Ratio: A Leopold Blake Thriller (A Private Investigator Series of Crime and Suspense Thrillers) (19 page)

A LITTLE OVER a mile from Washington State Convention Center, the sprawling park once host to the 1962 Seattle World’s Fair was still one of the most popular attractions in the city. Various exhibition centers and museums, the Opera House, places to eat, the Space Needle, and several open grassy areas made it ideal for picnickers, joggers, and sightseers. The area around the park was high-density housing, small businesses, and high-tech industry, including medical research and public health organizations. Broad boulevards ran directly into downtown, streaming with heavy traffic in both directions. 

The news that the President would attend Washington State Convention Center that day traveled fast. Through the magic of modern social media, thousands of political protesters had already gathered at the shady park, a designated “free speech zone.” The irony was not lost on them. 

While protestors organized themselves, Seong-min and Jun-yeong rode along quietly in their utility van, both dressed in tattered coveralls and bright yellow high visibility vests. The Saturday morning traffic was already busy and they hit every stoplight. Jun-yeong lit a cigarette and rolled the window down to let the smoke out. 

“So much for planning ahead,” he said.

“There’s enough time,” said Seong-min. “The protest shouldn’t start for another hour yet. They’re still letting people through.”

“We hiding the packages? Or leaving in plain sight so they can be found?”

“Hide them, but not too much. The point is, they have to be found by bomb squads.  One or two are set to detonate, but the rest need to be left alone. Keep everyone busy trying to defuse them.”

“How about in trash cans? That should slow them down.” Jun-yeong flicked his cigarette out the window. Seong-min parked the van at the curb. Dropping a few coins into the parking meter, they grabbed their rucksacks out of the back, one each, and headed off into the sprawling park. The demonstrators were gathering, making progress slow. Nobody paid them any attention. 

They hiked over a low grassy knoll and found a kiosk with a map to the park. One of the exhibition halls stood close by, surrounded by trees. It was closed for the day. All around, people streamed in from surrounding streets, kids holding parents’ hands, women pushing strollers, adults carrying cups of coffee. From the map, it appeared the exhibition hall had only four entrances altogether, one on each side. A trashcan sat next to one of the doors. They made their way over, the crowds lessening as they drew nearer. 

Seong-min pointed off to one side. “You go to the doors on the left and around the other side. If there’s a garbage can, put the thing in there with some trash over it. Needs to be well enough hidden that nobody stumbles across it.”

“But not so well hidden the emergency services can’t find them after the first two go off. Yeah, yeah, I get it.” He paused. “And if someone sees me?”

“Chances are, they’ll think we’re the garbage men.”

“And if they don’t?”

Seong-min frowned. “Run like hell.” 

Jun-yeong went off to the left. Seong-min stalled for a moment, waiting for the perfect moment. Couples strolled past, oblivious. A small group of protesters marched by, placards held high, staring straight ahead. Seong-min marched forward, not too fast, not too slow. He set the rucksack on the floor and pulled out a shoebox-shaped parcel. He stuffed it into the trashcan. 

Looking around, he went off to the other side of the building, to the right. That door was a utility and service entrance, something employees and vendors would use. No trashcans, but a row of dumpsters up against a wall. He tried them each in turn, but couldn’t get the lids open wide enough. 

He checked inside the second shoebox. Inside lay a large black plastic pipe. It was capped at both ends, with a pair of wires leading out directly into the back of an old cell phone, nestled in a bed of metal nails and screws. The payload was small, but enough to make a hell of a noise, and throw up enough smoke and debris to get people panicked. 

Seong-min doubled checked the contents. No way to unbox it without compromising the setup. He improvised, reaching into the dumpster and fishing out handfuls of trash. He lay the box down on the asphalt, covered it old soda cans and wrappers and torn-up paper bags. Not perfect, a strong wind would blow away the camouflage, but it should hopefully be good enough for a few hours. The wall kept most of the breeze away.  

He picked up the phone, saw the time, and checked his watch. In a few hours, Seong-min would call in the bomb tip. When the emergency services arrived, he would detonate two of the devices remotely. Keep all eyes away from the convention center. 

He took a deep breath, looked around for any signs he was being watched, and headed back to join Jun-yeong, keen to get as much distance between him and the park as humanly possible.

Chapter 30

JOANNE HARPER WAS already elbow-deep in paperwork when Leopold arrived. He knocked on the door and let himself in as she looked up, closing her laptop. She didn’t looked pleased to see him. 

“You’ve got a problem,” Leopold said. 

“It’s standing right in front of me.” 

“When’s the last time you checked the hotel and convention center ventilation systems?” 

Harper sighed. “We’ve done our due diligence.” 

“Gustafson said he had two teams down there checking the units. After the Secret Service teams had finished. Did you check their work?”

“Listen carefully, Blake. I run a team of professionals, we don’t miss things like that. My team checks the systems each morning, then they’re due to check again before the President arrives. The seals are in place, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

“The filtration system doesn’t have a seal.”

“Of course not,” Harper said, getting up. “Otherwise the air flow would be compromised. It’s been checked for foreign bodies, and a chemical residue test as well. We’ve covered the whole basement.” She glared at him. “This is none of your concern.”

