Die By The Pen by Miles A. Maxwell

Author:Miles A. Maxwell [Maxwell, Miles A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: B B Broadington LLC
Published: 2016-04-29T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 37

“How could you possibly have known?” I asked Xue, while a dozen agents took charge of the scene, including SAC Randolph Micheals. One good thing, we wouldn’t have to drive our Bureaumobile back down to San Diego to return it. The black Taurus was demolished. There were nothing but charred pieces left.

“It was a cellphone,” Xue said. “I heard it ringing. A unique combination of things. Tone, direction, the bounce of its ring off the concrete. I’ve only heard that exact sound one other time in my life.” She winced at me, mouth pulled kind of funny.

“When that carjacker bomb went off in D.C. last month,” I said.

She nodded.

“Well, that was a brilliant move, Agent Sang,” Micheals said. “You saved your partner’s life. Jim Charles,” — the agent who hadn’t liked my joke — “wasn’t so lucky. He was right next to your car when the bomb went off.” He blew out a long breath. “I want both of you checked out by medical.”

“Yes, sir.”

It turned out pieces of Agent Charles were scattered across the street. Actually stuck to the black and mottled wall of the building where our car had been was one of Jim Charles’ hands. I was there to hear the sucking sound when a CSI guy scraped it off. Dammit! Reminding me again of the Professor.

Who was this killer?

What it really turned out to be was a very long morning of reports, gathering crime scene evidence and tagging everything into our phones. Then, finally, after delaying as long as we could, having a staff medical doctor check us out.

LA’s Senior Operational Medic Dr. Johnny Magashitu checked my eyes with a penlight. Asked me a bunch of questions. Checked my balance. My ears were still ringing a little. He said he didn’t think I had a concussion but to let him know if it hadn’t cleared up by tomorrow.

My phone barked. At least that was still working. I checked the display. Oh, boy.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Did I just see you on TV?” Mom was freaking. “It was just a glimpse — I thought it was you — it was so quick. Was it you? There’s a news report about a car bomb in L.A. Were you and Xue anywhere near that? Winston and I are watching it on TV. Winnie’s worried.”

Winnie’s worried? “We’re okay, Mom. We weren’t hurt. We were about half a block away, but we’re fine.”

“It wasn’t your car was it?”

How does she know? “Well, uh, actually, the Bureau’s car, the one we were using — ”

“What!”

“Mom, we’re fine.”

It took me another ten minutes to calm her (and Winny) down. I promised we were being careful.

The destruction was so similar to our car-jacking case, a lot of us wondered if that one would have to be reopened — until the tech guys who swept the scene came up with one crucial piece of evidence from the wreckage just before we went home that night.

A charred and blackened, still somewhat-shiny, gold fountain pen.

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