“But hang on. Garchik said that dogs could never be fooled. How could Padilla get past that dog with a bomb on his person?”
“Garchik already told us. That was probably the other thing Gross wanted to ask him. What did Garchik tell us about smells?”
“That you couldn’t cover them up from a dog.”
“And he also said that smells were molecular. That’s the reason nothing can contain them. That’s why dogs can sniff out things locked in steel containers, covered in smelly fish and wrapped in miles of plastic.”
“Right.”
“And what did we learn about nanobots?”
“That they’re nasty buggers.” She paused, her jaw slowly descending. “And that they’re molecular too.”
“Exactly. They’re molecular too.”
“Are you saying that they used the nanobots to create a new type of explosive? The nineteen thousandth and first, if you will?”
“No. The ATF apparently found the usual type of explosive debris. Nothing revolutionary at all, which makes the whole thing even more brilliant. They used the nanobots to molecularly change the smell that traditional explosive materials give off. They would still make the thing go boom, but they wouldn’t smell like anything the dogs have been trained to ferret out. That’s how Padilla got past the dog. That was the test. Get past the dog’s nose with a bomb strapped right on your person. And they did it.”
“But why would he do it? He’s not Russian. He’s from Mexico.”
“Mary, where was all the evidence we found pointing to the Russians?”
“The gun and the funny language being spoken. And—” She stopped. “It was all fabricated. To make it look like the Russians were involved.”
“Yes.”
“But he blew himself up. Why? What reason would he have? You said it yourself. They penetrated the most guarded space on earth, for no reason.”
“No, they did it for a reason. A very good one. Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“To see Carmen Escalante. And let’s get there before they kill her too.”
CHAPTER 84
No one answered the knocks at Carmen Escalante’s home. Chapman backed away from the front door and eyed the windows. “Do you think she’s gone for good? Or someone’s taken her?”
Stone peered through the window on the left side of the door. “The place still looks lived in. She might have just gone somewhere.”
“So Padilla blew himself up. Why?”
“That’s why I’m here. To ask Carmen if she might know why.”
“So you think she’s in on it?”
Stone didn’t answer right away, principally because he didn’t know how to answer. “I don’t think so, but there’s no guarantee.”
“But if she’s not in on it she won’t be able to help us.”
“Not necessarily.”
Stone moved around to the rear of the house and Chapman followed.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Now we know or at least strongly suspect Padilla was the bomber. We can ask her questions we couldn’t before. If she’s involved, we’ll know pretty quickly. Then we can take her into custody and question her officially. If she’s not involved she may be able to tell us something helpful. Something her uncle mentioned. Something she overheard. Visitors he might have had here.”
Stone tried the back door but it was locked.
Chapman put her face to the rear window and looked inside. “Nothing. But she could be lying dead and out of sight. Do we break in?”
Stone already had two slender instruments out of his pocket. “It’s a deadbolt. It’ll take a little time.”
Chapman put her elbow through the glass, reached through the broken pane and turned the lock. “My way’s quicker.”
Stone slowly put away his lock-pick tools. “You break and enter a lot in your line of work?”
“Only when I’m bored.”
They passed through the door and into the small kitchen.
“Food in the fridge and dirty plates in the sink,” said Chapman as she looked around.
Stone looked at the dried food. “Breakfast, probably from today.”
Guns out, they moved into the hall and quickly searched the main level.
“Okay, no bodies on this floor,” said Chapman. “Let’s try upstairs.”
A two-minute search there turned up nothing.
Chapman flicked through the clothes in the young woman’s closet. “Some nice things in here. Maybe she got paid off. That story about donations might have been bullshit.”
Stone pointed to the set of braces in the corner. “How can she walk without those?”
Chapman examined them. “These are her old ones. Remember she said she was getting a new pair?”
Stone looked around the room. “Okay, Padilla was involved. We have the Latinos in Pennsylvania involved.”
“And they’re dead too. Whoever their employer is, he’s not too loyal.”
“Or he simply demands the ultimate sacrifice from his people,” replied Stone.
They went back downstairs.
“Do we wait for her to come back?” asked Chapman.
Stone shook his head. “I’ve got a feeling this place is being watched. So they know we’re interested in her again.”
“So you’re saying we might have just signed her death warrant, you mean?”
“If we could only find out where she’s gone.”
They went out the back door and walked around to the front. Stone looked up and down the street.
Chapman said, “It seems this might be a neighborhood where some nice old lady might be peering out her window to see what’s going on.”
“Good idea. You take this side of the street and I’ll take the other.”
At the fourth house Chapman tried, a tiny black woman in her seventies with white hair answered the door.
“Saw you poking around. About to call the police but then it struck me you might be the police,” she said matter-of-factly. “Not too many folks look like you wandering around here.”
Chapman showed her badge and called Stone over.
“This is my partner,” she told the older woman. “We’re trying to find out where Carmen Escalante is. She’s the woman with the braces whose uncle—”
The woman cut her off. “I watch the news. I’ve seen Carmen around. But she’s not home now.”
“Any idea where she might be?” asked Stone.
“Left around nine this morning,” said the woman. “They come for her in the big black truck.”
Stone and Chapman exchanged glances. “Who came for her?” asked Chapman.
“Government folks. You know, in suits and such. With sunglasses. She’s got some memorial service to go to today.” She paused and eyed them suspiciously. “Don’t you two watch the news?”
Stone said, “Do you know where the memorial service is being held?”
“You don’t know that, maybe you ain’t the police.”
“We are the police,” insisted Stone. “Do you know where the memorial service is being held?” he asked again, in a more urgent tone.
“Why don’t you just call into headquarters or some such and find out?”
She closed the door in their faces.
Stone pulled out his phone as they hustled back to the car.
“Oliver, what is going on?”
“We talked about how the bomb going off would cause events to be moved elsewhere, away from the park.”
“Right, but that got us nowhere.”