Any IED needed five basic components: a trigger, a power supply, an explosive material, a charge, and a containing unit. The rest was just showmanship.
Thisbomb had everything but a trigger. There was no timer, no remote switch, not even a manual detonation. If the wires were attached to the batteries, why hadn’t the bomb gone off? What was containing the conduction?
Why hadn’t it gone off already?
Demo stripped the coating from a wire and pulled out his multimeter. It came back with nothing. There was no voltage between the batteries and the wires, yet the wires were clearly attached to the batteries. Even old batteries could hold enough of a charge to spark an ignition. The batteries would have to be completely and utterly dead to not have gone off the moment the bomb maker touched the wires to the batteries.
Scar put the scope and drill down, bending closer to examine the device.
“You see it too?” Demo asked him, wanting to ensure he wasn’t so out of practice that he was missing something.
Scar’s eyebrows scrunched in a way that told Demo he was just as confused by the device as Demo was.
“What the fuck is going on?” He was not surprised when he got no answer. “Just to be safe, I want to disconnect these wires. Can you start pulling off as much clay as you can without touching the wires?”
Scar gave a nod. He pulled a knife out and used the blade to scrape away the excess plastic explosive on the outside of the bucket. Taking a wire cutter out of his bag, Demo started to clip the wires. One of the first lessons he’d learned in basics was that “a wire was a wire was a wire”. It meant that just because the rubber coating on the outside of a wire meant something specific to each country, it did not mean the wire underneath changed or had different functions.
It wasn’t like in the movies when the hero automatically knew to “cut the yellow wire!” two seconds before the timer went off. Even electricians knew better than to trust the color coding system because amateurs did not always follow the National Electrical Code. Cutting a random wire senselessly was reckless and extremely dangerous.
But these were all dead wires. There was no electricity flowing through any of them. Still, Demo was careful and took nothing for granted. It could all be a trick.
Finally, he severed the last one. After checking for a pressure plate and finding none, Demo lifted the two batteries out of the bucket and away from the explosives.
His knees and lower pants were soaked through from the snow. He hadn’t even noticed, concentrating solely on the bomb.
Demo called out, “All clear!” to the others at the SUVs.
Though the bomb appeared to have been a dud, Demo’s shoulders sagged in relief. That could have ended very differently. He turned around to thank Scar for his assistance, only to find the other man was gone.
The collective feelinside the clubhouse was anger mixed with confusion.
Pumpkin clasped Demo on the shoulder—thankfully his right—and laughed, “Good to see you didn’t lose any more fingers!”
Now that the adrenaline was leaving Demo’s system, many things became apparent. His left shoulder was throbbing relentlessly, he was freezing cold, and he needed to take a piss. Once the clubhouse and all of the homes had been swept to ensure there were no other devices, the patched members all entered the clubhouse. Most of them were still in pajamas of some sort. Demo hadn’t noticed before, but Keys was wearing pajama bottoms with penguins wielding lightsabers on them. Most of the others were in sweatpants and hastily donned boots with their jackets.
As soon as the others noticed Keys’ pants, they started to razz him about them.
“We leave the women and children where they are for now,” Bulldog informed everyone in a loud voice. It immediately halted all the jokes and taunting at Keys.
“Jumper and Grumpy are on their way down the drive,” Ghost told the SAA. “Jumper did not want to bring Jazz with him nor did he want to leave her alone so Pirate stayed behind.”
As an officer, Jumper’s presence was required. Pirate could be filled in on everything later.
Demo understood Jumper’s reluctance to leave Jasmine alone. They lived off property. Then again, until this morning, Demo had believed the club’s property was the safest place. If the bomb hadn’t been a dud?
He shuddered at the thought—and then flinched as his shoulder protested.
“Contact Carlos,” Steel told Bulldog. “We don’t know what this is yet, but it might not be isolated.” He looked between Keys and Demo. “Is the jammer off?”
Keys nodded. He had two tablets and his laptop set up in front of him on the front bar. “I am also running a trace for any external signals.”
“No point,” Demo told him. “There was no trigger. Even if someone had ‘pressed the red button’,” he said with air quotes using his right hand only, “nothing would have happened. They either forgot to add it or had no intention of adding it.”
“What would that do?” Lucky demanded. “Why build a bomb but not add a trigger?”
Demo shrugged. “First time in my experience but any idiot has access toGooglenowadays. Just be grateful the batteries had no charge left in them. At least, that’s what I’m assuming the issue is.”
Which Demo still found extremely odd. Most batteries had a reserve, which was how devices recognized being at low battery level. A controlled discharge was the best way to ensure draining the entire battery, like leaving a cellphone’s flashlight on. Who was dumb enough to let the batteries they intended to use for a bomb be drained first?