the Scarpetta Factor (2009) by Cornwell Patricia - Kay Scarpetta 17

Author:Cornwell, Patricia - Kay Scarpetta 17 [17, Cornwell, Patricia - Kay Scarpetta]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2010-12-20T02:01:35.765000+00:00

It's whatever was in the vial, a glass vial. Droiden opened a black Roco sack and got out evidence bags, an epoxy-lined aluminum can, face masks, and nitrile gloves. Not like anything I've ever smelled before, sort of a petroleum-type smell but not. Like tar, sulfur, and dung.

What was it supposed to do? Marino asked.

I think the point was you open the box, and there's a greeting card inside with the doll attached to the top of it. When you open the card, it explodes, causing the glass vial of this stinky liquid to shatter. The voice module's power source, the batteries, was connected to three commercial repeating aerial bombs tied to an electric match, a professional pyrotechnic igniter. She pointed to what was left of three flash firecrackers attached to a thin bridge wire.

E-matches are very sensitive to current, Lobo told Marino. A few recorder batteries were all it took. But what someone would have had to do was alter the voice module's slide switch and recorder circuit so the battery current set off the explosion as opposed to playing a recording.

The average person couldn't do it? Marino said.

The average person could definitely do it, as long as he's not stupid and follows directions.

On the Internet, Marino thought out loud.

Oh, yeah. You can practically build a fucking atom bomb, Lobo said.

If the Doc had opened it? Marino started to ask.

Hard to say, Droiden said. Could have injured her, that's for sure. Maybe blown a few of her fingers off or gotten glass in her face and eyes. Disfigured her. Blinded her. For sure it would have gotten this nasty-smelling liquid all over her.

I assume that was the point, Lobo said. Someone wanted this liquid on her, whatever it is. And to mess her up pretty good. Let me take a look at the card.

Marino unzipped his briefcase and gave Lobo the evidence pouch Scarpetta had given to him. Lobo pulled on a pair of gloves and started looking. He opened the Christmas card, an upset Santa on the glossy cover being chased by Mrs. Claus with a rolling pin. A woman's thin, off-tune voice singing.Have a Ho-Dee, Do-Dee Christmas . . . Lobo peeled back stiff paper and slid out the voice module as the annoying tune continued,Stick some mistletoe where it ought to go . . . He disconnected the recorder from its batteries, three button batteries, AG10s no bigger than what goes inside a wristwatch. Silence, the wind gusting in from the water and through the fence. Marino couldn't feel his ears anymore, and his mouth was like the Tin Man's, in need of oil. It was getting hard to talk, he was so cold.

A bare talking module ideal for greeting card mounting. Lobo held the recorder close to Marino to show him. The kind used by crafters and do-it-yourselfers. Full circuit with a speaker. Ready-made slider switch for auto play, which is the key to the whole thing. The sliding contact closes the firing circuit and triggers the bomb.

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