SERIAL SIDE- In a life-or-death struggle, Times reporter Jack McEvoy grappled with the knife-wielding Marc Courier on the top floor of the Mesa Verde Inn before distracting him with the tools of his trade: words. When the suspected serial killer dropped his guard, McEvoy got the upper hand and Courier fell down a stairwell shaft to his death. Authorities say the suspect left behind more questions than answers. 18 inches w/art BERNARD
DATA- They call them bunkers and farms. They sit in pastures and deserts. They are as nondescript as the nameless warehouses that line industrial streets in every city in the country. Data storage centers are billed as economical, dependable and secure. They store vital digital files that remain just a fingertip away no matter where your business is located. But this week’s investigation into how two men used stored files to choose, stalk and prey on women is raising questions about the industry that has seen explosive growth in recent years. Authorities say the bottom-line question is not where or how you should store your digital information. The question is, who is minding it? The Times learns that many storage facilities hire the best and the brightest to safeguard their data. The problem is, sometimes the best and the brightest are former criminals. Suspect Marc Courier is a case in point. 25 inches w/art GOMEZ-GONZMART
They were going all-out again. The story package would lead the paper and be the authoritative report on the case. All other media outlets would have to credit the Times or scramble to match it. It would be a good day for the Times. The editors could already smell a Pulitzer.
I closed the screen and thought about the sidebar story Larry was going to write. He was right. There were more questions than answers.
I opened a new document on the screen and wrote my best recollection of the exact exchange I’d had with Courier. It took me only five minutes because the truth was that not a lot was said.
ME: Where’s McGinnis? Did he send you to do the dirty work? Just like in Nevada?
HIM: No response.
ME: Does he tell you what to do? He’s your mentor on murder and tonight the master won’t be happy with the student. You went oh for two.
HIM: McGinnis is dead, you dumb fuck! I buried him in the desert. Just like I was going to bury your bitch when I was through with her. Me: Why didn’t you just run? Why risk everything to go for her?
HIM: No answer.
When I was finished I read it a couple of times and made a few fixes and additions. Larry was right. It came down to that last question. Courier had been about to respond but I’d used the distraction to catch him off guard. I didn’t regret that. The distraction may have saved my life. But I sure wished I had an answer to the question I had asked.
The next morning the Times basked in the glow of national news exposure and I was along for the ride. I had written none of the stories causing the nationwide media stir but I was the subject of two of them. My phone never stopped buzzing and my e-mail box over-flowed early.
But I didn’t answer my calls or e-mails. I wasn’t basking. I was brooding. I had spent the night with the unanswered question I had posed to Marc Courier, and no matter which way I considered it, things didn’t add up. What was Courier doing there? What was the great reward for such a large risk? Was it Rachel? The abduction and murder of a federal agent would certainly place McGinnis and Courier in the upper pantheon of killers whose deadly lore made them household names. But was that what they wanted? There had been no indication that these two were interested in harnessing public attention. They had carefully planned and camouflaged their murders. The attempt to abduct Rachel did not fit with the history leading up to it. And so there had to be another reason.
I started to look at it from another angle. I thought about what would have happened if I had gone to Los Angeles and Courier had been successful in grabbing Rachel and getting her out of the hotel.
It seemed likely to me that the abduction would have been discovered shortly after it occurred, when the room service waiter did not report back to the kitchen. I estimated that within an hour the hotel would have been a hive of activity. The FBI would have swarmed the hotel and the area, knocked on every door and turned over every rock in an attempt to find and rescue one of their own. But by then Courier would have been long gone.
It was clear the abduction would have drawn the bureau in and caused a massive distraction from its investigation of McGinnis and Courier. But it was also clear that this would be only a temporary shift. My guess was that before noon the next day, agents would be coming in by the planeload in a federal show of might and determination. This would allow them to overcome any distraction and put even more pressure on the investigation, all the while maintaining a suffocating effort to find Rachel.
The more I thought about it, the more I wished I’d given Courier the chance to answer that last question: Why didn’t you run?
I didn’t have the answer and it was too late to get it directly from the source. So I kept working it around in my head until it was all there was to think about.
“Jack?”
I looked over the wall of my cubicle and saw Molly Robards, the secretary to the assistant managing editor.
“Yes?”
“You’re not answering your phone and your e-mail box is full.”
“Yeah, I’m getting too many-is that a problem?”
“Mr. Kramer would like to see you.”
“Oh, okay.”
I didn’t make a move but neither did she. It was clear she had been sent to retrieve me. I finally pushed my chair back and got up.
Kramer was waiting for me with a big, phony smile on his face. I had a feeling that whatever he was about to tell me was not his idea. I took this as a good sign, since his ideas were seldom good ones.
“Jack, sit down.”
I did. He straightened things up on his desk before proceeding.
“Well, I’ve got some good news for you.”
He gave me the smile again. The same one he’d had on when he told me I was out.
“Really?”
“We’ve decided to withdraw your termination plan.”
“What’s that mean? I’m not laid off?”
“Exactly.”
“What about my pay and benefits?”
“Nothing’s changed. Same old same old.”
It was just like Rachel getting her badge back. I felt a trill of excitement but then reality hit home.
“So what’s that mean, you lay somebody else off instead of me?”
Kramer cleared his throat.
“Jack, I’m not going to lie to you. Our objective was to drop one hundred slots in editorial by June first. You were number ninety-nine-it was that close.”
“So I keep my job and somebody else gets the ax.”
“Angela Cook will be the ninety-ninth slot. We won’t be replacing her.”
“That’s convenient. Who is the big one hundred?”
I swiveled in the chair and looked out through the glass at the newsroom.
“Bernard? GoGo? Collins-”
Kramer cut me off.
“Jack, I can’t discuss that with you.”
I turned back to him.
“But somebody else is about to get the hook because I got to stay. What happens after this story winds down? Will you call me back in here and can me all over again?”
“We’re not expecting another involuntary reduction in force. The new owner has made it-”
“What about the next new owner? And the one after that?”
“Look, I didn’t bring you in here so you could preach to me. The news business is undergoing serious changes. It’s a life-and-death struggle. The question is, do you want to keep your job or not? I’m offering it to you.”