Pool_2

Quickly enough their captain's gut hunch was borne out by trophies pulled from under rubble. Dumpsters, like everything else, were thrown outward by the blast. But there was one in particular which seemed to have virtually collapsed. That's what interested the men. Whatever happened, happened here. The inverted metal seemed to have given its life to protect some interesting items. "Damn. Would you look at this." It was no longer a question of what, but why. Why, as usual, hung not as an imponderable but as a judgement, rhetorically questioned, about humanity in general. Curious onlookers had all sorts of probabilities on their lips. Every personal distrust in their own lives somehow related to this mess. But all of this was no mystery to one man, not from the second he arrived. There might have been professional arms length objectivity, to some degree. There is a professional, even scientific, reflex assertion of possible causes to be weighed - the list. Sure, the list, had this been any other address. The list wasn't going to be ignored. Process was process. But, don't underestimate the gut of a craftsman. No. No gut list. Not in this case. Not here. "Venture, my ass. Vultures." This building, on this corner of this block had been just been tempting fate way too long. Criminal arrogance bred here. Something bad to had to blow, eventually. This didn't just happen. Somebody did this. This place was begging this. Get it? Gravity had suspended here. The unusual demeanor of the police authorities? There was a reason these guys were smiling, why the police were anything but somber, almost exuberant. If an explosion had happened, thank God that it happened here. They hated this place. It mocked them. They wanted at it for years and for years they were politically blocked. Christ, if the mayor of Bethdale was found in all that burning shit the men in blue would have had cocktails on the spot. They weren't out