Chapter Thirteen

They arrived in Los Angeles at 4:45 a.m. The plan was fairly simple. Get to the hotel first and then head over to Hartman's garage. Bill knew where the hotel was, having busted a guy for mail fraud in a room there before his time with Ralph. Bill had to first run to his apartment to get his last spare gun. Ralph suggested he change his clothes, too.

"No time for that," Bill said. "We've still got to get through the early morning traffic to Century City."

Leaving the car running, Bill dodged up the outside stairs of his complex like an Olympic sprinter, his long legs taking three steps at a time. He was back in a minute, loaded gun once more stashed in his holster.

Next, they had to pull in for some gas and after filling the tank Bill went to turn the ignition on. Nothing. It still wouldn't start up with the key. "Oh, brother," Bill moped, rolling his eyes. "Ralph."

Ralph started the engine up and they set off to the hotel.

Bill led the way into the lobby, which was still fairly empty at 5 a.m, but for a few hotel workers and early bird risers. His appearance garnered their full attention.

"You should have changed your suit," Ralph murmured into his ear.

Bill noticed he was the target of everyone's eyes and reacted to his embarrassment by snarling "Who cares what you think?" Flipping his badge and identifying himself, he asked to see the manager, who pulled Bill aside to his office, asking what was going on.

"What conferences are here at the hotel today?" Maxwell asked.

"Well, there's the California Accountants Society, the Brain Surgeons Update, and the Symposium of Research Scientists."

"Research Scientists? Do they work on animals?"

"I have no idea," the manager said. "Probably."

"That's got to be it," Ralph said.

"What room are they banqueting in tonight?" Bill asked.

"Banquet Room Hoover. Third Floor."

"You hired any electricians to fix outlets in the room?"

"No, there's nothing wrong with the outlets. Everything's perfectly to code."

Bill, Ralph and Pam exchanged knowing looks. Bill continued, "Call the police and direct them up to Hoover. Keep everyone out of that room. Until I clear it, no one can go in at any time. Do you understand?"

"Agent Maxwell, what's going on?"

"I'll tell you after I stop it." Bill took out a card from his pocket, his main police buddy's information on it. "Call Detective Tommy Danners. Here's his number. Counselor, you stay put here with the manager. Ralph, let's go."

They left the manager and Pam and got in an elevator. Since no one else was present, Ralph undressed down to his suit, wondering where to put his clothes and shoes. "The eternal problem," he complained.

"Leave 'em in the hallway," Bill recommended.

The elevator "Binged!" their arrival on the third floor and Bill withdrew his gun as the doors slid open. The direction sign on the wall in front of them pointed an arrow to the left for the Hoover room. Bill glanced both ways down the corridor and seeing no one, used his head to direct Ralph down the hall with him. Ralph dropped his clothes and walked normally as Bill slunk cautiously towards the room.

"You done?" they heard a female's voice call out in the banquet room. "I've got the incendiary spread throughout the room."

That was all Bill Maxwell needed to hear. Without waiting for Ralph to go in first, protected by his suit, Maxwell yanked the door open fully, flew into the room, his gun held securely by both his hands.

"Freeze, creeps! This is the FBI!" He pulled his badge out and waved it around so both the surprised felons could see. Karen lifted up her bottle of fluid in the automatic act of dousing Bill with it, but Ralph was right there, snatching it out of her hand before she saw him move. A good hard push and she landed in a chair, Ralph's hand on her shoulder keeping her from moving at all.

"You, put the screwdriver down and assume the position on the floor." The man hesitated. "Now, Sparky!" Bill added, his gun aimed directly at the man's chest.

The man put his tool belt on the floor and then spread himself out on his stomach, his arms spread eagle. Bill came over and handcuffed his wrists together behind his back, then put his gun back in his holster. He took out the man's wallet to learn his name and then dropped it on his back. Throwing a second set of cuffs to Ralph, Karen was similarly immobilized. Ralph wandered over to Bill who squatted down and took a moment to unscrew the outlet and pull off the protective plate.

Ralph glanced down. "What do you see?"

"They've got all the outlets wired with a little incendiary, explosive and a timer; there's also an antennae so that a radio signal could set off the explosive, if necessary." He touched the carpeting under the outlet, and rubbed his fingers together, wiping the fluid off on his trousers. "One tiny spark would have ignited the chemical Little Karen Sunshine spread. It would have raced around the room like an Indy sports car. With the doors locked closed, no one would have stood a chance." Bill turned to scoff at his captive. "Wait till your mommy hears what you've done."

"Drop dead, Fed."

"Maybe, one day. But, not from a fire you set. You're going to jail for a long time."

The police came fifteen minutes later and Bill told the startled cops several times, in increasing magnitude, not to send for an ambulance, he was fine, really, fine. They were not wholly convinced by his appearance but cancelled the call. Bill explained everything to Tommy and turned the two criminals over to him.

Bill got back in the elevator holding all of Ralph's attire and a whisper from an invisible Ralph made him jump. "You really should have changed your clothes."

Bill sighed heavily. "Oh, brother."