The Autumn Republic

“That being said,” Fell went on, letting a smile touch her lips, “once we find and dispose of the bomb, each of you will find yourself well rewarded. You’ll receive promotions within the union and a not-insignificant amount of money. Inspector Adamat and I will lead the search. Questions? Yes, Draily?”

The woman by the door lowered her hand. “I don’t know a damn thing about bombs. How am I going to help with all this?”

Adamat cut in before Fell could respond. “No one knows anything about this kind of bomb,” he said. “It’s not gunpowder, but something called blasting oil. It does not respond to flame but rather to concussion, which means that our search needs to be very, very careful. Handle everything gently and, for Adom’s sake, do not drop anything!”

“Then what the pit are we looking for?” the sweating man asked, his voice strained.

“I don’t know,” Adamat admitted. “A container of some sort. The blasting oil was sold in ten clear glass vials, stoppered at the top with corks. Our suspect may have transferred the oil to a new container, or it may still be in those same vials. We’ll make a thorough examination of any liquid on the premises.”

“Does this have anything to do with the bombing at the union headquarters?” one of the women on the bed asked.

“Possibly,” Adamat said. They didn’t need to know anything more than that. “Any other questions?”

A round of headshaking.

“Good,” Fell said. “And again, be damned careful! If you find anything suspicious, let Inspector Adamat know immediately. Don’t make a scene. We want to do this as quietly as possible. Now, everyone to the basement.”

Adamat stepped over to Fell as they all filed out of the room. “The brunette,” Adamat said.

“Little Will?”

“Yes. Something about all this was making him nervous as pit. Grab him and put him under guard.”

Fell gave a quick affirmative and left the room quickly after Will. Adamat passed them in the hall, Fell with her hand on Will’s shoulder and Will’s collar soaked with sweat. Adamat followed the rest of the group down to the cellar. Lanterns were handed out quickly, and voices talked in hushed tones. Adamat held his lantern high and gripped his cane tightly. A tingle went down his spine as he descended into the damp stone basement.

The four union workers looked to him when they reached the bottom, and he realized that Fell had not yet come down. He was seized by sudden suspicion. If even one of them was in on this bomb plot, they might make a go at him. He found himself sizing each of them up, planning the best way to defend himself.

A few moments passed before he realized they were still watching him.

“Well, get to it.”

“Uh, sir,” Draily said. “Look.”

Adamat shook the fear from his head and stepped forward. They stood in a long, arched hallway with walls of stone, and off the hallway to the right were a dozen niches that extended out beneath the hotel. At the far end of the hall was a low, heavy door.

Draily was pointing into the first niche. Adamat held his lantern inside and squinted. “Nothing but wine,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “Is it?”

“Oh.” Realization set in. Of course. Any of these wine bottles could be the bomb or bombs he was looking for. It would be the best place to hide something like that-in plain sight. Adamat tapped his fingers on his stomach, then said, “Search everything else. I’ll check the wine.”

The rest of the group moved on to the other niches, and Adamat began to inspect the wine. At first glance he estimated upward of two thousand bottles here, and Adamat wondered if this was the other part of Ricard’s wine collection or whether the hotel was just this well stocked.

Adamat removed his jacket and hung it from a peg on the wall, rolling his sleeves up. He began examining each wine bottle, starting at the top row. They came in every variety; some were slender, dark-brown bottles, while others were fat green bottles with long necks.

He looked for consistency; the thickness of the dust, how the labels were positioned, as well as the size and shape of the bottle itself. He felt a growing despair as he went-if the blasting oil had been hidden inside a wine bottle, it might be impossible to find. A hotel such as this went through wine at an alarming rate. Some of the bottles had been here for months or years, and those were easy to tell from the layer of dust, but there were still at least eighty bottles that had been handled recently.

“You think our bomber is that devious?” Fell’s voice said from the hallway.

Adamat didn’t look up from his examination. “They’d have to be an idiot not to see the opportunity,” Adamat said. “I don’t know how to go about this without opening four dozen bottles to check their contents.”

“A last resort, I think,” Fell said. “You know how Ricard is about his wine.”

“Would he rather drink a glass of blasting oil?”

“I’ll have to point that out to him.” She paused, then, “You’re certain it’s here?”

“Ricard was certain,” Adamat said. “That’s all I have to go on.”

“He may be wrong.”