The two professors looked at each other, then Gunther said, “How so?”
“How would you describe it?”
“Professional admiration,” Carter offered after they looked at each other again.
“How about collaboration?”
“We read each other’s material, and we’ve talked about it, if that’s what you mean.” She shrugged. “But we’re in different fields.”
“But you’ve reached similar conclusions, which are unlike most other experts in your fields. Did you collaborate on that?”
Gunther and Carter didn’t look at each other this time, like they were trying not to, but just stared at Jon for a few moments as if considering how to answer.
“Where are you going with this, pardner?” Halladay asked.
Jon weighed whether to go all in with the big Scot, as he had been considering doing for some time, and this direct question tilted him that way. He also looked at his phone and noticed there were only seven hours left until Dayfall.
“I know what you’re doing,” Jon said to the two teachers, who both continued to look straight at him. “I know that Gar Render is paying you to create a panic about tomorrow.”
“Whoa… wow,” Halladay reacted.
“You need to admit it to the public now,” Jon continued. “Tell people not to worry, and save this city a lot of trouble.”
“Why would we do something like that, and put our careers at risk?” Carter said. And Gunther added, “Preposterous.”
“It’s a win-win situation for you,” Jon said. “If it happens to hit the fan like you say, you’ll be prophets. If it doesn’t—”
“I’ve had enough of this!” Gunther interrupted, lifting up his old briefcase to his lap as if he was about to leave.
“Shut up and let him talk,” Halladay growled.
When Gunther did shut up, the sandy-haired cop gestured to Jon.
“If it doesn’t happen,” Jon continued, “you can say your warnings prevented the problem. And either way you’ll be rich. And famous, which you’ve already become by making these predictions.”
“I won’t say it’s preposterous,” Carter said, looking sideways at Halladay as Gunther defiantly grunted. “But I can say it’s not true. What are you thinking Mr. Render would gain by paying us?”
“People here will clamor for more security, of course, and that’s what GS offers. ‘We will keep you safe’ is his motto, right? Render will win the referendum vote and take charge of the city.”
“But,” Carter started, her PhD brain at work, “the referendum is after the Dayfall. If what we predict doesn’t happen, we’ll be discredited and Mayor King will look good. There won’t be any need for people to vote for Mr. Render.”
Halladay looked at Jon, as if to say, That’s a good point… isn’t it?
“I don’t think you’ll be discredited,” Jon answered. “Because of how you can spin it. And I thought about the timing issue…. The vote was originally scheduled for earlier, when your articles started being published, and then it was postponed. At that point Render still wanted you to continue, because he wants the city to go to hell tomorrow.”
Jon sensed his partner shifting in his seat, but he pressed on anyway.
“Render wasn’t only relying on your propaganda to ensure panic in the city. Like any good builder, he’s been very thorough, even to the point of sending a killer into the city when the sun has appeared. And he’ll do the same tomorrow if we don’t stop him. That’s why you need to admit that he paid you, so we can expose him and stop the referendum. This is a bad man, one who should not be in charge of your city.”
“That’s all very interesting, though I find it hard to believe.” Carter said this without much hesitation. “But we can’t admit to something we didn’t do. We are not a part of your problem, or your case.”
“Preposterous,” Gunther said again, and thrust his middle finger at Halladay—rather awkwardly, like he didn’t do things like that very often.
“I think you should leave now,” Carter finished, “and find someone who actually knows something about your killer.”
Jon studied them for a moment, then said, “Okay, if you’re innocent, then you wouldn’t mind us looking at your bank accounts, credit cards, et cetera, right? Just to make sure you’re not making or spending an inordinate amount of money since your articles came out.”
“Fine with me,” Gunther said, surprisingly.
“Do you need our permission to do that?” Carter asked.
“If you don’t give us permission,” Jon said, “we’d have to get a subpoena from a judge.”
“Screw a subpoena,” Halladay said. “I don’t need one.”
“It would be a lot easier for us if you gave us permission,” Jon continued. “Then we could just check you out and clear you quickly. Just say it into my phone, and we’re gone.”
Jon turned his camera on and pointed it in the direction of Gunther, who only temporarily hesitated before giving his permission. But when he turned it toward Carter, she hesitated a lot longer and eventually said she needed to check on something and would get back to him with an answer. Jon gave her his number and told her to text him within an hour, or he would be forced to get the subpoena.
The two cops left the office and the building, and didn’t speak to one another until they were alone in the car.
“Okay,” Halladay said before he turned on the ignition. “Spill.”
“Does Gunther look familiar to you?” Jon asked.
“No. Can you just tell me what the hell is going on?”
“I’ll tell you everything when we have some more verification,” Jon said, “Head back to Madison Square. But in the meantime, did you think they were telling the truth?”
Halladay needed a moment to get over his frustration at Jon’s clandestineness, but only a moment because he actually didn’t care that much.
“I thought when you started accusing them,” the sandy-haired cop said, “the conversation took a slight but noticeable turn. Before that they seemed only mildly nervous, like anyone would be when talking to the cops. But then they got cagey when they could tell they were under suspicion in some way.”
“They still didn’t seem nervous enough to be guilty in the way I suspect,” Jon said.
“Or maybe they’re not that worried about being caught.”
Jon called the Gotham Security offices to find out where Gar Render was, so they could visit him again, but after several transfers was told by Gant that his boss was having dinner with his wife and daughter uptown. Jon said it was urgent and asked for his cell number; Gant said, “I’ll see if he can call you.”
“I thought that Marlowe guy always wanted to talk in person,” Halladay said.
“He did,” Jon said. “But we’re running short on time. Keep going past the Flatiron, to the part of the High Line where Shinsky disappeared.”
“Another hunch?” Halladay asked, and Jon nodded.
When they reached the High Line, Jon told Halladay to park underneath it near the locked door that seemed to provide access to the lower parts of the Water Wall.
“It keeps getting warmer outside,” Halladay said as they waited for a return call, and took off his coat. Then he pointed above them, to the underside of the elevated track platform. “The heaters for the grass up there aren’t even on anymore. They’re not humming like they usually do.”
“You’ve been here before?” Jon asked.
“Hmmm?” his partner said, looking around. “I don’t think so, not before today.”
“Then how did you know that about the heaters?”
Halladay cocked his head at Jon, as if to say, Why the suspicious questions? But all he said was, “I’ve lived in this city a long time.”