Part 5
Sutter turned away from the screen.
“Finch. Disruptor.”
The suited technician was already being checked by another member of the team. The protective clothing made him broad and cumbersome, with a heavy collar that held his head almost straight ahead.
Caleb watched the man accept his equipment. Through the open face shield, Finch’s mouth moved once in reply to something his teammate said. Then the shield came down.
“Keep the camera on the device,” Sutter told the operator. “Give him a clear view going in.”
Finch started toward the diner.
The suit shortened his stride. He had to lift each foot deliberately over the uneven edge of the pavement. Caleb had worn enough heavy gear to recognize the effort in that slow walk, and he knew that the protection had limits.
Rook leaned against his leg.
Caleb spread a hand over the dog’s head. The fur was warm from the sun. He moved his thumb once behind an ear, then held still.
On the monitor, Finch passed between the chairs securing the doors. The robot’s camera adjusted as he approached the trash container.
“Technician at the target,” the operator said.
Sutter bent close to the screen.
Caleb could see the bright numbers, though the angle made the last digit hard to read. More than a minute had gone since the first report. Then another.
Behind the cordon, the crowd quieted as Finch disappeared fully inside. A trooper kept one arm extended to prevent anyone stepping forward. Walter stood with both feet planted and his cap held against his thigh.
Finch worked beside the bin. The camera showed only parts of him: a thick glove, a padded shoulder, the equipment being positioned. Caleb watched the timer and made himself leave the technician’s hands alone with the job.
There were four minutes left when Finch’s voice came over the radio.
“Equipment set. Moving to cover.”
He came back through the doorway, faster now but still burdened by the suit. A teammate motioned him toward the substantial corner of the building.
Caleb’s hand tightened in Rook’s coat.
Finch reached cover.
Sutter checked his team’s positions and gave the firing warning.
The crack was brief and hard. Several people behind the tape ducked. Caleb felt Rook tense beneath his palm, but the dog stayed seated.
No larger blast followed.
On the screen, water and debris obscured the camera’s view. The operator adjusted the image while Sutter waited, his jaw rigid.
“Report.”
Another few seconds passed.
“Firing circuit disrupted. Timer’s down. No detonation.”
Sutter kept watching.
“Confirm the condition of the charges.”
The robot moved closer again. Caleb could hear its motor over the external speaker.
“Main charges contained. Trigger disabled.”
Sutter let his breath out.
“Maintain the perimeter. We’ll make it safe for removal.”
A woman beyond the tape began crying. Someone else said, “Thank you, God,” loudly enough to reach the command station. Troopers who had been standing rigidly eased their shoulders and turned to reassure the crowd.
Caleb looked down.
Rook was looking up at him now.
He rubbed the dog’s ear between his fingers.
“That’s it. You’re done.”
Sutter stepped away from the monitor and held out his hand.
“I don’t want to think about the report we’d be writing without him.”
Caleb shook it.
“He earned his breakfast.”
For the first time since entering the diner, Caleb managed a small smile.
The next work was slower. Technicians examined the remaining components, photographed the container and its surroundings, and prepared the explosive material for secure removal. The broken lid lay in water near the entrance. A narrow pane beside the door had cracked, leaving glittering pieces along the sill.
Caleb remained where the team could find him. Rook’s ears relaxed, and the dog settled his shoulder more comfortably against his leg. Now and then Caleb scratched beneath the vest, where the straps met the thick coat.
A dark utility vehicle bearing municipal plates stopped at the cordon. A silver-haired man in a white uniform shirt got out, spoke briefly to the trooper guarding the entrance, and was let through.
Chief Navarro looked over the damaged doorway, the bomb squad equipment, and the crowd still waiting among the trees.
He went directly to Sutter.
Caleb couldn’t hear the entire exchange. He heard “multiple warnings,” then “military identification.” Sutter pointed toward the patrol car.
Navarro crossed the lot.
“Dwyer. On your feet.”
The officer rose from the bumper. He rubbed his palms against his trousers before bringing his hands to his sides.
“Chief, the manager wanted him removed. He wouldn’t comply, and I had people recording—”
“Stop.”
Navarro spoke quietly, but the officer stopped.
“A man warned you about a suspected bomb. You had a trained dog indicating on it. Instead of securing the scene, you put the handler in cuffs and called animal control.”
“He was refusing—”
“You had his wallet. Did you verify his identification?”
Dwyer looked toward Caleb, then away.
Navarro held out his hand.
“Your badge.”
For a moment the officer didn’t move. Then he began working the pin. The shield slipped against the fabric before coming free.
“And your weapon. Carefully.”
Dwyer surrendered it. Navarro had another officer secure the rest of the duty equipment while he continued.
“You’re suspended effective now. Internal affairs will investigate, and this will be reviewed for criminal charges. You’re not driving yourself anywhere. Report to the command post and wait for transport.”
Dwyer stood with an empty place on his shirt where the badge had been.
Navarro pointed toward the command vehicle.
“Go.”
The officer turned and walked across the lot without looking at the people behind the tape…
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