“Well, there was already a crater here. The excavation for the tree.”
“Okay,” said Gross. “So?”
Garchik made a fist and swung it downward. “When you smack the water with your fist, a certain amount of water shoots up on both sides of the hand. Simple concept of volume displacement. Same thing happens with a bomb. If the bomb is aboveground it acts like the fist. It’ll push downward, sideways and also up. But a bomb buried in the ground has a different effect. It will propel mostly upward because it’s covered by looser dirt. Path of least resistance. It still deepened the existing hole.”
“Causing a crater. A bigger crater than if the bomb had been aboveground,” said Stone slowly.
“But the bomb in this case was buried in the dirt, right?” said Gross. He looked at each of them as though waiting for their collective affirmation.
“I wish I could tell you for certain,” said Garchik. “Normally, making that determination is one of the easiest parts of the equation. But here we have a complicating factor. There was already a big crater here before the bomb went off.”
Gross looked confused. “I’m not exactly following you here.”
Stone said, “He means he can’t tell if the bomb was buried in the dirt or may have been in the root ball or even under the tree.” He looked at the ATF agent. “Right?”
“That’s right.”
“Does it matter?” asked Chapman. “In any case the bomb was placed in the park in that hole.”
Gross said, “That’s true. The question is, how did they do it? This is Lafayette Park, not some back alley in Baghdad.”
Stone looked around. Guns and bombs right across from the president’s house. There could only be one answer. “We’ve got a traitor somewhere,” he said.
Chapman added, “And if the PM hadn’t turned his ankle he’d be dead.”
Stone looked at her. “But more to the point, they got a bomb into Lafayette Park. Across from the White House. The most heavily guarded piece of land in the world. How?”
CHAPTER 18
After a minute of silence as they each thought about this question, Gross said, “I just don’t see how anyone could have managed that. This place is under surveillance 24/7.”
“That’s true,” said Garchik.
It is very true, thought Stone. “But all the evidence seems to point to that being the case. A bomb was planted in that hole.”
Gross looked at Chapman and then at Stone. “Do you realize how many people would have to be potentially involved in something like that?”
Stone said, “Well, for starters we need a list of anyone involved with the process of digging that hole and planting that tree. The National Park Service handles all that, but there would have been others involved too.”
Gross pulled out his phone and walked off a few feet as he punched in a series of numbers.
Stone turned to the ATF agent. “Once you determine what sort of bomb it was, what then?”
“We’ll put it on BATS. Bomb and Arson Tracking System. ATF maintains it. It has worldwide reference. Bombers don’t like to deviate from their formula, so they develop signatures. Pretty practical reason. Once they find a method that works, they don’t change it.”
“Because they might blow themselves up with a new method,” said Chapman with a knowing look.
“You got it. Bombers typically like to test out their stuff beforehand, and that’s another way we catch them. Blowing stuff up in the woods and somebody reports them. They never think to realize that they can check all their connections and switches without detonating. Because the bomb materials themselves will go off. The only weak points are the connections and the power source.”
“Maybe these guys like to blow stuff up for the hell of it. Like to see the boom,” observed Chapman.
“I do think that’s part of it,” replied Garchik. “So anyway, we’ll run it through BATS to see if the same signature appears on there. Then maybe we’ll know who our bomber is. I know a lot of signatures from memory, but nothing about this one is striking me as familiar.”
“Anything else?” asked Stone.
“Not right now.”
“Okay, thanks. And let Agent Gross know as soon as you have anything.”
After Garchik walked off, Gross rejoined them, slipping his phone back in his pocket. “All right, I just set off a shitstorm back at WFO.”
Stone eyed the blast seat. “Getting back to basics. Who was the target?”
Gross glanced at Chapman and said, “Pretty clear. British PM.”
“He wasn’t in the park,” replied Stone.
“But he was scheduled to be. At just about the time the bomb went off. It was probably on a timer, despite what Garchik said. It got accidentally triggered, probably when that guy jumped in the hole.”
Stone shook his head. “A mission like this requires precision. By detonating, even accidentally, they give away their whole plan. They won’t get a second shot. They put everyone on alert for no reason at all. And your theory doesn’t explain the gunfire.”
“It doesn’t make much sense when you explain it like that,” admitted Gross.
Stone looked at Chapman. “You keep saying he was scheduled to walk across the park? Who told you that?”
“Got it from the PM’s office.”
Stone looked toward the northern edge of the park and tried to recreate in his mind exactly what he’d seen the previous night. But for some reason the most vivid details just wouldn’t come. Maybe it was his concussion. Or maybe, he admitted to himself, I’m just getting old.
They joined Gross in examining the rooftop garden at the Hay-Adams Hotel. The trees did block the line of sight into the park.
“They were firing blind,” said Gross. “Because if they had a spotter in the park they would’ve known the PM wasn’t there.”
There were markers on the floor showing where all the casings had been found.
Gross said, “TEC-9s, like I said before. Over two hundred rounds. So it was probably multiple guns.”
“Agreed,” said Stone as he gazed at the floor. “And no one below or in the hotel heard or saw anything?”
“I think lots of people heard and saw lots of things. But whether they can remember it correctly and communicate that to us effectively is a whole other question.”
“You’ll obviously match the casings to the slugs found in the park,” said Stone.
“Already done,” replied Gross. “Not that there was much doubt about that.”
“Good, because there’s plenty of doubt about everything else,” noted Stone.
CHAPTER 19
Later that night Stone and Chapman drove back to Stone’s cottage. When he opened the door he glanced to his right when he saw her.
Annabelle was sitting in a chair by the fireplace. He ushered Chapman in as Annabelle rose to greet him. After introducing Chapman to Annabelle, Stone was about to say something when Annabelle held out the book written in Russian. “I guess you’ll be wanting this back. Are you still planning to go on your… trip?”
Stone frowned as he looked down at the book. “There are personal boundaries, Annabelle. And I’ve always respected yours.”
“You’re not going to make me feel guilty about this, Oliver, so don’t even try. I haven’t known you all that long and I think we’ve nearly lost you about five times at least by my count.”
Chapman gazed at Stone in surprise. “I didn’t think you were working anymore.”
Annabelle answered. “He wasn’t. So just think what his mortality rate will be now.”
Stone laid the book down on his desk. “I think I’m clearly old enough to make that decision for myself. And to answer your question, my trip has been postponed.”