He gave a brief humorless laugh. The visit was not, it seemed, about him at all. A solid African American guard was delivering another prisoner, who was even larger than the turnkey, a huge man, unclean, hair slicked back. Even from across the room the man’s body odor spread out like ripples on a calm pond.
The man looked Shales over with a narrow gaze and then turned to watch the guard glance at them both, close the cell door and walk off down the hall. The new prisoner hawked and spit on the floor.
The drone pilot rose and moved to the far corner of the cell.
The other prisoner remained where he was, head turned away. Yet the airman had the sense that he was aware of every move of Shales’s hands or feet, every shift on the bench, every breath that he took.
My new home…
CHAPTER 81
“You’re sure?” Laurel asked.
“Yes,” Rhyme said, “Barry Shales is innocent. He and Metzger weren’t responsible for de la Rua’s death.”
Laurel was frowning.
The criminalist said, “I…there was something I didn’t see.”
“Rhyme, what?” Sachs asked.
He was watching Nance Laurel’s face grow still once more; this was how she responded to pain. Her prized case was again dissolving before her eyes.
Nothing’s going to stop me now…
Sellitto said, “Talk to me, Linc. The fuck’s going on?”
Mel Cooper remained silent and curious.
Rhyme explained, “Look at the wounds.” He expanded the autopsy picture, focusing in on the lacerations on the journalist’s face and neck.
He then moved another photo next to it: the crime scene itself. De la Rua lay on his back, blood streaming from the same cuts. He was covered with shards of glass. But none of them was actually sticking into a wound.
“Why wasn’t I thinking?” Rhyme muttered. “Look at the measurements of the lacerations on the autopsy report. Look at them! The wounds’re just a few millimeters wide. A glass shard would be much thicker than that. And how could they all be so uniform? I saw them but I didn’t see them.”
“He was stabbed to death,” Sellitto said, nodding.
“Has to be,” Rhyme said. “A knife blade is one to three millimeters in width, two to three centimeters in depth.”
Sachs: “And the killer tossed some glass onto de la Rua’s body to make it look like he was killed accidentally as collateral damage.”
Sipping his sweet coffee, Sellitto muttered, “Pretty fucking smart. And he killed the guard too, the same way. Because he’d be a witness. But who did it?”
Rhyme said, “Obviously. Five Sixteen. We know he was near suite twelve hundred around the time of the drone strike. And remember that a knife’s his weapon of choice.”
Sachs said, “Well, we also know something else: Five Sixteen’s a specialist. He wasn’t doing this for the fun of it. He’s working for somebody – somebody who wanted the reporter dead.”
Rhyme said, “Right, his boss is the one we want.” His eyes were on the chart once more. “But who the hell is he?”
“Metzger,” Pulaski said.
“Maybe,” Rhyme said slowly.
Laurel said, “Whoever it was knew Moreno was going to be in the Bahamas and that an STO was going to be executed. And when.”
“Rookie, you get on the motive issue. You’re our Argentinian reporter maven. Who wanted him dead?”
Pulaski asked, “Find out what stories he was working on, controversial ones?”
“Well, yes, of course. And feathers he’d ruffled. But I also want to know his personal life – people he knew, investments he’d made, family, vacation places he went to, real estate he owned.”
“You mean everything? Like who he was sleeping with?”
Rhyme muttered, “I’ll let you get away with a preposition at the end of that sentence but I won’t allow the improper pronoun.”
“Sorry. I should’ve said, ‘with who him was sleeping,’” the young officer fired back.
Laughter all around.
“Okay, Ron, I probably deserved that. Yes, everything you can find.”
For an hour, then two, Pulaski, with Sachs helping, dug into the journalist’s personal life and career and downloaded what articles and blog posts of his they could find.
They printed out everything and brought it to the table in front of Rhyme.
The young officer spread the material out and the criminalist began reading through those that were in English. Then he summoned Pulaski. “Ron, I need you to be Berlitz.”
“Who?”
“Translate these headlines.” Gesturing to the Spanish language articles de la Rua had written.
For another hour they went through the stories, Rhyme asking questions, which Pulaski translated quickly and with precision.
Finally, Rhyme gazed up at the whiteboards.
Robert Moreno Homicide
Boldface indicates updated information
Crime Scene 1.
Suite 1200, South Cove Inn, New Providence Island, Bahamas.
May 9.
Victim 1: Robert Moreno.
COD: Single gunshot wound to chest.
Supplemental information: Moreno, 38, U.S. citizen, expatriate, living in Venezuela. Vehemently anti American. Nickname: “the Messenger of Truth.” Determined that “disappear into thin air” and “blowing them up” NOT terrorism references.
Shoes contained fibers associated with carpet in hotel corridor, dirt from hotel entryway, also crude oil.
Clothing contained traces of breakfast: pastry flakes, jam and bacon, also crude oil.
Spent three days in NYC, April 30–May 2.
May 1, used Elite Limousine.
Driver Tash Farada. (Regular driver Vlad Nikolov was sick. Trying to locate. Prob. homicide. )
Closed accounts at American Independent Bank and Trust, prob. other banks too.
Drove around city with interpreter Lydia Foster (killed by Unsub 516).
Reason for anti U.S. feelings: best friend killed by U.S. troops in Panama invasion, 1989.
Moreno’s last trip to U.S. Never would return.
Meeting in Wall Street.
No record of terrorist investigations in area.
Met with unknown individuals at Russian, UAE (Dubai) charities and Brazilian consulate.
Met with Henry Cross, head of Classrooms for the Americas. Reported that Moreno met with other charities, but doesn’t know which. Man following Moreno, white and “tough looking.” Private jet tailing Moreno? Blue color. Checking for identification.
No leads.
Victim 2: Eduardo de la Rua.
COD: Loss of blood. Lacerations from knife wounds.
Supplemental information: Journalist, interviewing Moreno. Born Puerto Rico, living in Argentina.
Camera, tape recorder, gold pen, notebooks missing.
Shoes contained fibers associated with carpet in hotel corridor, dirt from hotel entryway.
Clothing contained traces of breakfast: allspice and pepper sauce.
Victim 3: Simon Flores.
COD: Loss of blood. Lacerations from knife wounds.
Supplemental information: Moreno’s bodyguard. Brazilian national, living in Venezuela.
Rolex watch, Oakley sunglasses missing.
Shoes contained fibers associated with carpet in hotel corridor, dirt from hotel entryway, also crude oil.
Clothing contained traces of breakfast: pastry flakes, jam and bacon, also crude oil and cigarette ash.
Chronology of Moreno in Bahamas.
May 7. Arrived Nassau with Flores (guard).
May 8. Meeting out of hotel all day.
May 9. 9 a.m. Meeting two men about forming Local Empowerment Movement in Bahamas. 10:30 a.m. de la Rua arrives. At 11:15 a.m. Moreno shot.
Suspect 1: Shreve Metzger.
Director, National Intelligence and Operations Service.
Mentally unstable? Anger issues.
Manipulated evidence to illegally authorize Special Task Order?
Divorced. Law degree, Yale.
Suspect 2: Unsub 516.