War at Home: A Smokey Dalton Novel (38 page)

I had no idea. But I couldn’t condemn Whickam for giving in to her.
Nor was I really upset that he had come for her, even though his attempt to bring her home had failed.

We had no idea what the future would bring, what would happen to our children, and how we could protect them.
We could only do our best.

And sometimes our best simply wasn’t good enough.

THIRTY-EIGHT

On the walk home, I thought about a lot of things.
I worried that someone had seen me with that gun.
I hoped no one was watching the apartment.
I certainly didn’t want to show up in some file, looking angry, a shotgun clutched in my hands.

That slight movement I had seen near the apartment still worried me.
A lot of these militant groups had undercover agents inside the organization or surveillance outside.
I could only hope that no one had discovered Daniel’s group yet, or if they had, they hadn’t taken any photographs of me.

But there was nothing I could do about it now.
Even the hope felt futile, and it took a moment to understand why.

That conflict I’d felt earlier, between my duty to Grace and my responsibility as a person who knew about a potential crime had just increased.
I no longer doubted Daniel’s capacity for violence.

I didn’t even know how to talk to her, which was probably why I hadn’t called her yet.
I wasn’t sure she’d believe me if I told her who Daniel had become and what he was doing.
I was afraid she’d spend money she didn’t have to come to New York, only to get turned away the way that René Whickam had.

The next day was the Fourth of July, followed by a long weekend.
People would be out of town.
Offices would be closed.
I could do some investigating, but not a lot.

And then I stopped.

What had Daniel said?
He had said something would happen tomorrow.
I had to concentrate to recall the context.

When you tear down society
, I had asked him,
then what’ll you do?

Build a better one
, he’d said.
I asked how, and he said,
You’ll know tomorrow
.

Tomorrow.
The Fourth of July.

That map I had found in the Barn had had a seven and a four written next to the circled site marked with the exclamation point.
I had thought those numbers meant 74.
But what if they meant 7/4 — the Fourth of July?

I went cold.
I hadn’t kept the map, but I had memorized it.
Only I didn’t know what was at that location.
It was on the southern tip of the island, near Battery Park.
A lot of government buildings were there.
But what was on the corner of Whitehall and Pearl?

I needed to find out.

Our maps were in the van, which was in Newark.
I went down to the nearest subway platform, but the subway map didn’t tell me what was at that corner either, although there was a stop nearby.

I would have to go there myself.

The holiday was already starting.
Someone posted the subway’s holiday hours all over the booth.
People were pushing each other, smiling despite their hurry.

I had to get back to the apartment.
I had two boys to take care of, a federal holiday to deal with, and a possible bombing target.

What I needed was a plan.

I had one by the time I reached 114
th
Street.
If Daniel’s group decided to bomb a building at Whitehall and Pearl, they were probably planning to plant the bomb tomorrow, when most people were out of town.

If I watched the area, I would see them arrive.
I could call the police anonymously and stop the bombing.
I’d be able to report who planted the bombs as well, and then let the authorities make a case against Daniel and his friends.

The plan had a lot of flaws.
For example, Daniel could have already planted the bomb, and he — or someone else — would detonate it tomorrow.
I would have to keep a reasonable distance from the building itself, just in case.

And there was also a good chance that the seven and the four on that map did mean 74.
Whether that was a measurement, an address
,
or a code, I wouldn’t know.

But if I was right about the date, I might be able to stop something ugly.

Malcolm and Jimmy were already home when I arrived.
They were sharing some lemonade at the kitchen table, the door to the hallway open so that the cool breeze from the air
conditioner could filter into the room.

They looked surprised to see me.
I told them that I had seen Daniel, and the case was as hopeless as Malcolm had feared.
Then I told them about the possib
ility of a
bomb, and my plans to stop it.

Jimmy pushed his lemonade away.
“I don’t want you to go.”

“I know,” I said.

“How come it’s always gotta be you? How come nobody else can do this stuff?”

“Just call the cops,” Malcolm said. “Let them deal with it.”

I had poured myself a glass of lemonade and joined them at the table.
“And be on record making a bomb threat?
I don’t think so.”

“They’d know it’s not a threat,” Malcolm said.

“No, they wouldn’t,” I said. “A lot of groups call in the threats as warnings, just like I would be doing.”

“They wouldn’t know it was you,” Malcolm said.
“Right?”

“In a city this big, if I don’t identify myself, they might not check the site.”

“Why don’t I go?” Malcolm said. “You can stay with Jim, and be safe.”

I smiled at him. It was a generous offer, but just as fruitless as calling the police.
I didn’t say that, however.

“I have surveillance training,” I said.
“I know how to spot unusual activity, and how to stop it.
You’re good, Malcolm, but not quite ready for an all-night stake-out alone in a strange city.”

“So what if they bomb some place we never seen?” Jimmy asked.
“It’s not our problem.
You know where Daniel is now.
Call
Mrs. Kirkland
and let’s go home.”

