She screamed into the gag, but little sound came out. "What I bring you today, my friends," he addressed the dogs, "is an example of the human condition: the pursuit of perfection." He hoisted the dripping heart aloft as a kind of sacrificial offering. "Who's been good?" He sounded so normaclass="underline" a father to his children.
She glanced at the needle; it seemed so insignificant now.
With the heart clutched in his hands, he said to her, "Be thankful this wasn't you." He tossed the heart up lightly and caught it playfully. It slapped into his gloved hands with a sucking sound. He did this several times, like a child with a ball.
He marched down the center aisle. "Felix, for you," he said as he made the dog sit. "Hold," he said. He dropped the heart in front of the dog. "Not yet," he said. "Not yet."
He walked back to the main door. It sang as it opened.
Felix's full attention was on the chunk of meat in front of him.
"Okay," Tegg commanded.
The dog lunged forward and ate the heart.
WEDNESDAY February 8
"Okay. I've been on the phone all morning consulting some of the best in the business: Dr. Christiansen here in Seattle; Shires in Denver; Rantner and McCullough at Quantico-and the picture is not a pretty one. If this guy has done three, he's done thirty. He likely views the runaways as street scum-but it's unlikely he knows he's killed them. He is trying to prove himself, as much as help those who need the organs. The fact that he's done at least two kidneys and a lung indicates this is not strictly business it's a competency test as well. He's in his early to middle-forties, married, with children."
Shoswitz buffed. She explained, "That's the demographic on veterinarians, Lieutenant. It's my job to play the averages. He's probably attempting to overcome some prior grievance. With a vet, the most obvious is being turned down by medical school." "He's playing doctor," Shoswitz said. "Exactly. Maybe he lost someone close to him either because of a failed organ transplant or, more likely, because of a lack of organ availability. He's now both proving his own abilities and making certain there are plenty of organs to go around so that It doesn't happen to anyone else. "He's had extensive medical training. He may have flunked out of medical school-that may be his grievance. He or an associate has or has had exposure to the runaway and homeless community. He can deal with these kids without raising suspicions."
"So what you're sayin&" Shoswitz tested, "is that these three deaths you turned up are the exception, not the rule."
"That's the opinion, yes. Cindy Chapman is more likely the rule: Harvest the organ, drug and electroshock the donor, and return him or her to the streets. A few of the unlucky ones didn't make it." "Thirty?" Shoswitz asked. "That was Dr. Rantner's minimum estimate based on pattern cycles, his expertise. Two of the victims, Sherman and Blumenthal, occurred within three weeks of each other, suggesting a three-week cycle. But the indication is that this has been going on for at least three years-if, as these bones indicate, the harvests are the work of the same person. Somewhere between twelve and fifteen a year. it could be two or three times that."
"And the body count?" Boldt asked. "Is that consistent?"
"It fits well.
Yes. Three deaths that we've uncovered. At a ten-percent failure rate that still adds up to thirty or more."
"Jesus!" Shoswitz said. "This guy's fucking out of his mind!"
"Not necessarily, Lieutenant," she corrected taking him literally. "Christiansen profiled him as bright, charming even active in the community. He sees himself as going a step beyond-going the extra mile-to save lives. He feels perfectly justified in what he's doing. He feels good about it. Empowered by it. We're dealing with a substantial ego here."
"Robin Hood?" Shoswitz asked incredulously. "Are you telling me this guy believes he is performing some kind of civic duty?"
"Absolutely. That's very well put, Lieutenant. That's it exactly."
A uniformed patrolman knocked and opened the office door.
"Lieutenant? We're ready for you."
Fifteen people were gathered in the situation room. J. C. Adams, Butch and Danny-all working surveillance; several nerds from Tech Services, including Watson, who ran it like it was its own department, which it wasn't; two women, Maria Romanello and Trish Leidecher, veteran Sexual Assault detectives currently assigned to Special Operations. Boldt, Lamoia and Shoswitz followed in behind Daphne.
Shoswitz paced the room rubbing his elbow, and spoke in a commanding voice. "Here's where we stand, everybody: Robbery has quite possibly located the laptop computer that was lifted from a van we had under surveillance. A pawn shop on Pine called in serial numbers to a Toshiba laptop yesterday. The timing and the description of both the laptop and the kid who hocked it were a good match. We sent Watson and crew to have a look at it. Subsequently, we've been informed by them that the laptop is password protected. Watson," he said, turning it over to a man with thick glasses and wet, red lips.
He spoke with a slight lisp. "Given the existence of an unknown password, we are unable to retrieve any file on the hard disk in full. We can only grab data a few sectors at a time, and copying in any kind of order is out altogether. We have programs capable of testing sequences of passwords-trying to 'break the code/ if you will-but with this particular hardware/software combination it's a terribly time consuming process."
Shoswitz cut him off. A couple of the wise guys applauded.
Watson sat down. Shoswitz said, "Obviously we need that password. Interestingly enough, a different individual approached this same pawn shop late yesterday afternoon, claiming he had hocked the laptop, which we know is incorrect.
He wanted the laptop back. He was told to return this morning.
This individual fit the description and through in-store video has subsequently been identified as the driver of the van in question. We would not only like the driver of that van under surveillance, we would also appreciate it if he would give us the password so we could have a look-see at the data. I hope you're following this because I'm not going to repeat it. Sergeant Boldt has decided we will not--I -repeat, will not-detain this individual when he returns this morning to claim the laptop. We will place him under surveillance and hope he leads us to bigger fish. Okay? Got it? But we need this friggin' password in order to get at the laptop, and Sergeant Matthews has some ideas on how we might get it. Sergeant ..." he said turning it over to her.
Daphne scanned the crowd, making eye contact with each person.
"What we're going to do-all of us-is 'trick' the suspect into volunteering the password. Each of you has some role to act out. You've already been briefed on that. What I'm going to be talking about applies to how you approach that role, how you approach the suspect. "We know what this guy looks like-you've all been shown a photocopy of a shot lifted from the store's video. We'll be fully wired. Watson will be set up in the back of the shop." She studied a report. "I've had the chance to study the in-store video of the suspect. This guy is the nervous and anxious type," she said. "He's cocky. He's used to being in control and is not at all comfortable about his present situation. He wants this laptop. And that's why he plays into our hands so well. He's suspicious, which means he'll respond best to negative reinforcement-reverse psychology. We want to play him like a fish-let him run. We act like we don't give a damn. That's what it amounts to. We're in no hurry to help him out. None whatsoever. If he senses our trying to help him, it'll tip him off. He's looking for us-remember that, too.
Those of you who are going to be on the shop floor as patrons, I want you to put him down at every opportunity. That shouldn't be too tough for most of you." More laughter. "Get in his face. Call him an 'asshole." Call him 'stupid-"