“Not all payload delivery systems can be detected with chemical residue test or other monitoring equipment. You need to do a full visual.” 

“That would put the whole infrastructure out for the full day. We don’t need that sort of disruption.” 

“What kind of disruption do you think there would be if the President had to be rushed out halfway through his speech?” 

“An acceptable risk, considering the likelihood of something getting past us. We can’t tear apart every inch of the venue, and we can’t cancel appearances just because of one civilian’s opinion.” She walked to the door. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got work to do.” 

“I assume you won’t mind me running a sweep of my own?”

“Do what you like. But if you put my people out for even a second, I’ll have you thrown out. Are we clear?” She held the door open. 

Leopold left her office. “Crystal.”

Chapter 31

JUNE HAD NO clothes of her own in Jack’s room, except those she had worn the night before. Getting dressed, she knocked on the door to the hallway and then opened it. No one was there.

“So much for security,” she muttered to herself. She patted her pockets and found her key card. Closing the door behind her, she looked both ways down the hallway. Deserted. Both stairwell doors were still secured. The elevator was just out of sight around the corner. She walked over to her own suite, opened the door.

“Hello?” she called out. “Housekeeping?”

She was alone in her room. Pacing over to the entertainment center, she found an album she liked and hit play. She found her purse and checked for the pendant Amy had given her. It was exactly where she left it.

Removing her clothes as she walked, she tossed them onto her unused bed and went for a shower. She noticed the bathroom had been tidied, her clothes from the day before cleaned, pressed, and hung in the closet. After her shower, she wrapped in a towel and checked her phone for messages. Nothing. 

She blow-dried her hair and grabbed something to eat from the refrigerator. An apple clenched in her teeth, she went back to the bedroom to dress. With no idea of what the plans were for the day, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a long sleeve T-shirt, with a colorful vest over the top. A pair of soft cotton socks felt good on her cold feet.

The ventilation duct next to the kitchenette rattled as the system kicked on. June gave the grate a swat with her hand and walked past. Rubbing her arms for warmth, she went back to the bathroom and turned on the small wall heater. Waiting for it to warm up, she looked in the mirror. The easy morning of lounging in bed had done her good, along with the long hot shower. 

“Doctor Kato?” a voice came from somewhere in the suite. 

June peeked her head through the door. A man stood in the living room. Hispanic, dark skinned and dark haired. She couldn’t place his age. He was dressed in a Real Madrid soccer shirt and jeans, red baseball cap, a carrier bag in one hand. 

“Who the hell are you?” June said. “Another security guard?”

“What’s the matter, you don’t recognize me?” Something in the voice was familiar. 

June’s eyes focused. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Surprise.” Jack Melendez’s trademark grin. “You like the new look?”

“Jack, what the hell?” She flopped down on the bed.

He sat down next to her. “How about we go out for a walk. Get out of this place for a while?”

June looked up at him. “Seriously? We can go out? How many of your thugs are joining us?”

“
Solo dos de nosotros
,” he said.
Just the two of us.
Other than on one occasion, several years before when he was addressing the Mexican community in Los Angeles, it was the first she had heard him speak Spanish.

“This isn’t a good look for you,” she said back.

“
Medida temporal, Señorita. Viene conmigo?
”

“It better be temporary. You look like an idiot.” June sat up on the bed. “But what’s going on? I thought we couldn’t go out unless they had a field trip organized for us?”

“It’s a nice day and I told them we wanted to go out. Jerome agreed it was a reasonable excuse for him to scope out some of the areas near the convention center. I’ve got some clothes for you too.” 

June glanced at the bag he had in his hand, afraid of what they may have dreamed up for her. “Which is?”

“A gift from Leopold. I think he really gets your sense of style.”

She opened the bag and pulled out a shirt, holding it up. It was a Hello Kitty T-shirt, but with a twist. 

Jack smiled. “Evidently, he found it in some urban wear shop up the street somewhere.”

She sighed. “Yeah, well, ordinarily Hello Kitty isn’t my style, but Hello Kitty with a Mohawk and tats makes a statement somehow. And if it gets us out of this prison for a while, I’d wear almost anything, even Urban Gangsta Kitty.”

She took off her vest and slipped the new shirt over her top. Looking in a hallway mirror, she tried the double shirt arrangement tucked into her pants and untucked for the best look. She had a hard time with it.

“The thing is, you’ll have to keep it on no matter what,” Jack called out. 

“Oh?”

“There’s a tiny tracking chip in the tag. I have one too. They gave me a cell phone to use if we need it.” He slipped it out of his pocket and showed her. 

“I can bring my own, Jack.”

“No. This has a panic button. Dial one-six-one-eight and they get a panic signal and our location.”

“One-point-six-one-eight,” June said. “Phi, the Golden Ratio again?”

Jack nodded. “Sort of our little theme for this trip, isn’t it? They thought it would be easy for us to remember but almost impossible to accidentally dial.”

“Yeah, theme.” She went to her purse and got the pendant to wear. She gave it to him to put on her.

Jack obliged. 

“Speaking of phi,” she said, “look closely at the pearl. See anything?”

“I see a very expensive pearl. Why?”

She turned around to face him. “The setting is shaped like a phi symbol. The pearl is the round part of the symbol, and the setting completes the shape.”