Six Hours to the Grand Jury
Wesley answered the phone on the second ring. It was eight o’clock in the morning and Lenny was calling.
“I’m so glad I got you,” Lenny said. “The police picked me up yesterday.”
“For what?”
“More questions.”
“The same officers?” Wesley asked.
“Those were ATF agents. This was a lady detective and an FBI agent.”
“Describe them.”
“The woman’s tall, slender, and really pretty. The man’s about six feet and blond, maybe sandy-haired.”
Wesley’s hands tightened at his description of Elizabeth. He’d given her every chance, but she was still with other men. Men, with their pawing hands and filthy minds. What did Father Mike say? Once the devil grabs hold of your soul, you’ll pay a dear price to get it back. Fire might cleanse and burn the stain away, but some part always remains. How? How? How could she continue this after all he’d done for her? Betrayal had to be the worst sin of all.
“Rick, are you there?”
“What? Sure. I was just thinking.”
“I have to tell you something else. Please don’t be mad.”
“I won’t. Go ahead.”
“They told me your real name is Thomas Courtney and you’re a contract killer. They said you killed the other man who was flying the airplane. They really scared me.”
Wesley laughed. “A contract killer? That’s a good one.”
“They even showed me a photo of you. At least I think it was you. It looked like you were younger then.”
“There are a lot of photos of me on the Internet,” Wesley said. “Remember, I told you the competition was awfully cut-throat and they’d try to screw the picture up if they could.”
“I remember.”
“Let me ask you this, who provides security for the equipment we use?”
“The cops, I guess,” Lenny said.
“Well, it’s the same for the other company. They want to get their film in the can first. If they stop us even by a few weeks, they win.”
“I never thought of it that way,” Lenny said.
“There you go. Was that fellow Jack Kale there when they questioned you?”
“I met him, but he didn’t say much.”
“Okay. Where are you now?” Wesley asked.
“At the park.”
“Is anyone else with you?”
“There are a couple people around, but no one’s paying much attention to me.”
Wesley adjusted the lens of his scope and scanned the area. It took only a moment to spot the blond agent and three marksmen in camouflage hiding in the bushes and in the trees. Two U.S. Marshals were “casually” hanging out by the safehouse, smoking cigarettes, their weapons carefully concealed behind the trees.
What a joke.
Kale was the one he wanted. Cut off the head, Father Mike said, and the body dies. He was furious with Lenny for betraying him. He could see the little man on the phone. A moment ago, he’d been talking to the FBI agent. All alone, was he? Liar! That Wesley had even thought they could be friends made him sick.
He looked harder at the house. There she was, passing by the window, Elizabeth, the ultimate traitor. He was about to show them how safe that house was.
“Rick?”
“Yes, Lenny?”
“I thought you hung up. Are you angry?”
“Not at all. You did right by telling me. Just crank up the drone and let her fly. I’ll pick you up for dinner tonight. Studio’s treat.”
*
Jack studied the drone on the ground, six arms each with an engine in a starburst pattern. The oval control unit at the center looked like a spider’s body. The previous evening Stan Kaufman had removed the RDX rendering the machine harmless. The switch Courtney used was clever. It contained a mercury trigger that would immediately activate if the wrong wire was clipped. Its GPS capability could put it within ten feet of its target.
One by one, Lenny Walpole started the engines and then moved to his precious laptop to initiate the flight sequence.
*
Fifteen hundred yards away Wesley watched the craft lift into the air and hover above the ground like something out of Star Wars. The three agents kept themselves well in the background. Having used his cellphone, he knew he only had a few minutes before they closed in on him. Even if they managed to fix his position, he’d be long gone by the time they arrived. Still enough time to do what he had to.
I told you, boy-o; the man was not to be trusted.
You did, Father.
I’m sorry he turned out to be a disappointment. I’d have spared you that if I could.
It’s all right.
Ah, but I know there’s some pain involved.
I’ll get over it. Elizabeth is the one that hurts the most. Once a harlot, always a harlot, I suppose.
Now, now. Judge not, lest ye shall be judged yourself.
I understand.
About time to put an end to this, wouldn’t you say, son?
Yes . . . about time.
Wesley took one final look at Lenny as his finger moved to the button on his cellphone, the one that would send the signal. He had no room in his life for liars and Judases. Closing his eyes, he took a breath and pressed the button.
The explosion was muffled. More muffled than it should have been. He grabbed his spotting scope and saw Lenny crouched behind one of the unmarked cruisers. Impossible!
The drone was still hovering in the air twenty feet above the agents’ heads. Kale was no longer watching it. He was scanning the trees looking for him. He could see those eyes searching.
Time to take our leave, boy-o. They’re onto us.
I don’t understand.
Figured out the plan, son. That Kale’s a smart one. Out of here now.
I can still take a shot. Elizabeth has to pay.
There’ll be other opportunities. He who fights and runs away lives to fight another day. Move it. Move it.