I sighed.
A lot of people would not only accept Jimmy’s reasoning, but act on it.
I couldn’t.

“We can walk away.” I put my arms on the table and leaned toward him.
“There’s a good chance that nothing will happen.
But what if something does?
What if we find out on Saturday that a bomb went off and destroyed an entire building? What then?”

Jimmy shrugged.
“Too bad, I guess.”

“What if people were in that building? What if they died?”

“We don’t know nobody here, Smoke.” He frowned.
“It’d be sad, but we don’t know them.”

“We should only help people we know?” I asked.

He stared at me.
His lips were pressed tightly together.
He knew the answer I wanted him to give, and he wasn’t going to say it.

“Okay,” I said into his silence.
“What happens if among the people in that building was someone we know, like Laura or the Grimshaws or—”

“They’re not here.”

“Or maybe Laura’s lawyer, Mr. McMillan.
You know him, but you don’t know where he is today.
What happens if you find out he was in the building, and you could have saved his life by letting me go down there tonight?”

Jimmy’s eyes filled with tears.
“I don’t like him.”

“Does that matter?” I asked.
“Liking or disliking, when he died in a way that could’ve been prevented.”

“Stop,” Malcolm said.
“We get the point.
You’re not going to browbeat Jimmy into agreeing with it, because he’s not willing to sacrifice you.”

Jimmy wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

“It’s a civil responsibility thing,” Malcolm said. “You gotta do what’s right.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Stupid argument,” Malcolm said, “because most people don’t do what’s right.”

“I know that
,
too,” I said, “and I don’t want to be like those people.”

Malcolm’s gaze met mine.
Jimmy buried his head in his arms.

“If something goes wrong,” I said, “and I don’t come back, you know where the van is.
Take Jimmy back to Chicago.
The Grimshaws will know what to do.”

“After we know what happened to you,” Malcolm said.

I shook my head.
“Wait a few days.
No one knows you’re here.
If I can’t get back to you right away, I’ll meet you in Chicago.
I don’t want you confronting Daniel.
Stay away from him.”

“I can handle myself,” Malcolm said.

“I know, but I brought you along to take care of Jim.
And that’s what I expect you to do.”

Malcolm gave me a
half smile.
“That’s
my
civic responsibility.”

“That’s right,” I said, “and I can’t think of anything more important.”

THIRTY-NINE

An hour later, armed with prepackaged snack food and two sodas, I left.
I took the subway downtown.
The train was mostly empty.
The handful of people who rode it stared out the windows at nothing, looking miserable, as if they regretted still being in town this late on the night before a holiday.

Jimmy had hugged me as I walked out the door, but he hadn’t entirely forgiven me for going.
He considered the case closed now that Daniel was found, and nothing would change his mind.
I understood Jimmy’s opposition, but for the night, he was safe.
I simply wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I hadn’t tried to do something.

I got off the subway at the South Ferry Station, took the stairs up, and stopped when I reached the street.
It took a moment to get my bearings.

Battery Park looked the same as it always had, but the skyline to the north had changed somehow.
I wasn’t sure what was different, because I wasn’t completely
sure
what had been there.
But the air smelled the same: a combination of gas fumes, and the Upper Bay, exacerbated by the muggy night.

It was just past twilight, and the
streetlight
s had come up.
I walked to Water Street and saw what had changed.
An entire group of buildings was gone.
The streets had changed
,
too.
What I remembered as a warren of tiny blocks had become one big construction site.

The steel frame of a huge building towered above me.
I couldn’t tell exactly how tall this was, but I could tell the steel work wasn’t yet finished.
A sign marked this the work of William Lescaze & Associates, and behind the name was an architectural drawing of a skyscraper.
One New York Plaza, they called it
,
unoriginally, with offices for rent in the fall.

I doubted they’d make their rental date, considering how much work was left on the building.
This would have been a good target — Lord knew how many historical buildings had disappeared — but it was a block away from the corner of Whitehall and Pearl.

I continued along Whitehall, crossing Water, and stopped, my breath catching.
The building targeted on the map was so obvious that it hadn’t even crossed my mind.

The Armed Forces Induction Center.
Of course, it would be closed on the Fourth of July; all government buildings were.
A bomb planted on that day, exploding that day, would have incredible significance.

With the right kind of explosives, the building itself might just crumble.
It had an old-fashioned air — a brick Victorian with a two-story granite foundation.
Time hadn’t served it well: the foundation was dirty and cracked, the windows fogged from the day’s humidity, and some of the bricks above the second story had come loose.

The neighborhood looked abandoned.
I was sure there were apartments above the shops across the street, but none of the building’s lights were on.
I made myself keep walking so that I wouldn’t look like I was casing the place.

I needed to settle in a spot that would give me a good view of the
a
rmy building.
It was large, but it looked impenetrable.
Someone would have to work hard to get inside, especially with the place locked up the way it was.