An excerpt from Building 7: Broom thanked Jennings, then drove back to One Police Plaza. When he got to his desk, he checked with his credit card sources again, and found out there were four William Rodriguez’ in the area. He got the addresses and phone numbers for all four men, and in a matter of minutes he had the right one, the man identifying himself as the William Rodriguez who worked in the North Tower. “I need to talk to you” Broom told him. “Will you be home for awhile?” “Yes, sir, I’ll be here. Is this about what happened in the North Tower?” “Yes. I’ll be over shortly.” And he hung up ... He drove to his house, saw a television van parked on the street, got out of his sedan and walked to the house, knocking on his front door. Rodriguez answered the door and after seeing Broom’s shield, invited him in. They sat in the living room. Broom noted Rodriguez was in excellent physical condition, about six feet tall, with strong, handsome facial features. Jet black, thick hair. “How can I help you, Detective?” “You worked in the North Tower?” Rodriguez nodded, gazing directly at Broom with a serious expression. “Yes. For more than twenty years.” “What did you do there?” “I was a janitor. I work for American Building Maintenance. My job was to work the stairwells. Keep them clean.” “That must be some job,” Broom said. “No wonder you seem to be in such good shape.” “Are you kidding? Have you ever had to climb a hundred ten floors every day?” Broom tried to smile. “No, I haven’t. Tell me, Mr. Rodriguez, what happened yesterday morning.” “I got to work late. It’s a good thing I did, because I always eat breakfast in Windows On the World. If I hadn’t been late, I wouldn’t be here anymore. So because I was late instead of going up to the 107th floor, I went straight to the office. It’s in B-1, I mean it was in B-1. The basement. There were six sub-levels in the North Tower. B-1 through B-6, B-6 being at the very bottom. “No sooner did I get to B-1 than there was this huge explosion on the B-2 level right below us. I thought one of the main generators had blown up down there. The explosion was so powerful the B-1 floor rose up several inches, the walls cracked everywhere and the ceiling came down, and everyone started screaming.” “The floor raised up several inches?” Rodriguez nodded. “It was like an earthquake. It moved all the desks and chairs right up off the floor. Very powerful. Just a few seconds later, I heard another explosion. This one came from way up in the North Tower. It was the plane. American Airlines Flight Eleven. The whole building shook.” “Are you sure the first explosion came from below B-1?” “Yes, it definitely came from below. Like I said, it came from the B-2 level. They were two separate explosions. Two separate events.” For the next thirty minutes, Rodriguez detailed his activities inside and outside the building until the North Tower collapsed, Broom staring at him with complete admiration. Rodriguez’s performance was heroic. Superhuman. He had rescued dozens of people, saving their lives from certain death. No wonder there was a television van outside. “Is there anything else you want to know?” Rodriguez asked. He gestured toward the outside of his house. “One of the local stations wants to do an interview with me.” He glanced at his watch. “In about ten minutes.” “No, Mr. Rodriguez. That should do it. I want to thank you for your cooperation.” The two of them rose to their feet and solemnly shook hands. As he left the house, Broom knew that Rodriguez had told him the truth. No lies, no exaggeration. Rodriguez was a credible witness, just like Barry Jennings. In a court of law, the jury would believe him simply because he was believable. The man had no deceit in him. A straight-shooter. He shook his head as he walked to his sedan, realizing that the towers had been brought down by internally placed explosives. A controlled demolition. He thought back to what he had told Stella at the Italian restaurant. If it quacks like a duck, walks like a duck, looks like a duck, then it is a duck.