Cleaning Up Chapter 8

As John drives up to the flaming ruins of a neighborhood supermarket, he finds Bailey as part of a battalion struggling to douse the flames. She turns to him with tears streaking through soot on her face. "There were children in there, John, babies in shopping carts. Whoever did this is a monster. Where the hell is the FBI? They've got to stop this."

"They're working on it, Bailey," Nolan assures her, hoping he's right. "And every cop in the LAPD is trying to keep this city safe."

"And doing a hell of a job of it," Bailey retorts. "I'm sorry John. I'm just frustrated – and angry. First, neither one of us can go near the house, and then LAX, and now this. I feel helpless. And I hate feeling helpless."

"That makes two of us. That's why I became a cop. I wanted to be able to do something to help people. But with a thing like this, we have no idea what the bombers want or where they might strike next. We all have to keep doing what we can until someone gets a handle on what's behind the slaughter."

Bailey starts back toward the inferno. "They'd better get a handle on it soon."


When John crashes on the expensive bed at Ben McCree's guest house, he's even more exhausted mentally than he is physically. This is a bed he once shared with Lucy. That seems so far away as to be a dream, but it was a pleasant one while it lasted. They broke up for the sake of Lucy's career. Strictly speaking, a relationship between equals wasn't against regs, unless it interfered with their ability to do their work. But according to Bishop, it would have marked Lucy somehow. It's ironic that everyone in the division can now see the sparks between Lucy and Tim. Aside from the fact that Lucy's dating Chris Sanford, a superior officer hooking up with a subordinate would be very much against regs. It would brand Lucy and could do real damage to Bradford. So until Lucy is officially under another command, like a UC unit, the sparks better stay just that. As tired as John is, generating some sparks, or maybe just a comforting glow with Bailey right now would help a little to put the world to rights. But she's where she belongs, at least for the next few days. And after that, they'll have to see.


"Are you sure the alarm system is off?" Elijah Stone asks Jaleel Morgan as Jaleel pulls a set of lockpicks out of his jacket.

"I'm sure," Jaleel responds, but this lock is going to be a problem. It's magnetic. It has to match a magnetic element in a key. The only way to get in is to clone one, which we can't do without an original."

"F***! Nolan must have upped his security since the last time we scoped this place out."

"We could smash a window," Jaleel suggests.

Elijah shakes his head. "Someone might hear it, and Nolan would know we were here. Let's go to the alley around back where that idiot bitch was up a tree. Maybe we can get over the fence."

The smooth redwood boards offer no footholds for fence vaulting, but Elijah can see a sliding door from Nolan's house into the backyard. He starts pulling on a plank only to find it very firmly attached. "Sh*t! We're going to have to come back with a way to get over this."

"If you give the city a chance to calm down, the cops may be watching the house again," Jaleel warns. "And Nolan could come back."

"Then we don't give the city that chance. Is the third one ready to go?" Elijah asks.

"It's all assembled but not in place yet."

"Then get it in place tomorrow morning," Elijah orders. "And I'll have all the time I need."


In the before-dawn hours, the tourists are gone from Hollywood Boulevard. Even the hookers have left their posts, grabbing some rest before the parade of johns picks up again. Later, despite the bomb threats, the sidewalks will be full. And if they aren't, the streets will be. And the cops will be watching obvious targets like Grauman's Chinese Theater. It would be a shame to turn all those hand and footprints into a cloud of gritty dust. And that's not what Jaleel has in mind anyway. It would be too obvious, and Elijah wants no part of obvious.

But the theater is hardly the only tourist trap. All the stores along the sidewalk display Hollywood-themed wares designed to part visitors from their money. One of those would be the perfect spot to plant a little gift. It could take out the shoppers inside, the passersby on the sidewalk, and the cars in the street. The death toll won't be as high as at the airport or the supermarket. But striking Hollywood Boulevard hits at the very heart of the city's identity. No cop will be able to focus on anything else. And that's exactly what Elijah needs.

Jaleel identifies his target, a shop with a pickable lock and outdated alarm system. He can shove the bomb in a back corner where no one will see it until it's too late. No cop will take a second to go near John Nolan's house, not even Nolan. Elijah can take his time getting in and searching for whatever prize Rosalind left, and no one in the LAPD will know or care.


Benji Krasnitz has to jiggle his key three times to get the front door of his shop open. That's unusual, but it's happened before, and he doesn't have time to worry about it. He has a load of merchandise to unpack and get on the shelves before he can open up. And since both his clerks called in sick, he'll be doing it by himself. That's why he's at the store now instead of sleeping. Benji doesn't believe for a moment that his staff is sick. They're scared, like a lot of the city. But Benji can't afford to be scared. He has a business that won't run itself. He starts carrying boxes out of the back room, wishing his knees were five years younger. But when he picks up the last one, something catches his eye. It looks like a regular shipping box, but it's not from a vendor he's used before. And he doesn't remember receiving it. Carefully, he looks inside just long enough to recognize electronics and what looks like a huge brick of clay. But Benji grew up in Israel and did his two years in the army, so he knows that isn't clay. It isn't anything he wants to be anywhere near. After hurriedly getting back in his car and driving several blocks away, he calls 911."


"We caught a break," Grey announces to the cops gathered at roll call. "The owner of a store on Hollywood Boulevard spotted a bomb planted there before it could go off. The bomb squad defused it, and they're analyzing it now to figure out who planted it. It had been set to go off later today, so there's a good chance that whoever set it has no idea it's been found. That gives us a few hours grace to track them down before they figure it out. The owner of the store is sure the box wasn't there when he closed up at 10 last night. He discovered it around five this morning. That gives us a seven-hour window during which it was planted. Someone must have seen something. As many as possible of you are going to be asking questions – lots of questions.