The bomber, a woman and apparently devious enough to predict how many she would kill with each bombing. These facts confirmed some initial conclusions I had about the first bombings. The trap she had laid out for the cops and emergency services was brilliant. Most emergency services would either be disabled or far from the city. However, what was more incredible is she expected me to die and planned on me being her next victim before any other.
As a detective, it was my duty to report what happened, but I felt it was in my best interest to avoid letting anybody know, seeing as I was being watched closely by a psychopath. With that in mind, I couldn’t help but feel that there was more to the situation. Why was I such an important target that the bomber revealed a part of her identity to let me know that she would be dedicating her time and resources towards my demise? It didn’t add up, I had enemies, sure, but none of them remotely this powerful. Mostly it was just drunks who lived outside my building.
The steps I chose towards meeting and capturing the bomber were simple. I let her do all the work. Most likely, when it comes to working with intelligent psychopaths, they like to show their power by making you feel helpless. In order to do so I attempted to find her and capture her with a half-ass plan. I have to admit, it was fun to do at first. I placed myself into the mindset of a rookie and immediately did everything by the book. I spoke to the radio operator and asked them for the origins of the last caller. I was given a street name, but no number. It was enough of course for me to make a foolish decision of hopping into my car and roaming that street.
I parked my car in the middle of the road one night and waited. It was incredibly boring, but I understood it was necessary for the act. I feigned interest in every building until finally, there was a an arm busting through my car window to place a chloroform rag over my mouth. I struggled at first, a little to well. It was difficult for me to relax enough to let the chloroform take effect. All instincts pointed towards clutching the arm and pulling my assailant against the car.
Eventually, my consciousness gave way and I was in the clutches of a killer. However, I knew well enough that I would be taken someplace, most likely not her hideout, but a secluded area where we can be left alone. Sure enough, that is exactly where I woke up. Sitting on a chair, arms tied behind me and legs to the chair. It was the classic situation I read about or saw on Tv. The only difference being the fear I felt was real. All that ran through my mind in that moment was my sheer contempt for myself. How could I have thought the plan would work out well? Was I going to die before this maniac was behind bars? What were my last words to Lilith?
I tried to calm down, but when I saw the bomber face-to-face I felt cold already. She was a short, asian woman with cold eyes. I could tell that she wasn’t chinese, perhaps vietnamese. I took a deep breath and swallowed.
“You are not as bright as I gave you credit for, detective,” the woman told me. Her accent was thick, definitely vietnamese. “However, that only makes my work easier and for that, I thank you.”
The bomber walked beyond the light into the shadows and began collecting equipment. I began to struggle against the bonds, but the lines were tight and they cut deep with the slightest struggle. I did indeed feel helpless, which is exactly what she wanted. She walked back into the light holding what appeared to be plastic explosive. It was handmade and from what I gathered later, stolen. Clever not to leave a paper trail and what is more, the products reported stolen were scattered all over the city.
Another sign of fierce intelligence. If she had stolen everything in a general area then it would be easier to narrow the search down to find her, and if not, give us a hint on who was stealing the ingredients by reviewing footage. Nevertheless, as the bomber came towards me with a vest of explosives which she no doubt intended for me to wear, I was incredibly grateful to have Adrian as my partner.
“Ma’am, put the vest down, carefully if you will,” Adrian asked politely from the shadows.
The bomber turned to the voice, but soon realized there was a gun trained on her. She must have been truly dedicated to her ‘cause’ as she reached for a triggering device on the vest. Adrian decided to take his chances and fire a shot that cut close to the vest.
The bombers hand was destroyed with that shot, entering through the side and crippling it permanently. I heard the splatter of blood and then just her screams. The vest was dropped, but luckily we didn’t all go up in a blaze of glory. In a few minutes there was a patrol car outside an abandoned bakery in the town centre collecting the most successful terrorist the city has ever experienced.
“Since when have you come up with something so risky, pal?” Adrian asked me.
“I didn’t feel safe getting in my own car, Ian,” I told him. “I had to take care of her fast. I appreciate the help.”
“As long as you let the chief know that you fired the shot and not me, I don’t mind helping. But next time, keep things easy. The last thing the force needs now is a dead detective.”
To me it sounded like his last words had more meaning than he was letting on, but I knew better than to ask what was going through his mind. If Adrian Black was doing a job it was best not to interfere.