Chapter 3: "Holy War"
Tuesday, 8:30 am
"How?" Bobby's voice pitched enough incredulity for all of them. "SOG watched the place all night! They're supposed to still be there!"
Dimitrius held up a hand to cut the tirade short. "Hang on a sec. Let him talk."
Myles' unique brand of quiet outrage was evident as he spoke. "SOG was…is still there, Bobby. The place went up right in front of them. Apparently, our 'Preacher' left a second device at the synagogue yesterday morning. Only this one had three times the C-4, and, as near as the bomb squad could determine, was concealed under the altar." He glanced down at his notes again, not really wanting to answer the question he knew was coming.
Jack picked up on it immediately, and it softened his voice as he asked it. "Was anyone hurt this time?"
They all watched the tall agent take a very deep breath. "Yes," he replied, still looking at the legal pad in his hands. "There was—" The baritone voice broke slightly; Myles swallowed, then squared his shoulders and looked up at them. Now only his eyes betrayed him.
"There was a Hebrew class going on at the time. It wasn't scheduled— Rabbi Daniels was tutoring a few students who needed some extra help. He and six students, all under the age of ten, were killed."
A ripple of shock went around the room; then it palpably settled into a cold resolve. Dimitrius tapped a fist on the board. "All right, folks. Everyone, get out and check your sources— maybe our Preacher has a soapbox somewhere. Then meet Myles and me over at the synagogue. We'll go see what ERT has come up with."
stfbe
stfbe
The Evidence Response Teams of the FBI were known for their thoroughness – up to fifty highly-trained individuals in each field office, whose specialty was tearing apart a crime scene millimeter by millimeter. They were well-equipped, and remarkably efficient. In fact, their services were in great demand outside the Bureau as well, from local sheriff's offices to foreign law enforcement agencies.
So, when Dimitrius and Myles got to the site of the bombing, it looked a bit like a busy anthill. Fortunately, it wasn't hard to find the head of DC's ERT— Melanie MacDonald's flame-red hair stood out like a beacon even amidst the rubble. Myles raised a hand as they approached. "Mel!"
She turned and looked up at them both, grinning— her five-foot-nothing height making it necessary even when she was standing— and waved back. "Leland, Gans! They actually let you two out of the building without supervision?"
Dimitrius grinned. "Very funny. What have you got?"
The redhead looked back over the scene her team was scouring, the grin fading as she did. "It's a real mess, gents," she replied soberly, "but, we may have something." She led them over to the van where the collected evidence was being catalogued. The two agents followed, trying to ignore for now the seven white-covered forms off to one side— bodies pulled from the collapsed building.
Melanie retrieved a bag from the van. "Take a look at this."
D had already pulled on a pair of latex gloves, and he opened the evidence bag. Inside was a brass disc, perhaps two inches in diameter. It had a hole in the center, and a second disc was positioned so that the two slid against each other, closing the hole. A stylized "M" was engraved in the disc. "Fancy wire-cutter of some sort?"
Melanie shrugged. "I guess. There's a definite groove in it like you'd see after awhile on wire cutters."
Myles raised an eyebrow. "May I see that for a second, D?" He pulled on his own gloves as D handed the disc to him.
The blond agent turned it over in his hand a couple of times. "This is a cigar cutter."
"A what?" Melanie asked.
"A cigar cutter. You know, before you light up a cigar, you bite or cut the end off?"
She shrugged. "Sorry. Never touch the things. I didn't know you smoked, Myles."
"Neither did I," added Dimitrius.
Myles was still studying the disc. "I don't. But my grandfather and my uncles do. This is a high-quality one, too. You'd have to get it in a pretty exclusive smoke shop."
"Can't be many of those around here," Melanie commented. "Should be easy enough to trace."
Dimitrius snorted. "Don't count on it. You have any idea how many politicians smoke cigars? It's like a deal-sealer in this town."
She shrugged again. "I don't follow politics. I just dig around in sites more interesting than Tut's tomb. The rest of it is in you guys' job descriptions."
"Thanks, Mel," D replied as Myles pulled out his cell phone and excused himself. "A bang-up job, as usual. No pun intended."
She smiled briefly. "After a scene like this one, intend it, please. We'll send everything over when we get done." Red hair swung as she turned and walked back toward the site.
Dimitrius headed over toward where Myles was replacing his cell in its case and the rest of the team was just getting out of their cars. "Tara's going to run a list of all the high-end tobacco shops in town," the taller agent said, "then we'll see if we can cross-reference the customers with the ceramic supply stores. Maybe the Preacher is a regular at both, and that's got to narrow our list of suspects."
