Authors: David Baldacci
“The smell.”
“What did it smell like?” said Roy.
“Hard to say.” He stroked the wattles on his neck. “Not like me. Real clean.”
Roy looked at Mace. “It did smell really antiseptic in there. Like a hospital.”
“Well, it is like a clinic.”
“Yeah, but that’s hardly concrete evidence for a court.”
“Like you were expecting that from him?” Mace said in a low voice.
They left the Captain and returned to Altman’s guesthouse, where Roy began formulating his strategy for the next morning’s hearing.
“It’ll be quick and perfunctory,” he said. “I’ll plead him not guilty. Mona will ask for detainment and then get an indictment probably pretty fast. Then the real work begins. When do you leave for Newark?”
“Seven o’clock Acela train. Gets into Newark around 9:30. The law office is about twenty minutes by cab from the station. I can talk to them, hopefully get somewhere, grab the train back, and be here tomorrow afternoon.”
“I can call you with the details of the hearing.”
“You going to ask for him to be released on personal recog?”
“No. He has a roof and three squares a day in jail.”
“And if somebody is setting him up, he’s safer in there.”
“Yeah, maybe we should get arrested too.”
They both looked up when a ball bounced down the stairs and rolled to a stop next to Roy’s foot. He palmed it. The next moment Tyler came running down the stairs looking frantically around. When he saw the ball in Roy’s hand he darted over, his arms spread wide.
“Ty, what you doing up this late?”
Alisha had appeared at the top of the stairs as soon as Roy handed the ball to her son. She said, “I’m sorry ’bout that. The boy just won’t go to sleep. He was bouncing the ball and it got away from him.”
Mace tapped Roy on the thigh. “This kid was making layups and dribbling the ball like a real pro, weren’t you, Ty?”
The little boy looked at her and his mouth opened, his eyes blinking rapidly.
Mace patted Roy on the shoulder. “This guy here played college basketball. He could’ve played in the NBA if he could’ve jumped a little higher.”
“Among other things,” Roy added.
“You know, you’ve been doing the legal thing all day, how about taking this big guy over to the gym and let him show you what he can do. Give you a chance to clear your head.” She added, “Ty, you want to show Mr. Roy here some of your moves?”
Roy said, “I really should finish—”
But when Ty reached out and gripped Roy’s hand tightly, his little mouth still wide open, Roy quickly stood. “Okay, Ty, I’m a little rusty, so take it easy on me, all right?”
“Can I watch?” asked Alisha.
“I was going to suggest it,” said Mace.
Roy glanced back at her. “You want to come? Maybe we can do our HORSE tricks for him.”
“You go on. I’m gonna hit the sack. I’ll have to leave here early to get the train.”
When the three of them disappeared out the door, Mace gave them a couple of minutes to get to the gym and then she punched 411, got the number, and made the call.
“Doc, it’s Mace Perry. I know it’s late, but you got time to meet?”
Lowell Cassell was at his row house in southeast D.C., but he agreed to meet Mace at a coffee shop near Union Station. Mace thanked him, clicked off, grabbed her leather jacket, and ran for the Ducati.
“An ordinary citizen who I believe is assisting in the defense of an alleged murderer who is right now cooling his heels in a D.C. lockup.” When she looked surprised that he knew this, Cassell added, “The water-cooler gossip does reach the morgue, you know.”
“Well, I wouldn’t really call what I’m doing assisting. And I really did want a nice cup of coffee. I used to come here a lot when I was a cop. Open twenty-four hours. We’d pop in here after hoodling for a bit if the radio was quiet.”
Cassell leaned forward and spoke in a low voice even though there wasn’t another customer in the place. “I really went out on a limb by allowing you access to my files. In fact, if that comes out, my career is over.”
“It will never come out, Lowell. I will die before that comes out.”
He sat back, apparently satisfied. “I think you would.”
“So why did you do it then?”
“The files?” He spooned more sugar into his cup. “Because I like you.”
“Not a good enough answer for a possible career-ender.”
“Blunt, just like your sister.”
“I like to think I’m more diplomatic.”
“I understand that Mona Danforth is personally trying this case?”
“That’s right. I’m sure it’s only for altruistic reasons.”
Cassell took a sip of his coffee and picked at a pastry on his plate.
