“In your case, is it the US government this guy is pissed at? Or the Marines? Or was it meant to embarrass the manufacturer of the helicopters? Once we know who the target was, we can begin the process of trying to answer why. Why this target, why now, why here? Why did he place the bomb on the helicopter? There was a specific reason for that. Why not just put a bomb under the target’s car — he’d probably have easier access and less risk. All depends on who the target was.
“You also have to ask why he hit these helicopters and not others. Was he trying to draw attention by using a high-profile event?” She stopped and waited for him to respond. He said nothing. “You hear what I’m saying? Go down the wrong road, you’ll be way off base.”
The counterman placed the two drinks on a tray and slid it over to the register. Uzi handed the man a ten. While waiting for his change, he said, “Okay, disclaimers are out of the way. I know you’re sticking your ass out here. Just tell me what you can.”
Vail sighed. “They’re more than disclaimers. There are some critical pieces of information we don’t have.”
“Understood.” He took the change from the man and led the way to their table. He sat and sipped his coffee, waiting for her to continue.
Vail tipped her mug back and took a sip. “The Stallion was blown out of the sky. A cleverly disguised device, placed strategically at the only weak point this machine has, takes the thing right down. That can mean the UNSUB was really pissed at one or more of the inhabitants and wanted to pulverize them. But since there was another chopper involved that didn’t need to be taken down, I don’t think the Stallion was the target. The type of strike on the Stallion leads me to believe they wanted it out of the way, that it wasn’t important. It’s there for protection, right? Wipe out the guard and you can have your way with your weaker target. Serial killers work the same way.
“Which brings me to the Black Hawk. According to the file, the tail rotor was taken out first. I asked around, and I was told that a really good pilot can fly a chopper with just the main rotor. And the people who fly the Executive Fleet are really good. So assuming the bomber knew that — and I think he must have, otherwise why bother with the tail rotor, he could’ve taken the thing down like he did the Stallion — there was something at play here.”
“Whoever did this,” Uzi said, “wanted his target to experience fear before he died.”
Vail raised the cup toward her lips. “Very good. Did your analytical logic skills come from your engineering background or the Bureau’s renowned training?”
“Neither. I’m just naturally brilliant.”
Vail choked on her sip of coffee. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh.” She dabbed her mouth with a tissue. “Seriously, though. I think you should focus on the inhabitants of the Black Hawk. Find out who Glendon Rusch is, what he stands for. Not just what the media reports, but behind the scenes. Talk to congressmen, find out who hated whom.”
“You feel this could’ve been an inside job?”
“It was an inside job, Uzi. First of all, that was a pretty sophisticated bomb, molded to fit the exterior surface. The labs on the explosive will be super important. We don’t have an intact device, so the next best thing is reconstructing the bomb by the stuff blown off in the periphery. They do a photospectral analysis of the pieces and chemical residues to determine the type of material it was made from. If the preliminary theory is right, and it’s C-4 or Semtex, you’re dealing with limited availability. They could’ve stolen it from the Army or imported it from overseas. Either route involves extensive preparation and resources, indicating a more sophisticated offender.”
“Everything points to C-4.”
“Good. What you’ve given me so far indicates substantial planning and forethought. Whoever did this didn’t download a recipe off the Internet and cook up a fertilizer bomb in his kitchen, then leave it in a backpack by a park bench. C-4 planted on helicopters that transport the president and vice president of the United States means a sophisticated operator.
“But more important than that,” Vail continued, “the main question has to be, How could someone plant bombs on US Marine helicopters used for transporting the executive staff? It’s a question of access. The logical conclusion is that one of the mechanics had to have been involved.”
Uzi sipped his espresso. “We reached the same conclusion.”
“Which provides a link, circumstantial of course, but a link nonetheless, to your murdered Quantico mechanic.”
“See, I knew you were smarter than everyone else said you were.”
Vail grinned. “I won’t let you bait me. Charm works better, anyway.”
“I didn’t think someone who stares at dead bodies all the time could be so beautiful.”
Vail nodded slowly. “That’s a good start. I’ll take more.”
“Later. Let’s go on. What else can you tell me?”
Vail drank from her cup, and then set it down. “Bombers like this are often loners. Maybe this mechanic hated the government.” She held up a hand. “I know what you’re thinking, he worked for the government, and he was considered the best of the best, or else he wouldn’t have gotten this assignment. I agree, but I can’t tell you how many times we’ve discovered that members of our Armed forces harbored deep-seated anger toward the country and everything it stands for. Think Timothy McVeigh. And he’s not the only one — not by a long shot. Nidal Hasan’s a slightly different example, but an example nonetheless.”
“So this guy was a closet anarchist.”
“Something like that.”
“We’re looking at ARM. You know anything about them?”
“Just that Nelson Flint is a bloodsucking good-for-nothing parasite who should be behind bars.”
“I hate it when you hold back,” Uzi said. “Someone on my task force thinks they’re involved.”
Vail cocked her head. “Here’s the thing with that. Typically bombers don’t work in groups. When hate-mongers get together, it’s usually to talk about their complaints, kind of like group therapy, a misery-loves-company type thing. Makes them feel powerful. But they don’t usually gather to act on their gripes. That said, there are notable exceptions, especially in recent history. Militia groups, for one. A recent example is that Hutaree ‘Christian warrior’ militia, which planned to use homemade bombs against federal agents.”
Uzi sipped some more espresso. “I don’t want to miss something important. Before I sell myself on the militia angle, tell me about bombers in general.”
“Some guidelines?”
“Yeah. Like the loner thing. What else — Do they fit into some kind of generalized behavioral mindset?”
“To know the artist, study his art, remember? Bombing is passive-aggressive; the scum suckers who engage in this type of behavior are nonconfrontational. They set the bomb and go away. Poisoners and snipers are the same way. No direct contact with their victims. So when you generalize about who would do something like this, you think of someone who feels they were slighted by their company. So they go into a store and poison the food: others get sick. It’s all done to embarrass the manufacturer.”
“Can you be a little more specific? About our bomber.”
Vail lifted the coffee to her lips. “So you want me fully out on the limb, huh? If the branch breaks—”
“I’ll take full responsibility.”
Vail put her mug down and thought a moment. “White male, forty-five to fifty, probably living on his own, but he has some support system, a person or persons he can confide in. Contrary to what I said a moment ago about loners, I think your guy’s part of a group, an organized militia. He’s neat, clean, very disciplined. Good attention to detail.
“Like I said, bombers tend to shy away from face-to-face confrontation, which is why they use a bomb instead of a knife or gun. But I don’t think that’s the case here. Just the opposite. I don’t think it’s about avoiding a confrontation; he thought — right or wrong — that this was simply the best way for him to accomplish his goal. He’s above-average intelligence. Drives an older SUV or a pickup. Dark or muted color so he doesn’t attract attention.” She took another sip. “I feel like I’m so far out on the limb that the tree is about to tip over. Satisfied?”