D nodded, and the team gathered around. "Anybody got any word?"
A few minutes' discussion ended with the conclusion that the Preacher was keeping to himself. Sue kept shooting glances over D's shoulder, horrified but unable to look away. Jack and Bobby went over to talk to Melanie MacDonald for a moment, and Myles, after another round of a deep breath and squared shoulders, walked over to where the victims' bodies were laid. Sue watched for another long moment.
"You okay?" Dimitrius touched her arm briefly.
It took her a minute. "How can you stand to do this? Day in and day out for all these years? Does it stop getting to you after awhile?"
He leaned against the car, hands in his coat pockets. "If it ever stops getting to you completely, it's time to switch jobs. But after awhile you learn to...sublimate it, block it temporarily so you can do your job. Then later, you cry, scream, pound a punching bag, whatever it takes to be able to file it away enough to come back and go through it again."
She thought about that and nodded. "Because coming back means that someday, maybe, you won't have to. That the bad will just give up someday, and that's what you work towards?"
He nodded. "Don't know that any of us have ever actually put words to it, but yeah."
Her gaze drifted again to the other three agents, all with variations of the same stoic expression and haunted eyes. Then she straightened a little herself. "D? Would you help me with a bit of 'Crime Scene 101' education, then?"
"You sure?"
"Yes. I'm sure."
stfbe
stfbe
Tuesday, 11 p.m.It was dark by the time they got back to the Bullpen. But at least they were sure neither of the two remaining "first-target" churches would share the synagogue's fate. After several hours with ERT at Temple Beth Chai, they had checked out both Grace Baptist Church and Mosque Emmanuel, where bomb squads went over every square inch of each building. Now, SOG was watching another dozen random churches, and the waiting game was back in full force.
Tara had found eighty cigar shops within a 25-mile radius of DC, and they had spent the last three hours on the phones, narrowing the list to those that carried brass cutters like the one they'd found at the bomb site. The list stood at twenty now.
Sue leaned back in her chair and stretched. It had been a very sobering and enlightening day for her especially. Dimitrius had taken her at her word; her head was still spinning from the day's lessons. She'd walked away from the site with not only a better understanding of the intricacies of evidence gathering, but also of some of her colleagues. Watching them, she now understood Bobby's righteous anger, Myles' cynical and often morbid-sounding humor, and Jack's sheer intensity of purpose. D seemed to be the only one who didn't need a specific outlet, until she realized that he had one: his wife and kids. Only he had someone to go home to at the end of a day like today – the others fought the nightmares alone.
She was about to get up and go find coffee when the phone hookup on her computer screen flashed. She answered the call. "Hello?"
Hey there, stranger. David's words appeared on the screen.
"David! Hi!" She hoped her voice didn't reflect the anxiety that clutched her heart.
But something must have come through, because he said, I caught you at a bad time, didn't I? The church bombings?
Sue breathed a sigh of relief that he had misread her tension. "Yes. I'm sorry. We're on full watch."
It's ok – I won't keep you long. I tried you at home and got the voicemail, so I figured you were working. I just wanted to let you know I'll be home tomorrow night.
She started a little at that. So soon? "I thought it was a four-day convention."
It is. But I got what I came after, and I have a pile of orders waiting for me at the shop. I understand that you're busy, but I wanted to hear your voice, and we still need to talk. But it can wait until the bad guys are in jail.
She stared at the screen for a long moment before answering, "I know we need to talk. I'll call you as soon as I can, and we'll plan something."
You're on. I'll talk to you later.
"Bye, David." She sat back in the chair again. But before she had a chance to drop into her thoughts, a hand touched her shoulder. She turned to see Myles standing there. "What's up?"
"Nothing," was the soft reply. "I just happened to catch the end of your conversation with David. And the slump in your shoulders after you hung up. You okay? You've had rather a full day."
She nodded. "No more so than the rest of you. You all are just used to it. And David…"
He glanced around the room quickly, then leaned against her desk and lowered his voice further. "I take it you found some answers in that area? And he's not really going to like the answers you found?"
Another nod, and then she stood up. "No, he's not. But it'll have to wait. We've got work to do. What's next?"
He smiled at her, respect bright in his eyes. "Since you asked…how about you help me go over these evidence reports from today? Maybe we can find something else to go on."