Sam said, "That's it? Just music?"
"Yeah. Maybe some voices in the background. I'm not sure."
He turned back to Rivera.
"And I heard a little pop. A little boom."
"An explosion?" Rivera asked.
I said, "I don't know."
"Give me that thing," he said.
I did. Rivera turned his back, pressed the phone against one ear, and stuck an index finger into the other one.
Two bomb squad members came flying out the front door of the Rockies' offices. "Another explosion. This one's at Union Station," one of them said as he passed by. He directed the words at Rivera's back.
Sam said, "What did he say?"
"He said there was just an explosion at Union Station."
Sam grabbed my arm. "Shit. How far away is that?"
"Maybe three blocks."
He released my arm and tapped Rivera on the shoulder. Rivera lowered the phone and took the finger out of his ear. "I don't hear shit," he reported.
Sam pointed at the activity at the curb. "A bomb just went off at Union Station."
The Denver cop shook his head. In disbelief? Disgust? I couldn't tell. He said, "Union Station? Not East High School? Are you sure?"
"That's what they said."
"How bad is it?"
Sam shrugged. His face was the color of the winter sky.
Rivera pointed to a brown sedan at the curb. "That's mine. Let's go."
Ramp exited the drive in front of Union Station and pulled the truck across Wynkoop and then straight down Seventeenth past the Oxford Hotel into Denver's downtown business district. After a few blocks, the wail of sirens began to echo in the canyons between the blunt faces of Denver's skyscrapers. Seventeenth was a one-way street leading away from Union Station, and Ramp's truck was unimpeded by approaching emergency vehicles as it headed toward Broadway.
While he waited for a light to change, he lifted his windbreaker and threw it behind the seat of the truck. He fumbled for some coins on the console. "I'll need some quarters for the parking meter. Don't want to draw any attention prematurely this morning."
Lucy prayed that he wouldn't see the red light that glowed on her phone. To her, it looked as bright as a streetlight on a dark night. She screamed again to distract him.
He looked at her. "What?"
She screamed again. She was trying to say, "Take this off! Take this off!" She kicked at the floor.
The light changed. He said, "I'll take it off in a minute. We're almost at our next stop."
She pounded the console with her closed fists.
He raised his wrist, displaying the transmitter that was taped to his arm. "I said wait."
From the backseat of Rivera's car, I said, "Voices. Sam, I hear voices."
Sam spun on his seat.
I held up my finger, asking for quiet.
"The guy just said, 'What?' Then there were a couple of muffled screams."
Rivera stared at me in the rearview mirror.
"Now the guy said, 'Wait a second. I'll take it off in a minute. We're almost at our next stop.' And then another muffled scream, and… and some pounding.
"Wait. It's him talking again. He said, 'I said wait.' " I continued to listen intently. "Silence now, Sam. Just background noise."
I looked up. We'd pulled to a stop in front of Union Station. Uniformed cops were directing pedestrians and traffic away from the building. By now I knew the drill. The bomb squad would be evacuating the building prior to beginning a search for secondary devices. I couldn't shake the feeling that we were a step behind Ramp and that that was exactly where he wanted us to be.
Rivera ordered me to "Stay put and keep listening." He got out of the car and huddled in front of the train station entrance with a black man in a brown sport coat. Sam nodded his head in their direction. "The guy with Rivera? That's Walter. My friend Walter." For the first time all morning, Sam smiled.
I said, "The one whose name isn't really Walter?"
"Yeah, that Walter."
He pointed at the phone. "Anything?"
I mouthed, "No."
Sam said, "We're wasting our time here. Going from bomb to bomb after they go off isn't going to get us where we need to be."
"I was thinking the same thing." I raised one index finger. "They're talking again. I think I hear Lucy, Sam. I do. She's still alive."
He exhaled as though he'd been holding his breath for most of the morning. "What'd she say? Give me that thing."
CHAPTER 56
Ramp stayed southbound on Broadway until he was just past Fourteenth. He pulled to a stop by the curb opposite the plaza of the block-long complex housing the Colorado History Museum and the Judicial Heritage Center. He hopped out of the cab, fed the parking meter, and jumped right back in.
He stared at Lucy for a few seconds before he reached down and lowered her gag to her chin.
"Stop," she pleaded. "Please, stop. No more bombs, Ramp."
He smiled an ingratiating smile. "Don't worry. This is the last stop. This is where the day ends. If all goes well here, you'll be free."
She couldn't tell where they were parked. The landmarks she could see weren't familiar to her. He placed a nylon windshield screen across the inside of the windshield and pushed a piece of cardboard against the glass of the window above her seat.
"Where are we?"
He chuckled. "We're at the principal's office."
She was amazed at Ramp's calm demeanor. He was like a kid confident that he was about to ace a test. It was as though he already had all the answers.
She said, "What does that mean?"
"One of the many mistakes that Klebold and Harris made is that they failed to target the boss man. They went randomly after kids, and they didn't seem to care who they killed as long as they killed someone. That's unproductive rage. That's not my style. I've identified specific targets, deserving targets. And the final target on my list is the principal, the one who is ultimately responsible for the culture that took my mother from me."
"You're not even in school. Who's the principal? I don't get it."
"My problem is with the judicial system, right? Who makes those rules? Who's the boss?"
He was playing with her. "I don't know-the governor?" Were they parked outside the governor's mansion? From her position on the floor she couldn't tell where they were.
"Wrong. The head of the judiciary in this state is the Colorado Supreme Court. For me, that's the equivalent of the principal's office. That's where it all begins and that's where it will end."
"You're going to kill the Supreme Court justices?"
He reached down between his legs to the floor on the seat in front of him. "I know I won't get them all. But I should be able to get a few."
She had trouble grasping his threat. Kill the justices? "Wouldn't you have to kill all the legislators? They make the laws. They write the sentencing statutes."
"No, no. It's too late to change. It's going to be the justices." His hand held a thick roll of duct tape. "I don't trust you not to interfere. I need a few minutes to get set up, and I can't risk you doing anything to draw attention."
She said, "I'll be good. I will."
"Sorry."
Ramp reached down below his seat one more time and came up with a neat package wrapped in brown paper. The package was about the size and shape of a roll of paper towels that had been sliced in half lengthwise. A loop of insulated wire emerged from the package and a slender antenna extended up from the top about three inches.