*
Todd Milner turned to Jack Kale. When the RDX exploded inside the bomb-proof container, destroying Lenny’s laptop, the little man’s shoulders slumped. He looked terrified and totally defeated.
“How did you know?” Milner asked.
“What we recovered at the photographer’s house showed bits of C-6, but there were also traces of high impact gray plastic, the same color as Walpole’s computer. When we checked the screws under a microscope, it was obvious they’d been removed. In addition, the case had some pry marks indicating it had been opened. Because Courtney gave Lenny the laptop, I assumed that’s where the main explosive was hidden. It was clever because there was nothing when the ATF examined it. The fact that it was there now meant he planned to force Lenny out and cover his tracks.”
“So he was just trying to kill Walpole?”
“You said it yourself. Lenny knows what he looks like, just as Peter Shackelford did. If he could take us out in the process, so much the better for him.”
“It looks like the funeral’s in play now.”
“I think we have to assume it is.”
“Solid stuff, buddy,” Milner said, squeezing Jack’s shoulder. “By the way, where is Beth now? I haven’t seen her around this morning.”
“Running down some leads. A police officer who looks like her volunteered to walk past the window hoping it would give our guys some time to pin Courtney down.”
“Bright,” Milner said. “I take it Dr. Lawrence isn’t here either.”
“No, she’s home getting dressed. She left at five AM.”
*
The name of the game was cover your ass. Carmine Donofrio, who’d been monitoring the situation, was livid. He was convinced the FBI had responded too slowly to establish a fix on the killer’s cellphone, allowing him to slip through their fingers again. At the press conference, Sally Yellen, Atlanta’s SAC, implied the U.S. Marshals had been remiss. When interviewed, the Marshal Service declined official comment other than to state their men were on alert and in position at all times, but did not see any threats in the form of snipers. Wayne Ruckhouser, vice chairman of the Senate oversight subcommittee, concluded the matter had been improperly handled from the outset and urged Janet Newton to change the lead investigator.
*
Todd Milner reluctantly agreed to take over and indicated he would personally stay with Rachel Lawrence at the safehouse until after her grand jury appearance. Jack received the news of his dismissal in an e-mail from the deputy director.
He had just pulled into the church parking lot where George Lawrence’s funeral was to be held. There were so many cars, he was forced to park in the last row. Dr. Lawrence had been a popular and well-liked man.
Working in combination with the APD, Milner had erected a temporary tent-like enclosure around the front entrance that extended all the way to the parking lot. It allowed the limousine carrying Rachel and her family to pull up and unload, taking away any chance for a sniper to get a clear shot at her. Jack nodded his approval and wondered what sort of arrangements Milner would have in place at the cemetery.
The church was huge. He had seen it a number of times rising majestically on a hill alongside I-75, but had never been inside. Calling it a cathedral wouldn’t have been out of place. On the rooftop were two marshals armed with rifles. A line of mourners, there to pay their respects, had formed and were waiting to pass through a metal detector, which Milner had also installed. Even so, he doubted the church could hold everyone. Jack took his place at the end. After a minute, he saw the rumpled form of Dan Pappas striding across the lawn toward him. The big detective motioned for Jack to join him.
“Never saw you in a suit before,” Pappas said.
“That’s what you got me out of line to tell me?”
“About an hour ago the uniforms pulled a man’s body out of the Chattahoochee.”
“And?”
“He had no hands and no face.”
“Unusual,” Jack said.
“Unusual?”
“Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? Do we know how long he’d been in the water?”
“A few hours, according to the ME. The body was just letting go of rigor.”
“Interesting,” Jack said.
“Anyone ever tell you you have an amazing capacity for the understatement? Interesting? That’s the best you can come up with?”
“You have a better word?”
“No. That’s why I’m here,” Pappas said.
“I’m not on the case anymore, Dan. I was fired, or hadn’t you heard?”
“I did and it’s bullshit. They’re looking for a scapegoat.”
Jack smiled. “I know. Describe the body for me.”
“Five foot nine and around a hundred seventy-five pounds, brown hair, gray-blue eyes. Pretty good shape, except for the no hands and no face part.”
“Cause of death?”
“Two bullets to the head at close range. The ME said stippling and powder burns were visible.”
“Were his teeth intact?”
Pappas pulled the report out of his pocket and glanced through it. “Looks that way. Getting an ID will take time, and we’d need comparison records. You think this is related?”
“Hard to believe it isn’t considering its similarity to the fire marshal’s condition. We need to make sure though.”
“How can we do that? The guy’s ID-proof.”
“Maybe not,” Jack said. “I saw Richard Sklar going inside a minute ago. He used to teach at Emory’s dental school, if I remember correctly. Let’s ask him to take a look at the body. Was the vic dressed?”
“Yeah. The clothes are on the way to the crime lab. Nelda said she’ll look at them later.”
Jack checked his watch. “Maybe you can convince her to do it right away.”