Disco Bomb

Chapter 12

May 15th, 2017. 12:30 PM

Jack nodded absentmindedly as Carmen rattled on and on on the other end of the phone. As far as he could tell, the talk with the other real estate agent had gone well and she'd gotten a name. Then she was yelling at Ross to quiet down (he could hear him shouting in the background) and then talking some more.

"Jack, did you hear what I just said?"

"Yeah, you found a name. Who is it?" He picked his pencil up off the floor, preparing to add notes to the growing file on the explosion cases.

"Someone named Bruce Dane. I don't have a face to go with it."

"Tell me you asked her to describe him." Jack snapped his fingers and motioned for Brandon to come over. At least his friend had healed considerably after being blown up. "The mayor's harping on my ass about the museum explosion. I can't afford to not know."

"Sorry to disappoint, but she had clients."

"So do you, and you're still helping." He put his hand over the speaker when Brandon came in. "Look up Bruce Dane and find his buddies. He might be our guide." Then he put the phone back to his ear.

"... All defensive about him," Carmen was saying. "She is dating him, after all. Oh, that's another thing I should tell you about."

"What, the guy behind the bombing is more handsome than me? I didn't think that was possible."

"No. Maybe. If it helps, you've got the biggest ego on the planet."

It didn't help.

But Brandon did. His friend dumped a small stack of papers on the desk and pointed to a list of phone contacts with pictures on the side. Specifically, to a man with short, grey hair that matched that of the man's in the drive-by shooting.

Jack smiled. "Scott, Dane has a long list of phone contacts. One of them is Bailey Sykes, a retired night guard from -- wait for it -- Westshire Law Museum. He's the grey-haired guy from the shooting video. Even better, this Bruce Dane is the red-head sitting next to him."

There was a moment of silence on the other end. "Great. As I was saying, Dane told Monica he'd take her to a dance this Friday, that he'd bought tickets and everything. I'm guessing there'll be another bomb wherever that is."

"What do you mean, 'wherever that is'? How long did this talk last?"

"Dane's rich. I was hoping you'd have some idea of where this dance might be."

Jack frowned, trying to remember. "I did get a request to post security at this one event. Let me find it."

He put the phone down and turned to the massive filing cabinets lined up against the wall. He pulled open a drawer labeled "guard postings" and shuffled through the file folders until he came to one labeled "May". No, no, no... This might be it, he thought.

It was the 23rd Annual Grand Gala, a yearly event held for a select few and not advertised to people outside of the invite list. Jack checked the invite list that had been sent to him for security purposes, scanning through the names. Bruce Dane was on there, but Sykes wasn't. Perhaps he would be driving the getaway car after Dane set the bomb. That could've been his role.

Lane picked the phone up again. "The Annual Grand Gala. Ball Plaza, Seven-thirty. I've already hired some of my guys for security, but I'll pull a few strings and set up undercover so Dane doesn't notice." He put his hand over the speaker again and spoke to Brandon. "I want Lance, Riley, Connie, Angela, and Jess. You're coming, too. Don't leak any of this to anyone else."

Brandon smirked. "You're going to ask Scott, aren't you?"

"If she rejects me and you laugh, I'm going to rip your fucking head off."