The investigators leaned toward the screen. The number 2,379 quickly spun south. A thousand, 500, 80, 15, until it finally came to a stop: 1. And a suspect’s name. The last piece of data was a video-store rental no less. Chevy Chase vacation comedy. Detectives made some calls. Unbelievable. A seaman at the Naval Air Station in Pensacola had been shipped overseas, then six years later he was transferred back to another base in Jacksonville.
A dozen police vehicles were waved through the security gate and skidded up to the barracks. Military prosecutors arrived, and in less than five minutes the joint interrogation burped up a signed confession. The state of Florida wanted to take custody, and the navy said they were always happy to assist local law enforcement, but first they’d like to hold on to him for another hundred years.
FORT LAUDERDALE
Serge strolled the aisles of the home-improvement store, sucking coffee from a tube under his shirt.
“What are we looking for?” asked Coleman, slurping from his own tube of vodka.
“I’ll know when I see it. Just keep your eyes open for gigantic iron corkscrews.”
“What are those?”
“They’re hurricane tie-downs you twist into the ground and secure stuff when you don’t want to retrieve your aluminum shed from someone’s living room on the next block. That’s always an awkward visit.”
An employee in a yellow store vest came around the corner and smiled as he had been trained. Then the smile stopped. “Are you guys okay?”
“Great!” said Serge.
“What’s with the tubes?”
“We have medical conditions,” said Coleman.
Serge nodded earnestly. “We’re in self-help.”
The employee sniffed the air. “Do I smell liquor?”
“A lot of things smell like liquor,” said Serge.
“Yeah,” said Coleman. “Like other liquor.”
Serge pulled up his shirt. “I’m clean. This is a clear plastic bladder that sports fans strap to their bellies with Velcro to sneak alcohol into arenas and stadiums. I learned it from Coleman, but I use it for coffee strictly due to my on-the-go needs.”
Coleman raised his own shirt. “This is water. You can’t test it because of my rights.” He lowered his shirt.
“We need your assistance,” said Serge. “Usually I can immediately lay my hands on anything in this place, like garage-door openers to activate bad stuff. You’re the expert: Do you think personal electronics can really bring down a 747?”
“What?”
“Of course you can’t speak on the record.” Serge slurped and rotated his head for answers. “Where are the hurricane tie-downs?”
“You trying to secure a shed?”
“Bigger!”
“A metal garage?”
“Needs to be bigger than that!”
“What on earth are you tying down?”
“That’s classified.” Serge briefly flashed a
Moments later, several employees whispered as Serge and Coleman walked out the door with plastic bags in their hands and four enormous iron corkscrews perched over their shoulders.
MIAMI BEACH
Neon glowed in an artistic rainbow from the landmark Art Deco hotels along internationally famous Ocean Drive. Red, pink, green, blue, orange, yellow, as if the owners had held a meeting.
Farther north on Collins Avenue were the larger, old-guard flagship resorts. The Delano, the Eden Roc, Fontainebleau, Deauville. At a newer, lesser-known resort in the middle, the clientele finally calmed down around three A.M. Some asleep, some passed out, some sitting up in bed with the TV remote, determined to squeeze out more vacation value.
By four A.M., most of the lights had gone dark up and down the hotel’s thirty-story facade.
At 4:02, the first phone rang. Room 1911. A couple from Manitoba celebrating their copper anniversary, which was number seven. The wife answered from REM sleep and a dream about the national cricket team.
“Uh, mmmm, hullo? . . .”
“Ma’am, this is the front desk . . .”
Seconds later, the wife hopped onto the bed screaming in panic. “Kevin! Wake up! Wake up!”
He opened one eye on the pillow. “What is it?”
“An emergency! We have to get out of here!”
They dashed into the hallway. There was a white box on the wall and a sign: IN CASE OF EMERGENCY, BREAK GLASS.
Glass broke.
In the next room, two former classmates from Syracuse on a girlfriend trip. The phone rang.
“W-what? Hello? Huh? . . .”
“This is the front desk. Please stay calm, but we have a serious emergency. There’s been a highly poisonous chemical contamination to your floor from the air system. We need you to evacuate your room immediately . . .”
“But how did—?”
