“I wish I knew. Look, Wally, can you wait until tomorrow for those specs? I want to get hold of the police.”
“Certainly. Nothing urgent. It can wait. I’ll call you again tomorrow evening.” The screen blanked.
Mike glanced at the wall clock and then punched a number on the phone. A pretty girl in a blue uniform came on the screen.
“Police Central,” she said. “May I help you?”
“I’d like to speak to Detective Sergeant William Cowder, please,” Mike said. “Just tell him that Mr. Gabriel has more problems.”
She looked puzzled, but she nodded, and pretty soon her image blanked out. The screen stayed blank, but Sergeant Cowder’s voice came over the speaker. “What is it, Mr. Gabriel?”
He was evidently speaking from a pocket phone.
“Attempted murder,” said Mike the Angel. “A few minutes ago a bomb was set off in my apartment. I think it was a rocket, and I know it was heavily laced with hydrogen cyanide. That’s Suite 5000, Timmins Building, up on 112th Street. I called you because I have a hunch it’s connected with the incident at Harry’s earlier this evening.”
“Timmins Building, eh? I’ll be right up.”
Cowder cut off with a sharp click, and Mike the Angel looked quizzically at the dead screen. Was he imagining things, or was there a peculiar note in Cowder’s voice?