—lots of them, coming into Baltimore Harbor in shipments of Belgian chocolates, then being trucked into D.C. The when was today, sometime between 11am and 2 p.m. The where was a warehouse on the city limits. And the why was financing for a terrorist cell currently based in Richmond, Virginia.

At the moment, it was quiet. Jack's team had moved in slowly, from various directions around the industrial park. A tiny camera was set up in a vent screen on the south side of the warehouse in question, and now Tara was adjusting it by remote, from a construction supply warehouse just adjacent, trying to get the best angle on the mostly-open space inside. They had thermal imaging, motion detectors, the works—a bee couldn't have flown in without being detected.

It was 10 a.m. Bobby and Dimitrius were stationed at the only entrance to the industrial park, posing as Con-Ed workers repairing lines. Jack was on the roof of the construction supply warehouse, keeping an eye out for—well, pretty much anything that could toss a wrench into the operation. His cover was repairing the air-conditioning unit on the roof. Sue was in the surveillance room with Tara, serving as a backup set of eyes, and in case her unique skills were needed.

"This technology never ceases to amaze me," she said as she watched Tara zoom in on a stack of boxes fifteen feet down and perhaps seventy-five feet away from where the camera was positioned. "A camera the size of a lipstick, perched practically on the roof, can get us close enough not only for me to lip-read, but to read the stress-test ratings on those boxes."

"Don't you just love living in the twenty-first century?" Myles said from the doorway.

Sue and Tara both smiled broadly, looking at him. The Harvard graduate had traded in his suit and tie for a company shirt and Dockers, work boots, and a hard hat. A pair of reading glasses was perched on his nose, and he carried a clipboard.

Myles would be posing as the inspector of a shipment of concrete blocks scheduled to come in, conveniently, at 10:45, while watching for any activity outside the warehouse once the "Rockettes" arrived. While the deal was in progress, it would be his job to cut the power to the warehouse's security system so the FBI could surround the smugglers undetected.

"Careful, Myles," Tara quipped as she ran the equipment through a final diagnostic. "The last time you went this blue-collar on us, you broke out in a rash."

"Perhaps so, but it healed up quite nicely during the week's medical leave in Jamaica." He poured himself a cup of coffee, then leaned against the desk. "I'll be happy when we finally nail these guys. I'm starting to see the specs for that security system in my dreams."

"I had noticed the Wall Street Journal piling up on your desk," Sue teased as he took a long drink. "Any withdrawal symptoms yet?"

"Nah," Tara piped in, "he can still catch the society column in the Post on our breaks."

Before Myles could swallow his coffee and retort, Sue asked, "Speaking of society, what was all that this morning with Liz and …was it 'D.C. Dillingham'? Who's that? The way I saw her say it, sounds like somebody high-society."

"Not 'D.C. Dillingham.' The Dillingham family of Washington, D.C.," Myles explained. At their blank looks, he huffed into his coffee. "High-society, definitely, but not in the same league as the Cambridge Dillinghams, I can tell you that."

"Oh."

Tara shrugged. "Whatever. I knew Liz comes from old money, but it's not something we've ever talked about."

Myles looked up at the ceiling and sighed in mock-exasperation. "I am the only corner of culture in this circus." He glanced at his watch just as Jack signaled him that the concrete shipment was coming in. "Well, ladies, love to stay and chat, but I have to go earn another week's medical leave. Perhaps skiing in Vail this time." And he strode out.

Sue watched him leave, a bemused expression on her face. Several things had just clicked together in her mind.

"Tara?"

"Yeah?" was the reply. Tara was engrossed in the diagnostic.

"I think Liz went fishing this morning."

"What?"

"I think Liz went fishing this morning," Sue repeated.

It wasn't registering. "For what?"

"For Myles."

That caught Tara's attention. She looked up at Sue in astonishment.

"You're kidding me."

Sue shook her head. "No. This morning, just before she left, she signed to me to ask you to give Myles her phone number."

"She what?" Tara stared at Sue.

Sue leaned over closer, just in case Myles was still within earshot.

"She said for me to tell you to give Myles her phone number, and to have him call her when he's free for dinner."

Tara was still processing this. "She's crazy. After everything we've told her, she wants to go out with Myles? I wondered what all that this morning was about. I didn't tell Myles this, but Liz and I have talked a little about her family. They're highbrow, all right, but she doesn't go in for all that. She's just Liz to me, and she's really down-to-earth. Well, you know her, Sue. Why would she do something so out-of-character like this morning?"

Sue smiled. "I think that because of everything we've told her, she knew exactly the right way to catch Myles' attention. I guess it pays to be a psychologist."

Tara shook her head. "All right, I'll give him her number. Look out, world."

s

s

They were ready. Everything was in place when, at 1 p.m., a large white truck pulled into the industrial park. It came to a stop outside the warehouse loading area, then was driven inside. No one came out to look around, and it appeared that no one was concerned to see the inspector out on the loading dock next door.

"Guess they think they have a foolproof security system," Jack commented over the radio. "We'll show 'em different, eh Myles? Bobby, D, you coming to join us?"

"Almost there, mate."

"Good. Tara, what have you got?"

Tara panned the camera. "Looks like about twenty in there. Must have been crowded in the back of that truck, what with all the crates that are in it. Ok—here's our terrorist liaison."

"Seems unusual that he'd come with them," Myles reasoned. "But there's no other way in here."

"Could he have come in on the concrete truck?" Bobby asked.

