He reached into his sleeve and pulled down the cuff of his dress shirt to exactly a quarter inch below the hem of the jacket.
“The Colonel was a good friend of mine. I’m going to find whoever killed him and blow his or her brains out. From what I’ve heard, the only thing you’ve been capable of killing over the past few months is brain cells. But that isn’t a viable alibi. Where were you last week ago?”
I didn’t appreciate the cheap shot, but he had the home-field advantage. One thing was for sure — if I ever caught him on neutral ground, he’d get a verbal beating he wouldn’t soon forget.
“I was in Mexico City, working on a case.”
“Can anyone verify that you were there?”
I’d been afraid it would come to this. “Probably not.”
“Who hired you?”
This wasn’t going to sound good. “I don’t know. I was set up. When I got back, my client had pulled a disappearing act.”
The commissioner stared at me for some time, an incredulous expression on his face.
“You’re either a bigger idiot, or a lot more clever than everyone thinks. Your story is too unbelievably stupid to be fabricated.” Drysdale shook his head. “Either way, I’ve got you dead to rights for breaking and entering, as well as tampering with a crime scene.
And, while I can’t prove it, a jury could probably be convinced that you threw the rock into the store window. Put all the charges together with the Colonel’s appointment book and the bad blood between the two of you, and I’ve got a reasonable body of circumstantial evidence.”
Drysdale said it like he actually believed it. I wasn’t about to say anything, but I suspected that he’d have a hard time convicting me on even one of the charges.
Unfortunately, the cop was probably betting I couldn’t make bail, and that would allow him to detain me until my court date, which he could push back indefinitely. I had one blind card in the hole, and it was time to play it.
“I found something at the Colonel’s office.”
Drysdale’s cool façade lapsed for a split second. He leaned forward and folded his hands on the desk. “I’m listening.”
“The Colonel had a surveillance camera set up in his office.”
The commissioner sat back in his chair, a smirk on his face. “You’re lying.”
I shook my head, mirroring the smirk. “That’d be a pretty stupid thing to lie about, don’t you think? There was a secret chamber through the side of the coat closet. There was videodisc recorder inside, and I took the last disc out of it.”
Drysdale didn’t want to believe me, but I had his attention. “Where’s the disc?”
“Drop the charges, and I’ll tell you.”
“You’re in no position to barter, Murphy. Where the hell is the disc?”
Anyone but Drysdale would’ve been willing to bargain. All I could do at this point was tell him where it was and hope it panned out. “It’s with my personal effects. In a Gordon Lightfoot CD case.”
Keeping his eyes trained on me, Drysdale activated his vid-phone and requested that the envelope with my things in it be brought to his office. After he disconnected, he raised a finger. “This better be on the level. If you’re jerking me around, you’d better have someone send you a lifetime supply of soap-on-a-rope.”
We waited in silence until the young nazi entered the room and handed a large manila envelope to Drysdale. The commissioner removed the disc and stood up. Crossing to a side table, he inserted it into a videodisc player and turned it on. Drysdale pulled a chair to the table and sat down, giving me a clear view over his shoulder.
The monitor flickered, and then a view of the Colonel’s empty office appeared on-screen. In the lower right corner was a time and date display. It was 10:15 A.M., December 1. The Colonel stepped into the picture from the direction of the coat closet.
He walked through, then reappeared a moment later with a cup of coffee in hand.
Drysdale fast-forwarded for a few seconds until we saw the Colonel welcome a middle-aged woman into his office. Drysdale turned up the volume, and I could hear the Colonel discussing a job.
Drysdale resumed scanning. The Colonel stayed in his office for the remainder of the morning and then had another visitor around 12:45. He left after the second appointment, and the office was deserted throughout the afternoon. The empty office grew steadily darker as the image fast-forwarded. The commissioner glanced at me over his shoulder. He seemed impatient. It didn’t appear that this was going to do me any good.
The image slowed to real time when the office lights came on and the Colonel reappeared. Behind his desk, he put on his jacket and tightened his necktie, then sat down. It looked as though he was expecting someone. Drysdale fast-forwarded until the Colonel rose from his seat and crossed the room, out of camera range. He returned a moment later, exchanging pleas-antries with a slightly built, dark-haired man, who was wearing a long overcoat and carrying a valise. The Colonel gestured toward a chair on the near side of the desk and started walking around the desk with his back to the man.
He seemed to be on his guard, but it didn’t matter. With a lightening-quick move, the stranger whipped something out of his overcoat and brought it down viciously on the back of the Colonel’s head. The sickening thud was clearly audible and made me wince involuntarily. As the Colonel hit the floor, the other man pounced and slapped a pair of handcuffs on him. Then, with surprising strength, the stranger pulled the Colonel around the desk and into the chair where the Colonel had been sitting seconds before.
Drysdale was leaning forward, and I moved a step closer. We watched as the unconscious Colonel was secured to the chair. His captor was wearing delicate-looking gold spectacles and had a jet-black mustache too large for his face. His skin was dark -
he looked like he might be Middle Eastern, though he could have been wearing makeup and a false mustache for all I knew. Other than his complexion and facial hair, he looked nondescript, average. His would be a difficult face to identify. One thing was certain, though — he was much too short to be the man who’d posed as the countess’s butler.
Within thirty seconds, the dark-haired man had the Colonel thoroughly fastened to the chair. There hadn’t been one wasted movement — this guy was obviously a professional.
He lifted the Colonel’s rag-doll head and waved what appeared to be smelling salts under his nose. With a jerk, the Colonel’s head snapped back, eyes blinking wildly.
The dark-haired man turned calmly to the Colonel, who was shaking his head, trying to clear away the cobwebs. Almost breezily, the man removed a small silver case and extracted a cigarette. As he methodically lit what I presumed was a now-familiar French cigarette, he spoke softly to the Colonel, too softly for me to make out the words. After a moment, the Colonel looked up. “I know who you are. I’m just wondering what took you so long.”
The words were clear, but the voice sounded far away. I couldn’t catch what the stranger said in reply, but he went on speaking for some time. The Colonel moved slightly, testing how securely he was tied down. It was hopeless. He wasn’t going to escape.
“You and whoever you’re working for can kiss my ass.”
In a blur, the interrogator slashed his hands across the Colonel’s face. After several seconds, a red line appeared on the Colonel’s cheek, and blood began to seep out of the wound. The Colonel stared back defiantly. “You might as well go ahead and kill me. I haven’t got anything to say to you.”
The soft voice continued, now more menacing. The Colonel interrupted with a spiteful laugh. Again, the attacker lashed out, and the Colonel began to bleed from both sides of his face. He continued to smile as blood ran into the corners of his mouth. “You got the wrong guy. How should I know anything about the Winter Chip. Why don’t you check with someone at CAPRICORN? It’s their chip. Oh, I forgot. You blew the place up.