I DON'T KNOW what took hold of me. Maybe it was the thought of the three dead people in the house, or all the cops and firemen charging around the accident scene. I stared at that knapsack, and my brain was shouting out that it was wrong - dead wrong. "Everyone get back!" I yelled again.
I started toward the knapsack. I didn't know what I was going to do yet, but the area had to be cleared.
"No way, LT." Jacobi reached for my arm. "You don't get to do this, Lindsay."
I pulled away from him. "Get everyone out of here, Warren."
"I may not outrank you, LT," Jacobi said, more impas-sioned this time, "but I've got fourteen more years on the force. I'm telling you, don't go near that bag."
The fire captain rushed up, shouting into his handheld, "Possible explosive device. Move everybody back. Get Magi-takos from the Bomb Squad1 up here."
Less than a minute later, Niko Magitakos, head of the city's bomb squad, and two professionals covered in heavy protective gear pushed past me, heading toward the red bag. Niko wheeled out a boxlike instrument, an X-ray scanner. A square armored truck, like a huge refrigerator, backed up ominously2 toward the spot.
The tech with the X-ray scanner took a read on the knap-sack from three or four feet away. I was sure the bag was hot - or at least a leave-behind. I was praying, Don't let this blow.
"Get the truck in here." Niko turned with a frown. "It looks hot."
In the next minutes, reinforced steel curtains were pulled out of the truck and set up in a protective barrier. A tech wheeled in a claw and crept closer to the bag. If it was a bomb, it could go off any second.
I found myself in no-man's-land, not wanting to move. A bead3 of sweat trickled4 down my cheek.
The man with the claw lifted the backpack to transport it to the truck.
Nothing happened.
"I don't get any reading," the tech holding the electro-sensor said. "We're gonna go for a hand entry."
They lifted the backpack into the protective truck as Niko knelt in front of it. With practiced hands, he opened the zip-pered back.
"There's no charge," Niko said. "It's a fucking battery radio."
There was a collective sigh. I pulled out of the crowd and ran to the bag. There was an ID tag on the strap5, one of those plastic labels. I lifted the strap and read.
BOOM! FUCKERS.
I was right. It was a goddamn leave-behind. Inside the backpack, next to the standard clock radio, was a photo in a frame. A computer photo, printed on paper, from a digital camera. The face of a good-looking man, maybe forty.
One of the charred6 bodies inside, I was pretty sure.
MORTON LIGHTOWER, read the inscription7, AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE.
"LET THE VOICE OF THE PEOPLE BE HEARD."
A name was printed at the bottom. AUGUST SPIES.
Jesus, this was an execution!
My stomach turned.
1 squad | |
n.班,小队,小团体;vt.把…编成班或小组 | |
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2 ominously | |
adv.恶兆地,不吉利地;预示地 | |
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3 bead | |
n.念珠;(pl.)珠子项链;水珠 | |
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4 trickled | |
v.滴( trickle的过去式和过去分词 );淌;使)慢慢走;缓慢移动 | |
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5 strap | |
n.皮带,带子;v.用带扣住,束牢;用绷带包扎 | |
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6 charred | |
v.把…烧成炭( char的过去式);烧焦 | |
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7 inscription | |
n.(尤指石块上的)刻印文字,铭文,碑文 | |
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