"Did anybody question how he dismembered the bodies, or where the rest of them went?"
"I haven't read through everything yet, but no. Most of his crimes were in countries where we're lucky to have gotten any pictures at all. Very low tech, very little money to do sophisticated crime work."
"How sophisticated do you have to be to figure out the difference between tools and teeth?"
"A lot of serial killers use teeth, Blake." She sounded like she felt she had to defend the honor of some far away police.
"I know that, O'Brien, but, oh, hell, it doesn't matter. What does matter is that he's here in our town, right now, and we aren't low tech, and we do have at least a little money to track down the bad guys."
"You're right, Blake. Concentrate on the here and now."
"Do we have enough to question Heinrick and his pal now?"
"I think we might. We can make a case that Heinrick knows about his pal's hobbies. That would make him an accessory before the fact, if not more."
"I'll be down there as soon as I can get out of here."
"Blake, this is not your case. You're one of the potential victims. I think that makes you too close to everything to be objective."
"Don't do this, O'Brien, I've played fair with you."
"This isn't a game, Blake, this is a job. Or do you want credit for everything?"
"I don't give a fuck about credit. I just want to be there when you question Heinrick."
"If you get here in time, but we ain't holding the party up for just you."
"Fine, O'Brien, fine, you're the detective in charge."
"Nice of you to remember that." She hung up on me.
I said a very heartfelt, "Bitch!"
Zerbrowski and Merlioni had eager expectant faces, but Bradley didn't. He could do cop face, but he wasn't an actor. I filled them in, and Zerbrowski was pissed at O'Brien, not for excluding me, but for not even bothering to consider contacting a member of RPIT.
"She's got them in lockup for what, following you around? We've got four murders, maybe more." He looked at me. "You want a ride in a car with sirens and lights, so that we can fucking get there before she does something to wreck our case?"
I liked the 'our case,' and I liked that he asked me along. Dolph probably wouldn't have, even if he hadn't been mad at me.
I nodded. "I'd love to go riding in and wave jurisdictional flags in her face."
He grinned. "Give me ten minutes to give everybody their marching orders, then meet me downstairs. We'll borrow a marked car. People always get out of the way faster for a marked car." He was out the door and down the stairs humming to himself.
Merlioni went after him, saying, "Who has to stay here with the tub o' death cleanup?" I don't think Merlioni wanted to be included in the cleanup, not even to supervise.
Bradley and I found ourselves alone. It was unheard of for a fed, two feds I guess, to be left alone at a murder scene like this. Most locals hated the feds, and the feds hated them right back.
I looked up at Bradley. "Now that I've made all the connections you wanted me to make, tell me why you really came down here."
He closed the manila envelope and handed it to me. "To solve a crime."
"Solving these crimes would add to your unit's clout. Last time we spoke you needed that clout."
He was looking at me carefully.
"Are you here officially, Bradley?"
"Yes."
I stared into his bland face. "Are you here officially just as an FBI agent?"
"Don't know what you mean."
"You told me once that I'd come to the attention of some of the less savory branches of our government, the spooks, I think you called them. Is Van Anders a spook?"
"No government in their right mind would want an animal like this in their country."
"Talk to me, Bradley, talk to me, or the next time we meet I'm not going to trust you like I do right this minute."
He sighed and suddenly looked tired. He rubbed at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "These murders were brought to our attention. But I'd seen crimes like this before. In a different country, in a place where the government was more worried about staying in power than protecting helpless women." There was a look in his eyes, something faraway, and pain-filled.
"You said you got out of that line of work."
"I did." He looked very steadily at me, no cop eyes now. "Men like Van Anders were one of the reasons I couldn't keep doing it. But when certain people found out that Van Anders might actually have been let loose within the confines of the United States, they weren't happy. I have a one time permission to help things along here."
"What's the price tag on this help?"
"Heinrick will be escorted out of the country. They'll never put a name to the second man he was taken in with. It will all disappear."
"Heinrick is a suspected terrorist. You think that they'll just let him walk?"
"He's wanted in five different countries that we have strong treaties with. Who do we give him to, Anita? Better to just let him go."
"Don't you want to know why he was in town? I know I want to know why he was following me."
"I told you why these kind of people would want you."
"So I can raise the dead for them. A political leader here, a few zombie bodyguards there," I tried to make a joke of it, but Bradley wasn't laughing.
"You know the man you found nailed to his living room wall?"
"Yeah."
"He knew Heinrick and Van Anders, and he felt that they were too extreme. He left and he hid, but not well enough."
"If it was an execution, why make it look like some sort of ritual murder?"
"So it wouldn't look like an execution."
"Why did they care?" I asked.
He shook his head. "It was a message, Anita. They wanted him dead, and they wanted him dead in such a way that it would be sensational enough to make headlines. They wanted his death out there for all the others like him, like me, that left."
"You don't know this for sure, Bradley."
"Not all of it, but I know that everyone involved wants Van Anders caught, and Heinrick gone."
"What about the others?"
"I don't know."
"Are they gone for good, or should I still be worried?"
"Be worried, Anita, I would be."
"Great." Something occurred to me. "I know this is all off the record for you. Well, I've got one thing off the record to ask you."
"I can't promise, but what is it?"
I gave him Leo Harlan's name, and a general description, because it's not that hard to change your name. "He says he's an assassin, and I believe him. He says he's here on a sort of vacation, and I believe that, too. But St. Louis is suddenly lousy with internationally wanted bad guys, and I'd be curious to know if my client is tied to them somehow."
"I'll check around."
"If he comes up on any of your hit parades, I'll avoid him, and refuse to raise his ancestor. If he doesn't, I'll do the job."
"Even though he's an assassin?"
I shrugged. "Who am I to throw stones, Bradley? I try not to judge people more than I have to."
"Or maybe you're getting more comfortable with murderers."
"Yeah, all my friends are either criminals, monsters, or cops."
That made him smile.
Zerbrowski yelled from downstairs. "Anita, yo, we're out of here."
I gave Bradley my cell phone number. He copied it down. I ran for the stairs.
56
O'Brien had started the interrogation before we got there. People in St. Louis didn't seem to understand that sirens and lights on a police car meant get the fuck out of the way. It was almost as if the police car with all flags flying made a gawkers' block around us. The drivers were so busy trying to figure out why we were in such a rush that they forgot to get out of the way.