Chapter 50
Irecognized Coach Crawford right away. In his blue windbreaker, he was on the right team. He had brown hair and a bushy mustache and the face of a man who didn't put up with any nonsense. His rough voice had been hewn from countless hours screaming at players.
He escorted us into the locker room that smelled like sports tape, menthol, and body odor.
Jerseys and shoulder pads hung from racks, and the home team locker room was decked out with the school colors of blue, white, and gold, along with paintings of the mascot.
In the center of the locker room, Coach Crawford pointed at the ceiling. "Don't ask me what made me look up, but something did. Maybe a sign from God. But that doesn’t look like any smoke detector I've ever seen. And I can tell you, it wasn't there before."
I looked up at the disk-shaped device that resembled the bomb we found at Big Tony's. This was a little larger. A few colored buttons glowed, and lights blinked. It had the same semi-spherical core.
With the phones jammed, I couldn’t call the sheriff, and I didn't have a walkie-talkie handy.
I thanked Coach Crawford and told him he might want to get out of here.
It didn't take much convincing.
Before he left, he said, "The stadium holds 50,000 people. 25,000 of them in the stands right above this locker room. Just something to chew on.”
“And you saved their lives,” I told him.
Crawford shook his head. "I haven't done anything yet. That's up to you. There are still a lot of people in that parking lot.”
Crawford hurried out of the locker room, and I told Jack to find the sheriff and Thompson. We need to get some imaging of that device. I doubt the design is identical to prior devices, but it might be similar.”
Jack dashed out of the locker room.
I stayed there to guard the device. I didn't think anybody would come into the locker room and start poking around, but I didn’t want to take any chances. I'm sure this device had motion sensors and other anti-tamper mechanisms.
With the way things had been going, I wasn’t keen on hanging around any longer than necessary.
After more time than I would have cared to spend in the locker room, Jack returned with the sheriff, Special Agent Thomson, and an entourage of federal agents. They all hovered around, staring up at the device.
With the bomb’s position on the ceiling, we couldn't get a DR plate behind it to do an X-ray. The thermal imager gave us an idea of the temperature fluctuations in the device, but it wasn't crystal clear.
I studied the imaging. It shared similar characteristics with the first bomb, but this was far more complex.
More wiring, more backup batteries, more yield, and I'm sure there were considerably more false circuits.
This bomb was designed not only for destruction, but to take up a substantial amount of time. Time that we were running out of.
"When’s this thing going to go off, Wild?" Thompson asked.
"He said noon, but I wouldn't trust him."
Thompson's face tightened as he considered his options. "I think it's too risky to fool with. Hell, we don't even have a bot that can reach up that high. Let's evacuate and clear the building. Get all these people out of the parking lot and establish a perimeter. I think that's our only option.”
People stood around, a little frozen with fear and panic.
"You heard me. Get moving!"
With that, the crowd dispersed.
Jack pulled me aside and muttered, "You mentioned something about a diversion. What’s the real target?”
I shared my theory.
We found the sheriff. I filled him in, then we looked for Thompson. He hadn’t wanted to hang around the locker room any longer than necessary and had marched across the concourse. We caught up to him and followed along as I pitched my idea.
Thompson scoffed. "Do you have anything to back up your theory?”
"No. Just a hunch.”
"I'm not taking manpower away from this site just to go off on a wild goose chase. Do you have any idea of the chaos that’s going to ensue once that bomb explodes?
We have no idea what that yield is. It could level the whole stadium, maybe more.
I honestly have no idea what a safe perimeter is.
And it's gonna take every available officer just to get these nitwits out of the parking lot.
I don't know if you've noticed, but they’re not budging.”
We stepped outside the stadium. A federal agent with a megaphone shouted across the angry mob. "I repeat, today's game has been canceled. We apologize for any inconvenience. Please move in an orderly fashion to the exit as soon as possible. Thank you for your cooperation. Tickets will be refunded.”
A chorus of boos filled the air. A legion of angry men with painted faces, amped up on testosterone and liquid courage, would make a formidable enemy. There were too many to forcibly remove. This was a powder keg, in more ways than one.
We weren’t outfitted in riot control gear. It would take a few minutes to get tear gas and water hoses to disperse the crowd. And then, that would be a publicity nightmare and probably not effective.
In an effort to avoid panic, the words bomb threat hadn't been used. That was the last thing you wanted to say to a crowd this size.
“This is fucking bullshit!” someone shouted.
The mob began chanting, "We won't go! We won't go!"
Deep and ominous, the chant rumbled with authority.