“Come on, Doc. I know the sperm was pure, no yolk stuff.”
“That’s right. I assumed you were the reason Beth had me check that.”
“The guy said someone paid him two hundred bucks to do it in a cup.”
“The homeless vet?”
“Yep,” answered Mace.
“You think he just made that up? I mean, sperm in a dead woman is pretty convincing evidence.”
“I agree, and no, I don’t think he made it up. The guy spends most of his time thinking about Twinkies.”
“Circumstantial is also pretty strong.”
“Right again. Our work is cut out for us.”
“So you
are
working this one?” said Cassell.
“If I can’t be a cop, you know.”
“I know. Solve a big one.”
“Only thing keeping me going.”
“What happened to you was an injustice, Mace.”
“Thirty percent.”
“What?
“That’s roughly the percentage of cops at MPD who think I was bad.”
“That means seventy percent think you were railroaded. A politician would love to have those approval ratings.”
“Well, for me anything less than a hundred sucks.”
“You can’t live your life trying to make people understand something they don’t want to understand.”
“I’m not doing it for them. I’m doing it for me.”
“I guess I can see that.”
She tapped his hand with her finger. “So why did you agree to meet with me tonight?”
“To tell the truth, I’m not sure.”
“Something’s bugging you, isn’t it?”
“The sperm.”
“But it wasn’t yolked.”
“Planted sperm.”
“Okay.”
“It’s happened before, but not very often. In fact, it’s about as rare a forensic misdirection as there is, but not impossible. But the thing is, if you do it and do it well, a conviction is almost inevitable.”
“So you think it
was
planted?”
“The cervix.”
“Come again?”
“The semen was high up on the cervix. I mean really high. I’ve read Dockery’s arrest file. Nearly sixty. Living on the streets for years. I actually saw him in the jail. I haven’t examined him, of course, but to my doctor’s eye he has many serious health problems. Arteriosclerosis almost certainly, high blood pressure, probable diabetes, basal cell carcinomas on his face. He’s at high risk for stroke, aneurysm, and various cancers. And I would bet a thousand dollars that he has an enlarged prostate and possibly even cancer there.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that for him to be able to even get it up is a miracle, much less rape the woman and shoot his semen that far up in her cervix.”
“Well, he said he did it in a cup.”
“A cup is not a woman’s vagina. Did he say how long it took him to do it in the cup?”
“He said it took some time. He also told us they gave him a girlie magazine.”
“I would bet it took him a long time even with the girlie magazine.”
“That could be important, because Tolliver wasn’t at the office more than two hours before she was killed. And chances are it was a lot less than that. Maybe thirty minutes to an hour.”
“No problem for an eighteen-year-old. But if a guy in Dockery’s condition can get an erection in less than four hours, if at all, you can give me what he’s taking. Do you know why the pharmaceutical companies make billions of dollars off stuff like Viagra and Cialis?”
“Because older guys can’t get it up without help?”
“Exactly, especially for guys Dockery’s age. And keep in mind this is just between you and me. I won’t repeat this on the witness stand. You can get your own expert. Under the law my findings are an open book for the defendant’s counsel to use. But he has to draw his own conclusions and what I’ve said is just speculation. I really can’t form an opinion about it.”
“Understood. But speculate on one more thing. Do you think they might have given Dockery a pill to help him do it in the cup?”
“I wouldn’t bet against it.”
“Hopefully, he’ll remember when we ask him. He’s not that stellar on details. And they could’ve stuck it in a Twinkie. But how long would the sperm last in her? If Dockery is telling the truth, they had to get it from him, store it, transport it to the crime scene, and shoot it into her. Someone I talked to said the stuff breaks down after a while. That’s why they have to yolk it.”
“It does. The motility and other elements do degrade. The sample I examined hadn’t been there longer than seventy-two hours.”
Mace sat back. “How about less than twenty-four? Say he gave the sample on Sunday and she was killed on Monday?”
“No. Longer than that. At least three days.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’d stake my reputation on it.”
“That’s good enough for me.” She stood. “Thanks, Doc.”
“For what? I’m not sure I was very helpful.”
“No, I think you cleared up a lot. The only problem is, if what I’m thinking is right, I’ve got a ton of new questions that need answers.”
“I hope you get them.”
“Me too.”
