But the switch had been modified to work in reverse. The lever, the “knife” of the switch, had been removed, and the two contacts had been squeezed together so they would always touch. Then the knife had been replaced by a thin sheet of fiberboard insulator between the contacts that held them apart. Attached to the insulator was a coil of wire that would uncoil as the elevator descended. Just as the elevator reached the first floor, the wire would reach its limit, and the fiberboard insulator would be tugged from between the two contacts.
Stahl looked to see what else was in the circuit and saw a small electric timer set at seven seconds. It gave the person on the first floor seven seconds to enter the elevator and let the doors close. And then the timer would run out and the bomb would detonate.
The power for the firing circuit was a splice that tapped into the circuit that powered the elevator’s lights and switches. But he was not positive that was the only source of power. With this bomber there could be other secondary firing circuits powered by batteries. This bomb maker was obsessed with backups.
Stahl took a screwdriver, loosened the screws that held one of the wires to the firing circuit, and pulled it out. He capped the end. Then he disconnected and capped the other wire. He had now disabled the main switch, but he was beginning to know this man’s work. There would be a second circuit somewhere designed to kill any bomb tech who neutralized the first one.
Stahl found it almost immediately. If he had been in a hurry to lift the canisters of explosives he would have set them off. Lifting any canister two inches from the elevator roof would have pulled another nonconductive fiberboard strip from between two contacts, and the internal batteries in the canister would have set off the blasting cap inside.
He disconnected each wire that led to a power source and capped it, removed all of the switches and canisters from the roof of the elevator, set them on the concrete floor away from the shaft, and climbed up after them.
He sat still for a moment, collecting his thoughts. Then he stood and went to the top of the second elevator shaft. The knife switch attached to the counterweight’s track was the same. The backup switches under the three canisters were the same. There was no new switch that was designed to make a bomb technician who had gotten this far get overconfident and kill himself. He supposed the bomber had needed to come in with everything ready to take out of the gym bag and attach to the two elevators and then go.
When Stahl brought the explosives out of the elevator maintenance room and set them on the floor outside the steel door, he called McCrary. “Hello, Sergeant.”
“Should I still be holding my ears?”
“Not anymore. I’ve got six canisters of explosives and some disconnected wires and switches on the roofs of the two elevators. Your team can come and get them now.”
When Stahl hung up, he went to the fourth-floor elevator doors and pressed the DOWN button. The elevator doors opened to show him a pair of pristine, empty elevator cars. He took the first, pressed 1, and watched the doors close. In a moment it was taking him down.
The doors opened at the lobby and he stepped out to see McCrary and Curtis walking in around the false wall with their bomb suits on. As he walked past them toward the gaping hole that had been the front entrance he said, “Thanks, guys. It’s safe to take the easy way up, but clear the upper floors before you let anybody back into the building.”
12
As soon as Stahl made it back to the office, he began to work with frantic determination. He couldn’t let this bomber keep probing the Bomb Squad’s defenses, booby-trapping one spot after another and waiting to see whom he could kill.
Stahl recorded a computer presentation for all four teams, and put them through a quick online course that would show them everything he’d learned about this bomber so far. He showed them the surveillance video from the car bomb at the station and the one at the women’s health clinic. “We can’t see his face, but we can see the way he moves, and roughly his height and weight. This is definitely the same man. He’s about five ten to six feet, and weighs around a hundred and seventy. Here is his voice.” Stahl played the audio recording from the 911 call that had lured the team to the Encino house. Next Stahl played the audio recording of Tim Watkins’s voice as he walked his way through the house, describing each thing he saw.
Stahl hoped, not only that the remaining bomb techs would develop a sense of the way the bomb maker’s mind worked, but also that watching him move around on the dim, grainy surveillance videos would trigger a memory if any of them ever saw him. Stahl included the photographs that were taken of every component of the devices that had been removed intact, including the ones on the elevators he found only hours ago.
Stahl concluded: “When you’re on a call, look for anything that reminds you of these pictures. He likes devices that look conventional, but actually have something bigger behind them or under them or inside them. Most of his components are simple, and nearly all are homemade. You notice I avoid the term ‘improvised.’ He never improvises. He plans each device meticulously and thoroughly. And so far he’s made nothing that wouldn’t have worked. He’s been planting devices at the rate of one a day. I’m hoping it’s impossible for him to keep up that pace much longer.
“At the LAPD most of the calls you’ll get are still going to lead to devices made by somebody who thinks he was cheated by the phone company, or wants his business partner out of the way, or hates the government. About two-thirds of them won’t work.
“But while you’re handling those calls, look for signs that you’re dealing with this bomber. He’s been using a handmade version of a plastic explosive resembling Semtex. His main signatures are a secondary charge and multiple ways of triggering his initiator. In the last two devices, I’ve seen number eight blasting caps. Study the pictures of the lead wires in these photographs so you’ll spot them easily. Take no chances. If you see an obvious way to render one of his devices safe, you’re probably wrong. We will continue the policy of detonating devices in place or, if you can’t do that, removing them for detonation elsewhere. Good luck.”
Stahl ordered Andy to be sure that every member of the Bomb Squad saw the e-mail with the online presentation attached. Then he walked briskly to Almanzo’s office in Homicide Special. He gave Almanzo a thorough description of what happened at the women’s health center and sat down at a computer in the Homicide Special section and transferred to Almanzo the photographs of the devices hidden on the roofs of the elevators.
Almanzo and two of his detectives had been studying the video recordings of the man at the health center. One thing that had not turned up, he said, was anything indicating how the man had gotten out of the building. It must have been a door or window at the side of the building where there were no security cameras. The man apparently had worn surgical gloves, because no prints or DNA had been found on any of the components in the car at the gas station or the health center. A detective was trying to find a single car that had been photographed in the neighborhoods of more than one crime, but so far none had turned up. The next task was to see if the bomber had rented cars to come and go. They were also working with cab companies and with Lyft and Uber to gather information on men who got rides at the right times on the right days. In the midst of Almanzo’s recitation, he stopped. “You holding up all right?”
“I’m okay,” said Stahl. “You?”
“Seriously, three bombs in three days.”
“Three days could be just the start. I’ve worked shifts longer than that.”