Bombshell - Men of Sanctuary Series, Book Three Read Free

such, before he gave it all up to hunt, fish, and play Dan’l Boone. After a few beers, Smitty’s been known to spout off about blowing up bridges, moving mountains of rock, stuff like that. Never stepped outside the law; no reason for me to do a background check.”
    Mac took a deep swallow of coffee, felt somewhat renewed.
    “According to the locals, he owned the property, built the cabin, used it for the aforementioned hunting and fishing during the seasons. Each year for decades, he expanded the buildings, did more work on the place. Moved here permanently after his wife died. That was probably about five years ago, when I left the SEALs and landed up here. Don’t see much of him except on Fridays, when he does his weekly errands in town, then heads for the diner. Churlish on occasion, but never a problem.”
    “Churlish?” Chandler chuckled as he scrolled through screens on his handheld satcom unit. “Hold the phone. Check this out. He was an engineer all right, but not exactly the bridge-building kind. Explosives Engineering Specialist in our own United States Army. Interesting.”
    He flipped through more screens. “Instant intel. Ain’t technology grand. Looks like Bernard Smith could build or defuse just about any explosive device on the planet.
    Meritorious medals out the whazoo, all sorts of commendations for putting his life on the line for the good ol’ U. S. of A. Looks like his health took a nosedive after 9/11—he spent time at ground zero. Medical discharge not long after. Hmm .”
    As MacBride opened his mouth to respond, a Special Agent Bomb Technician in full gear trudged up, pulled off his helmet to suck in clean mountain air.
    “We have an issue.” He looked pointedly from Chandler to Mac.
    “Take it easy, I’ll vouch for him.”
    “Yeah, well, I don’t know too many guys who are going to have clearance for this.” The SABT looked at his feet, shook his head.
    “Sheriff, I understand you were a SEAL explosives specialist, right?” He waited for Mac’s nod. “You’re familiar with the Larsson case?”
    Another nod. Mac’s expression changed to a thoughtful squint as he recalled the details. “John Larsson, demolitions specialist. Killed in a freak bomb blast about two or three months ago. Sporadic intel chatter at the time suggested it was an al-Qaeda op, but no one came forth to take credit for the job. The bomb signature was not previously identified. Appeared to be a timer within a timer.”
    “Yeah, well, it might be identifiable now.” The agent had the attention of both men. “We won’t be sure until our squints check the photos and get actual samples back to the D.C. lab, but the components look familiar. The timer on the Larsson device had a peculiar set-up. That’s why I remembered it.”
    Chandler shook his head. “The next question: what was our little ol’ bomb maker doing in the middle of moose country Maine, followed closely by who ordered the device to be built? So far, his profile does not point to a man who didn’t love his country.”
    Mac headed for his vehicle. “People’s politics have been known to change. More to the point, where is the bomb maker himself, so we can ask him those self-same questions? I need to call this in, get an APB out on Smith.”
    He glanced at Chandler’s man. “Your secret is safe with me. The last thing our little town needs is a bomb panic during the height of the fall tourist season.”
    * * * * *
    Thursday
    Two days later, Game Warden Abigail O’Connell left a brief message on the sheriff’s satphone. “Meet me at these GPS coordinates a.s.a.p.”
    An hour after that, Mac, O’Connell, Collins, Deputy Medical Examiner Thomas Blake, and Jack, the M.E.’s assistant, stared at the raggedy human remains at the bottom of a cliff.
    “Are you sure?” Mac gazed up the nearly vertical rock face as he directed his question toward the M.E., but he didn’t particularly care who answered.
    Abigail responded immediately,