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It was quarter past noon in Miami and Flash was ecstatic. 

He only gets 5 vacation days a year, excluding holidays 

and he was determined to use them to their fullest. This 

day, July fourteenth was his third of the year.   It was a hot 

summer day on the beaches of southern Miami. People 

pack the miles of sand playing volleyball, soccer, and 

catch. People sunbath, swim, and sleep looking normal and 

innocent. Waves crash along the shore making perfect 

conditions for surfers and wake boarders. A gentle breeze 

of cool air soothes the plentiful sunburns amongst the 

crowd. It seems that nothing could ever ruin this perfect 

beach day. But of course something, like always, does.

He was walking along the boardwalk enjoying the day when he 

heard the first explosion. It was 250 meters to his left and far 

in on the beach but the sound hit like a truck. He barely had 

time to process what had happened before the second one 

went off, and then the third, fourth, fifth. It was complete 

chaos until the explosions stopped, after seven more. The 

attack was so sudden and unpredictable, that Flash didn’t know 

what to do. He looked around and saw mutilated corpses and 

people running in terror.   He had been on the phone to his wife 

just minutes before the bombings. He thought to himself My 

wife just saved my life! If she hadn’t called I would have 

walked straight into that blast. Once he regained focus he ran 

towards the site and checked for any survivors, but it was no 

use.

Two hours later, Flash was back at work at the FBI 

headquarters working alongside Det. Flint and Det. 

Espinosa to piece together what happened.

"12 explosions!" exclaimed Flint 

“Ya, starting from my left and going all along to my right. With 

the restaurant in the center of it all”. 

“We should go talk to the restaurant owner then” said Flint. 

And with that they were off. The three had been partners for 

six years now, ever since Flash moved to Miami. They had the 

highest case closure rate in all of the FBI and were recognized 

by the President for their accomplishments. The owner of the 

restaurant was Dan Parsons, a senior citizen who grew up in 

Miami. He told the detectives that he was serving tables when 

the first explosion went off. After they asked if he had seen any 

suspicious faces over the past week he told them about an 

unfamiliar Russian man who had come in the restaurant every 

day for the last week. 

“He came in for only 20 minutes at max and always ordered a 

coffee and paid in cash.” 

“Anything else?” asked Flash. 

“Actually, yes there was something odd that he did. He would 

always sit in the chair looking out towards the beach”. 

“Thank you Dan” said Flint, “this has been most helpful”.

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