Read Time Bomb for Free Online Page B

Lent.”
    He gulped another gargantuan piece of steak. The meat was bloody-rare and some juice dribbled down his chin. He dabbed at it. “Did I ever tell you I once had a girlfriend?”
    “Never.”
    “Yup. High school days.”
    “I’m not surprised.”
    “No? What the hell
does
it take to surprise you?”
    “How about an honest politician?”
    His laugh was harsh. “Yeah, find one, put him in the cage next to the condor.”
    I said, “Why bother?”
    He laughed some more.
    “Any indication the Burden girl was aiming at Latch or Massengil?”
    “Ye olde participatory democracy?”
    “I’m serious, Milo. Being able to tell the kids they weren’t the targets would make my job easier.”
    “Then, by all means, go ahead and tell ’em.”
    “No,” I said. “If I say it, I want it to be true.”
    “Sorry, then,” he said. “Nothing solid to give you. She didn’t leave any political message at the scene, far as I know. No fringies have called yet expressing solidarity, and Frisk said he didn’t recognize her name offhand from his subversive lists, though like I said, they’ll be running her through the software. Maybe he’ll turn up something at her house—some diary, or wacko manifesto. Mean-while, all we’ve got is one dead girl and lots of question marks.”
    He thought for a moment. “If she
was
trying for one of them, my guess would be Massengil. Looks like no one except Latch’s insiders knew their boy was going to be there.”
    “The press knew.”
    He shook his head. “Uh-uh. Only about Massengil. That much I confirmed from talking to the reporters. The invite came from Massengil’s staff this morning. It was supposed to be a one-man show. Latch didn’t announce he was coming. The idea was to surprise the enemy.”
    “How’d Latch find out Massengil was going to be there?”
    “Once the press knew, it wouldn’t be too hard for anyone to find out, would it?”
    I said, “Anyone?”
    “Anyone in the grapevine. Frisk does his job correctly, that’s the first thing he’ll check about her. Maybe she once worked for Massengil—or Latch. Or knew someone who did. No one on either staff recognized her name, but she could have been been low-level—stuffing envelopes, whatever. Some meek little gofer they treated like shit, never took the time to notice. She swallows it for a while, then quits. No one notices she’s gone. Meanwhile, she’s smoldering, making plans for vengeance. Fits the mass-killer profile. Then again, maybe the political thing was coincidental—Latch and Massengil had nothing to do with it. Maybe all she wanted to do was kill kids, and bigger game intruded.”
    “Local girl makes bad,” I said. “Wonder if she attended Hale.”
    “Revenge for a bad report card?”
    “Got anything that makes more sense?”
    “As a matter of fact I don’t,” he said. “So far this is your quintessential senseless crime—as opposed to all the real sensible ones we get.”
    “Were the reporters there when the shooting started?”
    He shook his head. “No. The press conference wasn’t called until one. Massengil showed up half an hour before, walking around the yard, ‘observing.’ Latch dropped in on him a few minutes later.”
    I said, “If Latch’s intention was to upstage Massengil, why not arrive when the media were in place? Make a dramatic entry.”
    “We wondered about that too. According to Frisk, Latch’s explanation was that his object wasn’t to confront Massengil but to
defuse
him. He was giving Massengil a chance to call the whole thing off before the cameras showed up.”
    “Saint Gordon.”
    “Yeah, and I’m Mother Teresa. My guess is his real intention was to
spook
Massengil, work him up good. Massengil’s got a reputation for having a short fuse—got into a punch-out with another politico couple of years ago, likes to yell back at hecklers, go head to head. Latch probably figured in half an hour he could get the guy
apoplectic
by the time the media