Pausing backstage, Ryan pulled the bagged letter out of his coat. Forensics had examined the thing already, but he never wanted to contaminate the evidence. He quickly reread the mismatched letters, yearning for some new insight. Unfortunately, it revealed nothing new. Ryan considered the morning’s private courier delivery to the station. However, a fellow detective had identified it as another dead end.
Despite coming up empty, a bomb threat kept his investigation alive. The top brass considered this to be a top priority, given the percentage of the precinct pulled into the frantic search. By the time he arrived on the scene, the initial search had already been performed, revealing nothing. However, the note specified where they searched and when the bomb was to detonate. The letter additionally forbade the police from evacuating the site or nearby structures. Failure to comply would cause a premature detonation.
While some of his fellow officers thought the letter was a hoax, something about its tone convinced Ryan it was genuine. He put the note back and continued examining the backstage, wandering towards the dressing rooms. When Ryan found the first door, he was puzzled when he saw it closed. He quickly knocked and waved a nearby officer over. “Was this room searched?”
“I’m not sure.”
As Ryan turned the knob, he glanced over his shoulder. “Check with your superiors and find out.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ryan opened the door, calling out, “This is Detective Graves. Is anyone here?”
When there was no response, Ryan searched for a light switch, flipping it once his fingertips found it. From the state of the room, he knew it had escaped the initial search. Ryan didn’t care how that happened, he simply corrected the oversight. After the brief examination, Ryan stalked over to the bookshelf and instinctively picked up one of the many shot glasses adorning one of the shelves. He looked at the clear glass and shrugged before returning it to its place amongst the others.
The detective looked at the floor and noticed some scratch marks running out from underneath the bookshelf. The detective cocked his head and went down to his knee and examined the damaged wood. It was grooved as if something had been carving the wood slowly. He rubbed the front edge of the bookshelf and found the offending protrusion. Ryan rose, gripping the bookshelf, and dragged it away from the wall, revealing an opening. When he examined the curious hole, he discovered the bomb. And that its edges disappeared under the drywall, indicating that it was larger than the modest cavity would suggest.
He turned around to call for a member of the bomb squad, when he caught sight of something swinging towards his head. Ducking down, the improvised weapon swung past Detective Graves, ruffling his hair in its wake. When his hands touched the floor, Ryan’s gaze whipped up, locking onto an actor from the play. The actor’s gaze shifted from the detective to the exposed bomb. A moment later, it returned to Ryan with a calmness that seemed out of place on an actor whose fingers were curling into fists. “It doesn’t matter. You can’t stop my righteous cause!”
Ryan saw the imminent strike and knew he wouldn’t escape it, so his muscles contracted, preparing to absorb the blow, when he heard a pop. He watched electricity jolt through the actor, causing violent muscle spasms. As the actor fell, Ryan saw the officer he had sent away earlier. Ryan sucked in a lungful of air. “You have great timing, officer.”
“What’s going on?”
“I found the bomb and its owner. Now go get the bomb squad!” Ryan rushed forward, his arms whipping out toward the actor. Once he snatched the man, Ryan dragged him to a corner and pinned him to the ground. Members of the bomb squad flooded in to disarm the explosive. But Ryan asked, “Have we started evacuating the area?”
“We can’t…” one of the bomb squad members started.
Ryan rubbed his chin as he gestured at the unconscious man. “We have our guy, and believe me, he’s a loaner.”
“Can’t risk it, sir.”
Ryan’s fist slammed into the wall as he closed his eyes. “Fine, see if you can disarm the thing.”
Ryan paced as he watched the bomb squad examine every exposed inch, listening to every description. He learned the device lacked internet connectivity; thus, the bomb squad began evacuating the civilians. With the time expiring, the lead tech found the crucial pair of wires. One would stop the bomb while the other would trigger it. Unfortunately, nobody agreed on which one to cut. Ryan grabbed the bomber’s head and positioned it toward his creation. “Which one deactivates the bomb?”
The bomber glanced at his handiwork, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “You can cut the black one.”
Ryan was puzzled at how quickly the bomber answered, so he squeezed the tech’s shoulder and examined the surface himself. Specifically, Ryan looked where the bomber had been and noticed a pair of screws. “Unscrew those.”
The bomber’s eyes widened as they focused on the bomb. “You shouldn’t try messing with my work.”
Ryan pulled out a roll of duct tape, removed a length, then silenced the bomber. “Open it.”
The tech nodded and removed the screws, exposing three wires. After a brief examination, the tech looked back at Ryan as he tapped the outer shell. “Both of the other cables were dummies. Cutting either would have detonated the bomb.”
“No wonder the bomber was willing to answer the question.” Ryan nodded as he punched the nearby wall. “Which wire is the one to cut?”
“This one,” the tech said, as the bomber attempted to lunge for the bomb. However, the police quickly subdued him.
Rylan slapped the tech’s back. “Cut it!”
With a curt nod, the tech cut the cable. Once split, everyone held their breath until the ticking clock powered off.
“You were right,” Ryan said with a smile.