Kyle came first. His house, his lead on the stairs. He was a good-looking kid, blond and blue, with a pleasant, intelligent face.
'Hey, Dad. What's up?' his eyes immediately shifted to the three strangers standing in the foyer, and his brows tipped in polite curiosity. No tell there. Total innocence. Christ, the kid was good.
Clark came and stood a step behind his friend, unintentionally showing Magozzi the pecking order. Funny how people positioned themselves in a physical display of hierarchy without ever being taught such a thing. Then again, wolves did it. Why not kids?
Mr. Zellickson, proud papa, put his arm around his son. 'This is my son, Kyle, and this is his friend, Clark. Boys, these two gentlemen are Minneapolis police officers, and this is Agent Smith of the FBI. They'd like to ask you some questions about anything you might have seen at the Metrodome today.'
'Sure thing,' Kyle said pleasantly. 'Although I can't think of anything unusual. Just the usual slew of 'bladers and skaters we see there most of the time.'
Magozzi smiled and nodded. 'How about at the Crystal Court?'
Clark's face went stiff, Kyle's smile faded, and Mr. Zellickson looked puzzled. 'Uh… I thought you said you saw them on surveillance film at the Dome.'
'That's right. And at Crystal Court, and the Mall of America, and I don't know how many other sites where we found boxes. We're still going over the film.'
'Oh, Jesus.' Clark was swallowing hard, over and over again, and beads of sweat popped on his forehead.
Magozzi and Gino both took a step backward as the boy suddenly folded in half and threw up on the Zellicksons' oriental foyer rug. 'It was just a joke,' he wailed, and then threw up again.
'Shut up, for Christ's sake,' Kyle screamed, but as it turned out, Gino barely had time to read them both their rights before Clark started talking.
Magozzi looked down at the mess on the rug and felt bad, then turned up the edge with his toe and immediately felt better. Damn thing was a fake, just like the house and the pretense of a perfect family and the golden boy who was starting to look really tarnished.
Then he saw Mr. Zellickson's world falling apart on his face, and felt really bad all over again.
Officer Haig answered the call for a squad with a cage, which made Gino and Magozzi very happy. The man was in the last quiet year of twenty as a workhorse on the streets, and there was no retirement present that could hold a candle to bringing in some most-wanteds while a hundred cameras were rolling. Magozzi went out to talk to him before Gino and John brought out the little monsters.
'You hit the jackpot, Haig'
Yeah? What have you got?'
'Box boys.'
Haig's forehead wrinkled. You mean the kids who pack up your stuff at the supermarket?' He studied Magozzi's grin for a second, then his graying eyebrows went up to say hello to his hairline. 'No fooling?'
'No fooling. You saw the mess of cameras and reporters at the house, right?'
You mean the ones who've been blocking the streets and sidewalks and the entrances all day? Nah. Didn't notice them.'
'It's worse now than when you went out. All the networks, a ton of cable stations, and a few foreigns have the place surrounded with satellite vans. Looks like the Martians have landed.'
'Don't worry about it. I'll just zip down into the garage like always…'
'No.'
'No?'
'I want you to off-load these boys at the front entrance. Maybe go around the block a couple times before pulling in so the media catches sight of you. We'll be right behind you to help walk them up the steps, but you take the lead with one of them and go slow, got it'
'Wow. I'm going to be on TV.'
'Comb your hair, Haig. The whole world's going to get a look at it by tomorrow morning.'
'Cool.'
Chapter Thirty-six
The media ranks had swelled in the past few hours, vans filling the streets, photogs and reporters milling on the sidewalks and front steps of City Hall. They were all hooked into Dispatch, Magozzi knew, and all had heard that the possible perpetrators of the box fiasco were being brought in. That had been the plan.
Gino looked up at the windows and saw faces at almost every one, watching what was going down. 'This is about as big as it gets, Leo,' he said. We're going to be all over the news.'
'Let's hope it works.'
'It's not going to work. We'll haul these kids off to Federal prison in front of the cameras and a million idiots out there will still think they could do what they did and not get caught. We'll be chasing this tail for years to come. What a rush, closing down a city and getting the attention of the world. Look at this. In less than a week we've got murders on film and a fake terrorist attack, and maybe neither one of those things would have happened without the Internet. Goddamn Web is escalating everything, just like Chelsea said. Somebody's gotta get a handle on this, 'cause there's no going back.'
Officer Haig led Clark up the stairs to City Hall, pausing every few steps, supposedly to look for the men behind him, but actually giving prime shots to all the cameras flashing behind him.
Gino and Magozzi, flanking Kyle on their way up the steps, were forced to stop whenever Officer Haig stopped, and the media cashed in on film of the terrified boys that the satellites sent around the county and the world.
'Jeez, Leo,' Gino said when the hard lights hit his face, 'what happened to Haig's hair?'
Magozzi was trying to look professional and a little mean. A really good-looking woman with BBC all over her microphone was in his face, asking if these were the two perpetrators who had engineered and planted the boxes that had had the world holding its breath all day. 'No comment,' he said, pushing past her gently while dozens of other voices yelled out questions. He leaned toward Gino and whispered, 'I told him to comb his hair, and believe it or not, he pulled a comb out of his back pocket. Looked like Fonzie next to the jukebox, sweeping back the strands, getting ready for the girls.'
'He's pushing sixty, Leo. He's no Fonzie.'
John was trailing behind a few steps. Even in this media age, the Bureau still clutched at the threads of dignity from times past, avoiding the limelight. Hungry reporters and camera operators looked at him curiously, wondering if he was a person of importance, then turned away as if he were an unknown escort on the red carpet, not worth the film.
City Hall was blessedly quiet when they finally managed to get their prisoners inside, but behind closed doors, you could hear the muffled sounds of celebration. A lot of off-duty cops had stuck around after their shifts to revel in the happy ending to a nightmare day, clap each others' backs like the warriors they were, and get the latest gossip.
'We're going to have to give the Chief a couple minutes, John,' Magozzi said. 'Will you and Haig take the prisoners down to a holding cell?'
'My pleasure.'
McLaren ran into them in the hallway on the way to the Chief's office. 'Swe-eet,' he greeted them. 'Well done, guys.'
Gino always tried hard to play the curmudgeon, but nobody could ever accuse him of being unfair or ungracious. He reliably gave credit where credit was due, and today was no exception. 'Are you kidding me, McLaren? We were just your delivery boys. You had the sharp eye, Monkeewrench had the brains, and we had the courage to go bust a couple Clearasil geniuses who puked the minute they saw a cop. Kind of like
'Man, I wish I'd been there. Did they really puke?'
Gino smiled. Yes, they did puke, and oh, it was pretty, my friend. A sight to behold. Normally, you don't
