Pulling onto Sunset Junction, the sun glared down, sending a shimmering heat across the car windscreen. Much to his chagrin, Fergs was along for the ride. We needed him to pinpoint the source of the return signal. He hadn’t wanted to come. I suspect he was still reeling from the detonation at Sutherland Boulevard, but I wasn’t taking no for answer.
We slowed to a crawl as Fergs concentrated intently on one of his little box of tricks that was far too technical for the likes of Charlie and I to fully understand. He’d managed to isolate the co-ordinates of the return signal; Stella’s laptop had not been damaged by the blast. He’d transferred them to a portable tracker and that was that. We had a fix on the signal, easy as you like. The fact that the device that had sent the signal had not moved during the entire ride to Sunset Junction from the Edwards’ house made me familiarly apprehensive.
‘Hey Patton, we’re almost there … slow down Holland’, Fergs looked up, scanning Sunset Junction.
‘Pull over Charlie, we’ll take it on foot from here’, I instructed.
‘I think I’ve got a fix’, Fergs voice was hushed. ‘Couple of hundred yards up, turn left and you got a phone box another two hundred yards, past a diner. That’s it’.
For the third time today, I un-holstered my pistol. ‘Be careful, man’ Charlie advised.
‘You too’. We’d already seen far too much carnage today. Neither of us wanted to see any more. With one obvious exception.
I radioed in our position, then we left Fergs in the car and jogged at full pace to the corner. We had the phone box in our sights and paused to check out our surroundings before covering the final stretch to the phone box itself.
‘Looks clear to me’, Charlie was scanning the phone box and beyond, I had taken the ground leading to the phone box.
‘What about over there?’ I pointed to a couple of people hanging around outside the diner.
‘Looks like a couple of muso bums to me’, Charlie said. ‘Par for the course on Sunset Junction, man’. He was probably right. Sunset Junction was a hive for musical activity and its roots had spawned several bands on the alternative scene in the eighties and nineties. I seem to remember reading somewhere that a couple of members of Faith No More, who had been big before they split up several years ago, started off here.
‘What do you think, man, should we take it?’ Charlie wanted to move.
‘Yeah, let’s do it. Looks clear’, I agreed, ‘Let’s move!’ We had backup on the way but I didn’t think we had time to wait for them as we had only just given our position. A few minutes might make all the difference to Stella.
It took only thirty seconds to reach the phone box, and in truth we had no reason to suspect it was safe; for all we knew there could have been another bomb hooked up to the damn thing.
Charlie remained on the phone’s parameter, circling, looking for any possible threat. I looked inside; there must be something there for us.
Sure enough, I was right. A pager was taped behind the phone; no doubt the same pager that had activated the bomb earlier this morning.
‘Careful Patton, careful’, Charlie advised from the outside. I didn’t say anything, I just nodded. Charlie opened the door, though there was no way that the phone box would hold us both.
‘Just looks like a normal pager to me’, I said, ‘but we’ll get Fergs to check it out. Maybe there’s something on it?’ I passed the pager to Charlie who after a quick check, came back with the same verdict.
We slowed to a crawl as Fergs concentrated intently on one of his little box of tricks that was far too technical for the likes of Charlie and I to fully understand. He’d managed to isolate the co-ordinates of the return signal; Stella’s laptop had not been damaged by the blast. He’d transferred them to a portable tracker and that was that. We had a fix on the signal, easy as you like. The fact that the device that had sent the signal had not moved during the entire ride to Sunset Junction from the Edwards’ house made me familiarly apprehensive.
‘Hey Patton, we’re almost there … slow down Holland’, Fergs looked up, scanning Sunset Junction.
‘Pull over Charlie, we’ll take it on foot from here’, I instructed.
‘I think I’ve got a fix’, Fergs voice was hushed. ‘Couple of hundred yards up, turn left and you got a phone box another two hundred yards, past a diner. That’s it’.
For the third time today, I un-holstered my pistol. ‘Be careful, man’ Charlie advised.
‘You too’. We’d already seen far too much carnage today. Neither of us wanted to see any more. With one obvious exception.
I radioed in our position, then we left Fergs in the car and jogged at full pace to the corner. We had the phone box in our sights and paused to check out our surroundings before covering the final stretch to the phone box itself.
‘Looks clear to me’, Charlie was scanning the phone box and beyond, I had taken the ground leading to the phone box.
‘What about over there?’ I pointed to a couple of people hanging around outside the diner.
‘Looks like a couple of muso bums to me’, Charlie said. ‘Par for the course on Sunset Junction, man’. He was probably right. Sunset Junction was a hive for musical activity and its roots had spawned several bands on the alternative scene in the eighties and nineties. I seem to remember reading somewhere that a couple of members of Faith No More, who had been big before they split up several years ago, started off here.
‘What do you think, man, should we take it?’ Charlie wanted to move.
‘Yeah, let’s do it. Looks clear’, I agreed, ‘Let’s move!’ We had backup on the way but I didn’t think we had time to wait for them as we had only just given our position. A few minutes might make all the difference to Stella.
It took only thirty seconds to reach the phone box, and in truth we had no reason to suspect it was safe; for all we knew there could have been another bomb hooked up to the damn thing.
Charlie remained on the phone’s parameter, circling, looking for any possible threat. I looked inside; there must be something there for us.
Sure enough, I was right. A pager was taped behind the phone; no doubt the same pager that had activated the bomb earlier this morning.
‘Careful Patton, careful’, Charlie advised from the outside. I didn’t say anything, I just nodded. Charlie opened the door, though there was no way that the phone box would hold us both.
‘Just looks like a normal pager to me’, I said, ‘but we’ll get Fergs to check it out. Maybe there’s something on it?’ I passed the pager to Charlie who after a quick check, came back with the same verdict.
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