Chapter Sixteen

Culdero seethed with anger in his home. His bombs go off. They always go off. His underling assured him the bomb had been planted, but there had been no explosion. He had waited outside his condo, and Bill was wounded but Ralph unharmed. He had waited on the ground below Bill's hospital room, no explosion had occurred. There had been a crashing noise in the parking lot, and Culdero, being close by, believed he seen Ralph Hinkley scurrying away safely. Had the bomb been moved to the lot, destroyed a car, and yet Hinkley had again survived somehow? Was he bomb-proof? And, making things worse, Bill Maxwell was still alive.

Culdero kicked a box of plastic explosives in his outrage. He wouldn't have another chance at Maxwell in the hospital; he was sure of it. But, things had to be settled soon. Hinkley had to be killed. Maxwell had to be killed.

Culdero had a brilliant idea. If he couldn't get to Maxwell, then he had to ensure Maxwell came to him. It was all so simple it was nearly laughable.

Culdero sneered. This would all end tomorrow.

Ralph radio'd Bill from the parking lot, using his communicator. Bill's communicator was in a pocket of his beige trousers Ralph had brought from Bill's closet, folded neatly on a chair in the hospital room with a his black t-shirt, red and white short sleeve shirt, socks and underwear.

"Bill, Pam, are you there?" he asked. He didn't feel like slinking back into the hospital all invisible. He was a little tired after his busy and harrowing afternoon and sat down on a parking lot divider in a space that was empty of a car.

"Ralph!" they both answered, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. The bomb went off up in the air. Although some Mercedes owner isn't going to be too happy. I landed on his car, crushing the roof."

"A Mercedes? Boy, we have got to work on those landings," Bill said.

"Bill, do you mind? Ralph, what was all this about?" Pam asked.

Ralph explained to them his afternoon activities. Ralph mentioned there being a bug planted under Bill's phone and, lifting up the unit, Pam and Bill found it. They removed it; Pam stomped on it with her shoe, and then threw it out. Ralph then mentioned Gerard and the grenade and soberly told Bill he had a new appreciation for his war years.

"Sorry you had to see that, Ralph," Bill sincerely commiserated. "It's very gruesome."

"Yeah, horrible. All the blood, the disfigurement…"

None of them commented for a few seconds.

"That'll probably make the papers tomorrow," Bill said. "Carlisle won't like it. I still can't believe he'd put a bomb in a hospital. He must be romper room on us."

"No doubt," Ralph agreed. "Listen, I'm exhausted, emotionally and physically. Bill, since visiting hours are almost over, Pam and I'll go home and I'll continue working on the case tomorrow. Is that okay? Let me know what other angles you think I should pursue."

"Well…alright, I'll do my best to think something up. Carlisle'll take me off the case if I don't have something substantial by Monday. We've got to stop this guy."

"Just tell me what to do. I'm clueless on my own."

It seemed too complicated to make a formal police and FBI report about finding a bomb under Bill's bed. There was little proof, and how they would explain it not going off was hard to figure out. Their minds were not at their best for a masterpiece of prevarication, so they just decided to not report it at all.

"Honey, I'm coming down," Pam said.

It was an anxious night for all of them. Ralph was uncomfortable sleeping in his suit, but did so on Bill's recommendation, to protect himself and Pam. He held Bill's fishing hat in his hand to vibe in on any danger that might return to Bill in his hospital room. He dozed now and then, dreaming of bombs and blood. Pam was a little traumatized to think she had almost been blown up herself, and latched onto her husband for comfort and safety all night long. Bill, once alone in his room, abandoned his heralded stoicism and asked the night nurse for more morphine. But enough time had not allotted to allow him another dose, and so he lay restlessly, in pain and fear for his life, through a very long and worrisome night.