"If he did, he was folded up in the glove compartment," Myles replied, "and even then, he'd have had to open the door after the driver got out. I walked all the way around that truck before they dropped off the load. Looked under it, looked between the pallets…everything I could think of."

"We'll figure out later how he got in," Jack said. "Right now, everybody move in very quietly. Tara, I want to know what's going on every step of the way."

Tara and Sue leaned closer to the monitors. "Gotcha, boss," Tara said. "Looks like their fee is getting wired into an account via the Internet. Couple of people punching in passwords. Slick deal – no paper trail, no money coming into or leaving the warehouse."

"Do you see any diamonds?"

"Hang on…" She zoomed in just as the smugglers removed a crate from the truck. One man grabbed a crowbar and pried off the lid. Several layers of boxed chocolates were removed, and a layer of sparkling white revealed. "Wow! If every crate is like that, we're looking at nearly half a billion dollars worth, Jack."

"Everybody ready? Myles, you set at the security box?"

"Right here, mon Capitan." Myles' baritone rang over the radio. "Something strange, though."

"What?"

"There's an extra wire in here. One that wasn't on the specs. Connects the alarm to…I haven't a clue. It meanders all over the box, then just disappears out the back. It could be connected to anything, or nothing."

There was a pause. Then Jack's voice was there again. "Anybody else want to voice an opinion as to what this might be?"

Bobby was first. "Could it be hooked up to an explosive? Kinda like 'if you get in we all go up'?"

Myles again. "Hmmm….wrong gauge of wire. You wouldn't need anything this heavy for that."

Jack paused momentarily before he answered. "We can't wait forever. We need to move or abort now. And I'd really, really hate to abort. What do you think, Myles? You know the specs better than any of us."

"Anything I tell you would be a complete guess."

Tara broke in. "They're putting the crate back in the truck, guys. Looks like they're getting ready to move."

Jack's voice was there instantly. "All right, everybody get on your door. My call—Myles, go."

"Three, two, one …cutting."

Tara's screen went blank. "What the—?" Suddenly, they had a marvelous view of blue sky, straight up.

Sue grabbed her arm. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Tara replied tensely. "But I don't hear any gunfire. Let's get out there."

s

s

Two hours later, an exhausted Tara shook her head again as she pulled a business card out of her purse and walked over to Myles' desk. Equally tired, and rather wet, heads turned from every direction.

"Myles…" she started.

He was sitting with his forehead propped up on his hands, looking down at the desk his elbows were resting on. He didn't even look up. "Enough already. How was I supposed to know shutting off the security system would activate the sprinklers? Nobody designs a system like that."

"At least you got the diamonds," Lucy said, trying to smooth things a little as she passed hot coffee around. "That's that much less money they'll have to work with."

"Until they find a new location to make their deliveries," muttered Bobby. He had been right in the path of a jet of water when they went in, and he looked like he'd just swum up out of the Potomac.

"But where did they go?" Sue added. "It was like they vanished into thin air."

"And left us to get soaked—literally," Dimitrius voiced, leaning back in his chair despondently.

Tara spoke up. "There was nothing on the monitors, before the camera got water-blasted. They were all standing there between the truck and that monster-sized pallet we'd been staring at all morning. Then they were gone. What happened when you all went back to look at the security box?"

"We found," Bobby growled, "that if Mr. Wizard over here had simply cut that wire first, none of this would have happened, the 'Rockettes' would be behind bars, and we'd still be dry."

"We didn't find that out until we looked at it from inside the warehouse," defended Myles wearily. "There was no way of knowing, from the vantage point I had, what would happen."

"Oh, c'mon, mate," Bobby shot back, "that was rare form, even for you. You've been staring at those specs for a week now. You can't expect us to let you off that easy, can you? Three solid weeks of legwork, shot to…"

Myles came halfway out of his chair. "Look, Roo, I don't have to …"

Jack stepped in. "Enough! It's been a long day, we're all tired and tempers are short. It was nobody's fault. And if you all remember correctly, it was my call. Myles, sit down. Bobby, Tara — give it a rest." His firm tone left no room for argument.

Tara drew herself up straight. "For your information, I wasn't going to say anything about today. I just wanted to get this over with." She threw the business card at Myles.

It was a credit to his reflexes that he caught it. "What's this?"

"Elizabeth's phone number. She wanted me to give it to you. Her home number's on the back."

The tension in the room abated, just slightly.

He stared at her blankly for a moment. "Elizabeth? Oh, Dr. Dillingham, from this morning? Her phone number?" He looked at the card, then back up at Tara, his expression darkening further, if that were possible. "She's a clinical psychologist. Highly amusing, Tara, but the timing's lousy."

"Myles, I'm in no more mood for jokes than you are, and this isn't one. What you saw Liz signing to Sue this morning was for me to give you her phone number and tell you to call her if you'd be interested in dinner." She rolled her eyes at the ceiling. "Heaven only knows why."

Myles bored his glare into Sue, who simply shrugged as she rubbed a towel in her hair. "That's what she said."

Dimitrius chuckled. "Myles dating a psychologist — that's got to be poetic justice in somebody's book."

Everybody else laughed, too—almost. Myles just hmphed and reacquired his slump.

Bobby was about add his two cents' worth when Jack said, "All right, people. Let's just call it a day and start fresh tomorrow. Everybody go home and relax. Do whatever it takes to get you back here in the morning positive and ready to tackle this case again."