I held up my palms: so what?
“Look at the sheet again.”
I scanned it. The woman’s name was Amy Sue Morris. But she didn’t look anything like the woman who had shot Lindsey.
“Women can redo their hair,” he said. “Here are the two salient facts. First, in the sentencing, she went nuts. Peralta was in the courtroom and she threatened to kill him and his family. Second, she was released a week before Christmas from the Perryville prison.”
“Eric, it’s not the same woman. The one who nearly killed Lindsey is after the diamonds. She wore Chanel Number Five. How many released prisoners do that? I smelled Chanel Number Five in Pennington’s office. She had been there.”
“You’re a perfume expert?”
He was almost making me start to doubt myself. But the woman I had tangled with had moves they don’t train you for in prison.
Pham cut me off. “I don’t want to get distracted here. The asset told me that the phone rang while you were in Pennington’s office, you answered it claiming to be Pennington. The man expects you to call him.”
I nodded.
“What did he sound like?”
“No accent. Baritone. No background noise. When I asked about Peralta, he said that he was ‘a different problem,’ that it was better for me not to know. Also, he told me that Mann’s window is closing.”
Pham stiffened. “He named Horace Mann?”
I nodded and he wrote it down on a legal pad.
“What about Pamela Grayson? Did that name come up?”
I shook my head. “But he also knew about the hitwoman. He named her. Amy Morris. That’s the same name that Phoenix PD identified when they raided a place up by the Biltmore this morning. She’s been wounded but she was gone.”
“Wounded?” Pham raised an eyebrow.
“I shot her last night but she was wearing body armor. I followed her to the house. If she doesn’t have anything to do with the diamonds, why did Horace Mann show up there this morning?”
“Because you called it in.”
“But…”
“You’re creating a feedback loop to bring everything back to the person who shot your wife. It’s understandable. You’re emotionally involved. You’re also blinded by it.” He tapped the corrections report. “That’s your female. Give that to Phoenix PD.”
“I know what I know.” Still, I forced my breathing to slow down and took a careful, objective look. It wasn’t her. The eyes, mouth, and cheekbones were all wrong, even if she could have changed her hair so radically.
I said, “Why are you so goddamned uncurious about this woman?”
He was unruffled, his voice the schoolmaster dealing with an unruly and not-so-bright pupil. “Do you have any idea how serious it is for evidence to be stolen from a secure Federal Bureau of Investigation facility?”
“I know it’s embarrassing.”
Now he did a little stretch with his head and neck, a man struggling with his temper. I was half a second from being thrown out of his sanctum and pushed away from the case.
He said, “This is very real, Doctor Mapstone. Someone with the clearance to smuggle out that evidence might be greedy. Or she could have the means to penetrate other highly secure Bureau operations. This is a national security matter.”
I tried nodding with great seriousness. Then, “Where did these diamonds originate? Before they were in your evidence room?”
He squared his shoulders. “It’s not a ‘room,’ and I can’t disclose the origin of the evidence. Retrieving the diamonds and arresting the rogue agent is Washington’s top priority, right from the director.”
“And Peralta’s safety?”
“He volunteered,” Pham said. “I have confidence he can take care of himself.”
“Even though you don’t know where he is?”
“You talked to him.” The schoolmaster’s tone again. “He sounded like a man in control of the situation.”
God, I hated the feds, most of them anyway. Peralta could conceal his troubles better than anyone I ever knew. The only thing I learned from calling him was that he was still alive.
Pham said, “I know you have many questions.”
That was an understatement.
“I’ll tell you what I can. The Bureau owes you as the one who wrapped up the only unsolved murder of an FBI agent in history.” His eyes bore in. “But goodwill only goes so far, and I need you to make that call. Are you on the team?”
I pressed my jaw together and nodded. “I do have a few things to clear up.” Best to start with a relative softball. “Why were you fired as the SAC, at least that was the cover story? Seems to me it might telegraph to your suspect that the Bureau was waiting for him.”
“We thought about that but decided the suspect wanted her diamonds so much she wouldn’t be thinking that way. She would likely know we were tracking the gems and knew they were coming here. She’d find a way to create a distraction and get them.”
“Pamela Grayson.”
Pham tapped on a six-inch set of files. No paperless office at Johnnie’s “We’re talking about a senior person with plenty of access to evidence and intel. She fits perfectly. Look, if we had played it straight, we might have gotten the Russians. But there’s a very good chance we wouldn’t have caught the rogue agent or anyone else she was working with. This could be a conspiracy within the FBI.”
“‘Anyone else.’ The question mark on the white board.”
“Exactly. Removing me as SAC sent a powerful message through the Bureau. I was to blame for the failed operation. The suspect would let down her guard. We’ve got her phones and computers under surveillance.”
“But Horace Mann fits this profile, too,” I said. “He fits it better.”
Pham shrugged. “The asset told me you believe this.”
“So did the guy who called Pennington’s office.” I studied Pham’s face and decided not to push it. “So let’s say I’m wrong. Mann is totally legit. Why is he leaving me alone? I haven’t seen him since Friday night in the High Country.”
“He doesn’t take you seriously,” Pham said. “Don’t be offended. You’re a former history professor who worked for the local Sheriff’s Office. He’s done enough checking to believe you didn’t know about the robbery in advance and Peralta won’t be contacting you. Your phones might be tapped but that’s it. He’s only got so many agents to stake out locations and follow people.”
Once again I was grateful Lindsey had turned my iPhone into an impenetrable dark device. No reason for Eric Pham to know this.
I tried something tougher. “So how was the operation supposed to go down?”
He hesitated and drew a deep breath. “All right, Doctor Mapstone. But this is confidential FBI information. Do you understand?”
“Sure.”
He swung his computer screen so we could both see it and tapped on the keyboard. A color video appeared.
“This is Terminal Four at Sky Harbor on Friday morning. As you can see, Peralta and the other guard approach this man.” He pointed to a nondescript middle-aged Anglo in a cheap suit. “That’s the jeweler. He’s passed through security to the main terminal. Peralta signs for the shipment and takes the rolling suitcase. It has the diamonds inside.”
More tapping and black-and-white images came up. “This is from the service hallway at the mall.”
Here was something I had already seen. A mall security guard lets in Peralta and Cartwright. There’s a conversation and the mall guard walks ahead several paces and disappears around the corner. Then Peralta pushes Ed back and draws his weapon. He fires and Ed goes down. Peralta walks quickly toward the camera, pulling the suitcase, and going back the way he came.
I said, “So far, so good?”
“All according to plan.”
Another view appeared on the screen, this time in color. Peralta was walking fast, carrying the suitcase now. He opened the door to his pickup, tossed the bag inside, backed up, and drove toward the street. It is a huge parking lot. Almost every space was taken. Two, no, three shoppers walked by as he cruised past.