Sinclair had already been pondering the central question of the missing bomb. “There are only two possibilities — either they took it out and hid it somewhere or… it had never been there.”
“Never there?” Entwhistle looked up from the papers he’d been scanning.
“Either the whole story about the bomb was Nazi disinformation or the sub crew dumped it when the mission was scrammed.”
“What’s your gut telling you?”
Sinclair considered the question. “I’m leaning toward never there — in the bay, at least”
“And why is that, laddie?”
“Just a feeling. With that ex-Navy guy in the mix, I seriously doubt if he would risk trying to move an atomic bomb with, as you say, a bunch of amateurs.”
Entwhistle grinned. “Good point, that.”
“I think our best ally on this will be good intercepts from the police and the Coast Guard. They can do a lot of our work for us.”
“As is our wont…”
Sinclair stood up, uncramped the muscles in his neck. “Okay, let’s pack some gear. We’re going to need some weapons, false IDs, and electronics, the usual.”
“I’m on it,” said Entwhistle. “And some travel arrangements, as well.”
Sinclair nodded as the Brit headed for the door from the conference room to the operations center. Turning to his terminal, he keyed in a request for any additional police intercepts, and was surprised to see one from the local Annapolis boys.
Follow-up interrogation of witnesses at the wharf had conflicting information — there was a possibility there had been an additional diver on the Sea Dog. And there was a Camaro in the parking lot that belonged to a member of the Baltimore City Fire Department, which had been there since the morning of the dive boat’s last trip.
Printing out the info, he knew it could be important. “I want Spruill to find out about that Camaro in the lot. Track down the firefighter who drove it there.”
“I can get Spruill into Baltimore within the hour.”
“Do it.”
He felt good about their decision to pursue, and he felt even better about pulling it off. In fact, the only thing that bothered him even a little bit was the Navy guy.
Navy guys could be trouble.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
They got hung up in the rush hour traffic as they approached the city from the south via I-97, into overflow traffic where it fed I-95, then threaded their way around the harbor toward President Street. But for once, Dex welcomed the delay because the endless river of slow-moving vehicles was perfect cover for him and Tommy. If anyone was looking for them, they had little chance of doing it while they were in transit past the mixing bowl of ramps and connectors in and out of the city. In addition, it would be far better to have the cover of darkness when they approached Augie’s house, and he said as much to Tommy.
“Yeah,” he said. “And we can get in through the back alley, it’s right past the Bocce courts. There’s a little wall right there — ain’t nobody gonna see us.”
“Good thinking.” Dex paused as he switched lanes to avoid a UPS van blocking his view of the traffic flow ahead. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you — you got any guns?”
Tommy chuckled softly. “Well, legally… no. I mean, I got a couple big revolvers down in the basement. They were my uncle’s. Came with the house, and I have no idea where he got ’em. But you can bet your ass he never registered with this stupid State, or whatever you’re supposed to do with them.”
Dex smiled. “What kind of revolvers. Police stuff?”
“Smith and Wesson?” Tommy shook his head. “Nah, I think they’re Colts. Big caliber stuff.”
This was good news to Dex. He liked his firepower on the big side. He never saw anything wrong with killing a fly with an elephant gun. “Sounds like good stuff. They’re not antiques, are they? You know, like the wild west?”
Tommy shrugged. “Not sure. They don’t look super-old. I never really messed with ’em, so I can’t really say.”
“I’ll take a look if we can get into your place safely. Otherwise, we’ll have to move on without them.”
Tommy looked ahead at all the cars snaking through the city. “Which reminds me — just exactly where’re we ‘moving on’ to?”
“I’m still working that out,” said Dex. “Once we see what’s going on at Augie’s, I’ll firm it up and tell you what I’ve been thinking.”
“Not now? How come?”
“Because it might sound dumb as hell if the situation doesn’t warrant it. Just give me a few hours to think it out, okay?”
Tommy rolled his eyes, trying to add a little humor to the mix. “Hey, you seem to dig this mess a lot better than me. I can wait.”
He drove forward in silence for a few minutes until he snailed their way closer to the toll booths for the McHenry Tunnel. “Okay, here’s a problem.”
“What?”
Dex pointed to the little white square on his windshield. “If they have access to the right computers, they could track us with the EZ Pass transponder.”
“You’re kidding.”
“And we don’t have any cash to get through the tunnel.”
“You’re givin’ the bad guys a lot of credit,” said Tommy.
“Listen, until they show me they’re a bunch of fuck-ups, I’m going to assume otherwise.”
He drove through the electronic toll booth and hoped for the best.
By the time they reached Little Italy, the daylight was starting to fade. After parking the truck on South Central between a dumpster and van, they waited until dark when the dinner and tourist crowds would begin to fill the neighborhood with pedestrians. Walking the narrow sidewalks among lots of people would be sufficient cover to get them the four blocks west and into the alley by the bocce ball courts.
Dex was hungry and thirsty. He needed to stretch out and assess the situation, then hope he made the right moves. The streets were already lined with cars looking for curbside parking that didn’t exist. Parking valets from many of the larger restaurants were helping to jam things up even more. Tommy weaved through the people while Dex carefully scanned the random faces they passed to see if anyone was paying more than cursory attention to them.
Nobody was.
“Holy Mother of God!” screeched Augie. He’d just peeked around the crack of his open kitchen door, and under the dangling security chain, saw Tommy standing in the shadows on the back concrete stoop. “Hang on, hang on!”
Dex waited on the lower step while Augie closed the door, followed by loud rattling and scraping and some cursing. Tommy chuckled. “He always has a hard time with that chain.”
“I don’t have the heart to tell him they’re worthless,” said Dex. “Once he opens the door, a good leg kick can take out the chain and the jamb.”
More rattling and chunking of metal, and a latch being thrown. Finally, the door swung inward to reveal the little Italian guy with the rounded shoulders and scoliatic spine. He was still wearing his Orioles cap which looked like it was being stabilized by his large ears. Augie’s smile was wide and genuine, accenting the deep lines in his face. He was a very old guy, but he also looked very healthy.
“C’mon, get in here, you two… I was startin’ to get worried about you boys.”
“We’re cool,” said Tommy. “Just a little hungry and plenty tired.”
“My baby sister brought over a big dish of lasagna — we got somethin’ to eat, don’ worry aboudit.”
Augie led them through the kitchen, which looked like it had been outfitted in 1959. There was a small formica table with chrome tubular legs, and matching chairs with red vinyl seats. The toaster and the stove and the refrigerator were big retro-looking things, only Dex knew they were actually electric antiques. The clock on the wall looked like a cat, and its eyes moved to the swing of its pendulum tail. It was like they’d stepped out of a time machine, and the place had tons of kitschy charm.