Top Secret Twenty-One: A Stephanie Plum Novel(16)

“No. Sorry. I don’t smoke.”

“Xanax?”

“No.”

“Cupcakes?”

Standing just inside the front door, I saw a car pull into the driveway. Silvio.

I gave Miriam my card. “Call me if you want to talk.”

“Sure,” she said, “but you have to bring cupcakes.”

I passed Silvio on the sidewalk.

“Your wife is lovely,” I said. “You’re a lucky man.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Lucky me.”





SEVEN


“THIS ISN’T WORKING for me,” Lula said when I got back to the Buick. “I don’t want to be locked in the car with short stuff anymore.”

“Hey, what about me?” Briggs said. “You aren’t exactly my dream date.”

“You’d be lucky if I’m your dream date,” Lula said. “You never had a dream as good as me.”

“You’re not a dream,” Briggs said. “You’re a nightmare.”

“Oh yeah? How’d you like me to nightmare you a broken nose?”

“There’s not going to be any broken noses,” I said. “Jeez Louise, can we have some civility here?”

“We need a fun activity,” Lula said. “I think we should ride by Rangeman and see what’s going on. Maybe there’s guys in hazmat suits. Or maybe they got the building covered by one of them big yellow tents they use when you got termites.”

I headed out of the Burg and took Broad Street to downtown Trenton. Rangeman was located on a quiet side street, in a seven-story building that had secure underground parking. Ranger’s private apartment was on the top floor. Other floors were used for temporary housing of employees and detainees, a command center, offices, a gym, and an apartment for the building manager. A small plaque by the front door announced the name of the business. Windows were impact glass. All floors with the exception of the seventh were under constant surveillance.

I turned right off Broad and was stopped from making another turn by orange cones and yellow crime scene tape. The entire Rangeman block was cordoned off. An eighteen-wheeler crime scene lab was parked in front of the building, plus a bunch of cop cars, an EMT truck, a fire truck, and a hazmat unit truck.

A uniformed cop from the sheriff’s office was manning the barricade.

“What’s going on?” I asked him.

“There’s a contaminant in one of the buildings here,” he said. “No one’s allowed on the street until the building checks out.”

“How long is that going to be?” Lula asked.

The cop didn’t know.

A news service helicopter hovered over the building. Rangeman would be on the evening news. Ranger would hate that.

“I don’t get how something could contaminate this building,” Lula said. “This building is scary secure.”

I called Morelli.

“I’m idling at a barricade to Ranger’s street,” I said. “The whole street is blocked off, and there’s an eighteen-wheeler crime scene lab parked here. I’ve never seen an eighteen-wheeler crime scene lab. What’s going on?”

“I can’t talk now,” Morelli said. “I’ll meet you for lunch at Pino’s. Twelve o’clock.” And he disconnected.

Lula looked over at me. “Well? What’s going on?”

“He couldn’t talk.”

“Did he say if it was terrorists?”

“No, but I think it’s unlikely terrorists would target Ranger’s building.”

“This is killing me,” Lula said. “I hate when I don’t know stuff.”

It was killing me too. I had a sick feeling in my stomach. Something really bad had happened here. I was worried about Ranger. And I was worried about his men.

I drove away from the crime scene, turned at the next corner, and cut across town to Stark. As long as I was sort of in the neighborhood it wouldn’t hurt to check on Buster, and it would take my mind off Ranger. It was midmorning and the pizza place was filled with people. The area around it looked normal. No sign of police activity. I parked half a block away, on the opposite side of the street, and I watched the building while Lula and Briggs went to get pizza.

I tapped in Buster’s number, and he answered on the second ring. I introduced myself, and he hung up. I tried again, and he didn’t pick up. I ran across the street and banged on his door. Nothing. The door was locked.

Lula and Briggs joined me. Lula was carrying a large pizza box.

“We got a whole pie,” Lula said. “They were having a half-price sale.”

We backed up on the sidewalk and looked at the second-floor windows. No moving shadows. No television sounds drifting down to us.

“Did you try knocking on the door?” Lula asked.

“Yep.”

“Then I’m guessing nobody is home, and we should go eat our pizza.”



I didn’t want to drag Lula and Briggs along on my lunch date, so I dropped Lula at the office and took Briggs to my parents’ house.

“Just in time for lunch,” Grandma said, opening the front door.

“I can’t stay,” I told her, “but I was hoping I could leave Randy here.”