while. “A complete match, both prints and DNA…excellent.” He hung up. “That was Hildebrand. When they processed Radek’s apartment, the only identifiable prints they found were his, which were everywhere. They also took a few items for a possible DNA match, including his toothbrush. The agents ran everything over to the state lab, and they just confirmed that the prints were Radek’s and his DNA was a match with the body from the elevator. Let’s keep our fingers crossed that the money is at this phone number.”
TWENTY-THREE
NORMALLY THE INDUSTRIAL STRETCH OF NINTH STREET WOULD HAVE been relatively deserted, but now the street, the ends of which were closed off by uniform cars, was crowded with LAPD and FBI vehicles. In the middle of the block was the object of the activity, a one-story brick building which had been built as a steam laundry almost a hundred years earlier. Presently, it was believed to contain Victor Radek’s cell phone. Several businesses had occupied the structure since its construction, the owner of the last one painting the exterior khaki green with red trim to match the color of its low tile roof. The glaring midday sun cut cool black rectangles and triangles into its recesses.
Located through tax records, the real estate agent stated that she had rented it to an individual who had taken a six-month lease on it. After being showed a copy of the search warrant, she identified Radek’s photo as the man who had rented it using the name William Thompson. The only other thing she could remember about him was that he had paid cash.
The bomb squad van sat thirty yards from the front of the building. Inside the vehicle, Sergeant Mike Henning sat watching a TV monitor as he guided a wheeled robot through the back door of the building. Standing behind him were Kate, Vail, Kaulcrick, and Tye Delson, who had been asked to come along in case the phone led to another location that needed legal access.
As Henning guided the robot with a joystick, the monitor showed four different pictures being transmitted from the device’s four cameras. Although each could be deployed in different directions at the same time, they were now all pointed straight ahead. The four streaming images were similar, but everyone who was watching shifted their eyes from image to image, hoping to spot something. There was scattered refuse on the floor inside the building, but on the worktables were power tools and what appeared to be board scraps. “When we get in there it’ll be interesting to see if any of that stuff could be from the punji boards you ran into at the tunnel, Steve,” Henning said.
The robot continued to slowly search the first floor of the building, turning through the walled-off workspaces, which were all connected through a series of doorways and short corridors. Most of them had worktables and stools bolted to the floor. Henning would crane one of the cameras up from the robot’s low position to inspect whatever material was on the table and then explore the debris on the floor. After almost a half hour the device was back at the door it had entered through, indicating it had gone full circle. “What are we looking for again?” Henning asked.
Vail said, “To start with, the cell phone we got the GPS reading from. It’s in there somewhere, probably plugged into an electrical outlet. I didn’t see it.”
“And let’s not forget about the money,” Kaulcrick added.
“Hold on a minute,” Vail said. He walked to the back door of the van and leaned out. “Even though there are no windows below the first floor, it looks like there could be a basement. That door you went by next to the men’s room, think the robot could open it?”
Henning spun the robot around 180 degrees and backtracked. It got to the door and did a sharp right turn. The bomb squad sergeant jockeyed it back and forth until the mechanical pincers on the arm closed around the doorknob. Everyone watched as the arm rotated. They could hear a click as the striker cleared the plate. Slowly Henning backed it up, pulling the door open. The robot then moved forward around the door, and Henning flipped a switch. A small spotlight came on. There was a narrow descending staircase. “It is a basement. But that’s too narrow for the robot to make the ninety-degree turn halfway down the stairs. And it may be too steep for the treads.”
Vail took