Screw you, Jack. But Janet said, “Any prints, hair, or fibers?”
“Fibers from a cotton shirt. But the cars were wiped down clean. He even used a solvent, if you can believe it.”
I asked, “And the bodies in my apartment?”
He shook his head. “Not helpful. One Caucasian male, and the other was of Latin extraction. No IDs were on their bodies, their prints aren’t on file, their photos were run through the FBI’s database and there’s no record. Both were carrying modified Uzis, and we’re unable to trace them. Also, there were some blood splatters on your porch, but nobody’s turned up in any area hospitals.”
I asked, “And our families?”
“The FBI has established clandestine surveillance nets around all of them. Everybody’s fine and healthy, and we’ll keep them that way.”
I asked, “How’s Spinelli?”
“He’ll be in a sling a few months. He was released from the hospital about an hour ago.”
I stretched and yawned. I knew I needed to hear all this, but I didn’t trust Jack MacGruder and I wanted him to disappear. I trusted and liked Janet, and I wanted her to disappear also.
I guess Janet read my mind because she said, “Jack, he’s exhausted. Why don’t I walk you out?”
“Uh… okay, fine.” I drained my scotch, fell back onto the bed, and the next thing
I knew it was morning. And Jack was back. And he brought George.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
I let them into my room, and while Meany called room service and ordered breakfast, I slipped into the bathroom to shower, shave, and dress. Just knowing MacGruder was nearby, I didn’t even bend over to wash my little toes.
When I walked out of the bathroom, I was squeaky clean, I felt rested, I still had my charge card and virginity, and was looking quite debonair in my blue serge Brooks Brothers rags. Meany was seated at the table with MacGruder, and somebody had obviously gone next door and invited Janet, who now sat beside George. A cart piled with plates of steak, eggs, bagels, pancakes, donuts, and so forth was parked next to them.
Meany smiled at me. “Thanks for breakfast, Drummond. It’s delicious.”
“What the hell did you order?”
“Everything on the menu. Relax. You’re rich.”
Hah-hah. Prick. The Agency was paying for it.
Meany pointed at a chair. “Why don’t you join us?”
“Yeah. My room, my food… I should definitely join you.”
So I sat. I filled a plate, and then Meany and MacGruder made me recount everything that happened the day before, and peppered me with questions about whether I’d been convincing, and was everybody buying my baloney. This went on for twenty minutes, and I must’ve made a pretty good case, because neither Meany nor MacGruder expressed any arguments, nor offered any suggestions.
Still, when I finished, Meany just had to say, “It’s just too bad we had to go through all this. If you hadn’t stuck your nose where it doesn’t belong, Drummond… none of this had to happen.”
“What does that mean?”
“Simple. You nearly compromised a very important operation that we worked a long time to build. You nearly exposed one of our agents. We really don’t appreciate ignorant clowns messing around in our business.”
Of course, Meany was posturing for Miss You-know-who. Also, I guess, that little incident on my back porch had left some bruised feelings. He was chewing his breakfast a bit gingerly. So maybe he couldn’t stop himself, but I’d had enough of him, and he’d called me a clown once too often, and I knew I shouldn’t but I said, “Did I make your job hard, George?”
“Damned right you did.”
“What is your job?”
“You know damn well what my job is.”
“I know what you said your job was. But in fact, that wasn’t your job, was it?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
But for a guy who was merely confused over semantics he did in fact look nervous.
I asked him, “Are you still telling the public you’re hunting the
L. A. Killer?” “Is that what this is about? You’re still trying to second-guess us?”
I now had Janet’s attention, and she said to George, “Is that true?”
George ignored her and said to me, “In a case of this scope and importance, the choice of suspects is out of my hands.”
“Is it really?”
“Yes.”
“Do you believe it’s the L. A. Killer?”
“I might have a few doubts. In murder cases, I always have doubts. As an attorney, I would expect you to understand that.” He added, “The Bureau’s position is that the similarities between here and L. A. remain persuasive.”
“What about the differing physical descriptions?”
“I’m glad you raised that issue. Had you read the morning paper, you’d know that one of the two witnesses who claimed she saw the L. A. Killer three years ago recanted. She admits the man she saw could’ve been much taller.”
“Or maybe he gained a foot since then?” I suggested.
“He was bending over, shoving the victim into a car, and she admits she probably misjudged his height.”
“How convenient.”
“What are you implying, Drummond? I don’t control what witnesses say.”
It was time to switch tacks, so I asked, “How did you get to my apartment so fast yesterday?”
“How did I…?” He paused, then said, “I work around the clock. I was at Martin’s office, coordinating, when one of your neighbors called and reported gunfire. We checked the address, saw it was your building, and I thought I’d better be there.”
George had just made his fatal mistake. And I think he knew it. He had to know, as a cop experienced in interrogation, that the whole trick is to prod that first unsupportable lie from the suspect’s lips.
“Who called?” I asked him.
“I… I don’t remember. Actually, I never knew. Martin’s people took the call.”
“Odd. The Alexandria station is over fifteen minutes away. You were at my apartment inside three minutes. Account for that.”
“I’m not going to account for it. I’m not here to be interrogated by you. You’re way out of line.”
Janet suddenly bent forward and said, “Answer him, George. I’d like to know, too.”
He stared at her. “Honey, I can’t believe you’re taking this jerk’s side. I… are you forgetting us… what you mean to me?”
But Janet had put two and two together. She leaned back and studied George. She said, “You’re supposed to cover this up. You’re supposed to mislead the public… to hide the true identity of the killer.”
“That’s not true, honey. I-”
I said to Janet, “I wouldn’t be surprised if George was the one who tipped off the press, and made the connection with the L. A. Killer. Not only that,” I added, “I’ll bet George was supposed to make sure the killer wasn’t captured, to make sure this guy died with the secret of who he worked for.”
Meany sat back in his chair. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but if I had to guess, it would start with putting a bullet through my forehead. And it would end with the realization that the gig was up.
Never one to leave well enough alone, I continued, “So, you’re a bright guy, George. And you figured out I was taunting the killer, that I was setting myself up. So you and Martin… you what?… you set up a stakeout around my building?”
He had not yet made up his mind to be cooperative, so I further suggested, “Your guys had the killer’s composite, and if they laid eyes on him, they had orders to shoot to kill. Right?”
“Don’t be an idiot. We were there to protect you. You owe me your thanks, Drummond.”
“And a fine job you did. I’ll remember to call you the next time my life’s at risk.”
When he failed to reply to that, I asked, “How did they get past you, George?”
“You’re such a smart guy, you figure it out.”
So I did. I said, “They didn’t. They were already inside my building.”