He opened the stall door and there was a small box on the floor. He took the lid off and there wires and a block of plastic, and some other circuitry he didn’t recognize. This had to be it.
“Hey, buddy, think I got it.”
“Where?”
“Backstage restroom stall. You think you can get back here?”
“On the way.”
Motz approached the stage area, and luckily he was recognized by the cop who had the security detail for the show, and a moment later he was in the restroom with Walter. Walter moved aside, and he took a look at the bomb.
“I’ve never seen anything quite like that. That’s enough plastique to level the building twice. These guys aren’t fooling around.”
“You think you can disarm it?”
“Let me take a look.”
He looked the bomb over and thought he had the mechanism figure out, and removed some tools from his pocket.
“Crap,” he said a moment later, “Doesn’t matter what I do. It’s some kind of remote detonator, but nothing I’ve ever seen. Why don’t you just get it the hell away from here?”
“Okay, be back shortly,” Walter said.
He scooped the bomb up, looked for a window, and was gone in a flash. He flew straight up, figuring on letting the bomb detonate far away from anything. He was about 5000 feet up when he heard a high-pitched whine come from the package, then a small puff of smoke escaped, and a plastic sign popped up with ‘BOOM’ written on it in cartoonish neon green letters.
Larry Wilkins looked over the bomb and shook his head.
“The entire thing was a hoax?”
“Seems so,” said Motz
“Why go through all that hassle?”
“To get me out of the way,” Walter said, “Did anything else go down around the same time?”
“We’ll look into that and let you know.”
“Think about it. Stage something to get me out of the way and commit a crime somewhere else. Makes sense to me.”
Wilkins scratched his head. “Makes you wonder what would be so important to stage a ruse like this.”
“Maybe this,” Motz said, looking up from his computer, “Report just came in about a semi hijacked and all the cargo stolen.”
“Where was that?” Wilkins asked.
“Happened on 75, near Lockland. Found the driver knocked out on the side of the highway…truck’s nowhere to be found.”
“Did someone get a statement from the driver?”
“He has a concussion and his memory is a little hazy. Says he was forced off the road by a couple cars driving erratically. Next thing he remembers he’s lying in the ditch and the truck’s gone.”
“What was he carrying?”
“Whole cargo was heading to Wright-Patt. Got a copy of the bill of lading here, but I can’t make heads or tails out of these part numbers.”
“We’ll have to contact someone at the base and find out what they were expecting.”
“Guys, you care if I head home now?” Walter asked
“Yeah, thanks for your help. Go get some rest. We’ll let you know what we find out.”
11
Over an hour went by and Franklin and Kendra had no shortage of conversation topics, finally drifting away from Walter.
“Well…I tried to play sports in school…one year of basketball. I wasn’t that good,” she said.
“Only basketball I ever played was on the playgrounds. Never played on any team. Wish I could have tried it.”
“You any good?”
“Like I said, I never played on a team…but I got an ok jump shot. I’m the only black kid that can’t dunk.”
Kendra was taking a sip and spit her drink out in laughter, then picked up a napkin and wiped the drink off Franklin’s face.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said between giggles, “I didn’t mean to do that.”
“It’s okay. I didn’t think that was that funny.”
“I needed a laugh. It’s been a long day. You think I could see that killer jump shot?”
“Well, it’s dark out now—”
“No silly, maybe tomorrow. I’m off work.”
“I got my test in the morning, not sure how long it takes.”
“Test?”
“GED. Walter insisted.”
“He’s a smart guy. You think you’re ready?”
“Oh yeah, been studying all week.”
“What time is the test?”
“9:00.”
“Then that’s it. I’ll drop you there, and when it’s over, we hoop it up.”
“Seriously?”
“Sure. Why not? It’ll be fun.”
“Where? There’s a court not far from Walter’s.”
“Right across the street at the gym. My parents got me a membership and I have guest access.”
“The L.A. Fitness over there?”
“Yeah.”
“Never been in a fancy place like that.”
“It’s great. Got a full court in there, all the machines you’d ever hope for, pool, hot tub—”
“Okay, I’m sold.”
“Great, it’s a date then.”
“Uh…sure.”
“Franklin…it’s a good thing black folk don’t blush.”
“We can, just it doesn’t show.”
“It's as close to showing as I’ve ever seen. When’s the last time you had a date?”
“Well…uh…”
“I thought so. When’s Walter coming back?”
“Not sure. He got a call from a cop and split. Depends on what the emergency is.”
“Can you get ahold of him?”
“I can text him. Don’t want to call in case he’s somewhere he can’t answer.”
“Tell him you got a ride home.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. People are watching us here. How far away do you guys live?”
“Not far, down by U.C.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
Walter showed up at the IHOP five minutes later to find that Franklin was nowhere to be found. He checked the restroom and then thought to check his phone. There was a text.
Hey Gramps. Got a ride home. Later, F.
“You looking for your friend?” the server asked.
“Yeah, but he sent me a text. Said he got a ride home.”
“You just missed him. They left a couple minutes ago.”
“They?”
“Yeah, he left with Kendra. Man, they were talking up a storm before they left,” she said with
