Demolition Angel by Robert Crais Page A

up a batch of crystal meth.”
    Starkey glanced over the chromatograph printout, but it didn’t tell her what she wanted to know.
    “Okay. If you can make the stuff by hand, I need the component list and the recipe.”
    “The rep’s going to put it together and fax it. I asked him for manufacturers, too. As soon as I get’m, they’re yours.”
    Starkey folded the page and put it with her notes. A unique explosive was a plus for the investigation, but she didn’t like what it implied.
    “If this stuff is a military explosive, or needs some kind of high-end lab work, it changes my picture of the builder. We can’t be talking about a guy who just wanted to see if he could do it. This is a serious bomb.”
    Leyton frowned and leaned against the bench.
    “Not necessarily. If the Modex turns out to be stolen, that’s true—a backyard nutcase wouldn’t know how to get his hands on something like that. But if he made it himself, he could’ve pulled the formula off the Internet. Maybe he figured that using a more powerful explosive like this was part of the challenge.”
    Daigle crossed his arms, not liking it.
    “Starkey’s right about this being a serious bomb. So tell me this: Why does he build a device like this and just leave it by a Dumpster? There’s gotta be more to it.”
    “We talked to every one of the shop owners, Sarge. Nobody says they were threatened. The bomb didn’t damage the building.”
    Daigle scowled deeper.
    “One of those fuckers is lying. You don’t build a bomb this powerful just to play with yourself. You watch what I’m saying. One of those fuckers screwed somebody over and this thing is payback.”
    Starkey shrugged, thinking maybe Daigle was right as she studied the snaps.
    “Sarge, I’m looking at this thing, but I don’t see a detonator. No batteries. No power source. How did it go off?”
    Daigle slid off the stool to stretch his back and tapped the picture on the screen.
    “I got a theory. One pipe holds the explosive, the other the detonator. Look here.”
    He picked up two of the larger pieces of pipe, holding them for her and Leyton to see.
    “See the white residue here on the inside of the curve?”
    “Yeah. From when the explosive burned off.”
    “That’s right. Now look at this other piece. Nothing in here. Clean. Makes me think maybe he had the detonator in this pipe, along with a battery or whatever.”
    “You think it was hooked to a timer?”
    Daigle looked dubious.
    “And the timer just happened to let go when Riggio was standing over it? I don’t buy that for a second. We haven’t found anything yet, but I’m thinking Riggio set off some kind of balance switch.”
    “Buck said Charlie never touched the package.”
    “Well, that’s what Buck saw, but Charlie must’ve done something. Bombs don’t just go off for no reason.”
    Everyone suddenly grew silent, and Daigle flushed. Starkey realized it was because of her, then she flushed, too.
    “Jesus, Carol. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”
    “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, Sarge. There was a reason. It’s called an earthquake.”
    Starkey remembered the twisted disk she’d found, took it from the baggie, and showed it to the others.
    “I found this at the crime scene this morning. I don’t know if it came from the bomb, but there’s a good chance. It could be part of the initiator.”
    Daigle put it under a magnifying glass for a closer look, chewing his lower lip, squinting and puzzled.
    “Something electrical. Looks like we got a circuit board in here.”
    Chen crowded in and peered at it. He pulled on a pair ofDaigle’s gloves, then selected a narrow screwdriver and pried open the disk like a clamshell.
    “Sonofabitch. I know what this is.”
    A single word was printed inside the disk, a word they all knew, that was so out of place it seemed absurd: MATTEL .
    Chen put down the disk and stepped away. The others gathered closer for a better look, but Starkey was watching