A few minutes later Mace burned down the road. She wasn’t heading back to Abe Altman’s manse. She was heading to Georgetown. If she was right then there was a force behind all of this that scared her. In fact, it might just scare her right to death.
“Mahmud,” Burns began. “How are you, my friend?”
Mahmud studied Burns closely and then pulled the cab from the curb. He had spent most of his life in constant conflict with others, had lost both parents and two siblings to violent deaths. His parents had been betrayed by those they thought were friends. Therefore their son trusted no one. He had known desperate poverty and didn’t care for it. He had known what it was like to be powerless and cared for that even less. He carried bullet holes and bomb shrapnel in his body. He had been a fierce warrior for his cause. Yet he had come to realize that there were other ways to play the game that did not involve the risk of imminent death. And that there were other rewards to be had while one was still living.
In crisp English he said, “I am here. I never take that for granted.”
“I share that philosophy.”
“Keep your friends close but your enemies closer, Jarvis,” he said. “I think your country is finally learning the value of this. Isolation emboldens those who hate you. It allows them to paint a picture of your country to their fellow citizens, and it is never a pretty picture when they do.”
“Agreed, agreed,” Burns said hastily.
“But that is not what we need to discuss?”
“I wanted to make clear that the situation that has arisen is truly under control.”
Mahmud gave him a piercing look in the mirror. “That is good to hear. It was unfortunate, very unfortunate. How exactly did it happen?”
“We believe we’ve pieced together the sequence of events. It was a chain that should have been broken at numerous points along the line, but unfortunately was not. An inadvertent glimpse at a laptop screen on a flight back from Dubai started Diane Tolliver down the road that would eventually lead to her termination. From there she became ever more curious, comparing documents, making inquiries, and gathering information. Fortunately, she made the mistake of trusting someone. That’s how we became aware of the issue.”
“A close call, then.”
“The blame lies entirely on our side. But I didn’t want you to think that it would linger. Or that it will disrupt what we are trying to do. It will not. I give you my word.”
“Your word means a great deal. You too have sacrificed much for your country.”
“It was my honor and privilege.”
“I have stopped thinking about such things.”
“That saddens me.”
“It is actually uplifting to
me
.”
“The money, yes. I can see that. But we are doing the right thing too. It’s what we all want. My country in particular.”
“If it was what your leaders wanted, my friend, you and the director would not be doing all of this on your own.”
“We’re not alone, I can assure you. However, sometimes the leadership is unwilling on the record to take the steps necessary to achieve essential goals. But they would not begrudge us the opportunity to employ sufficient if unpopular methods.”
“Right. The less they know the better.”
“I would not put it exactly that way.”
“You talk of course about violent death; the execution of your own people if it jeopardizes those goals. Americans have always been reluctant in that regard. Frankly, I have always seen that as a weakness.”
“We are a civilized people, Mahmud.”
“Well, perhaps one day my people will be as unfamiliar with violent death as your people are, Jarvis. What a great thing that will be.”
“I hope to live to see that day.”
“I would have to say that your chances of doing so are far better than mine.”
“I hope you are wrong there.”
“Even if I’m not, so what? There will be others to take my place. For a people so certain that there will be an afterlife of paradise, you Americans value life too much. None of us are irreplaceable. Even if bin Laden dies, there will be others. That is the way the world works. That is what keeps you gainfully employed, correct?”
“I would happily retire if there would be no more bin Ladens, Mahmud.”
“Then you will never retire, my friend. If you require us to assist in ‘cleaning up’ this problem you will let me know?”
“I think I have the right people for the job.”
“So many have said and yet been wrong.” There was an edge to the Palestinian’s words that caused Burns to draw his gaze from the mirror where he’d been watching the man’s eyes and instead look out the window.
“I understand that your people have to survive. By any means possible.”
“They have nothing. This way they have something. The money cannot stop now. They have grown used to it. If you don’t pay, others will. Your leaders are very shortsighted in that regard. That is why we’ve had to go this route. Cash trumps all.”
“It won’t stop. I guarantee it.”
“That is good, because they do not love your country. But they can be bought. Anyone can be bought, it seems.” He paused and added bluntly, “Even me.”
“Enemies closer.”
“Allow no one to ever convince you otherwise.”
A few minutes later Burns left the cab and climbed into the back-seat of a waiting Town Car and turned to the woman sitting next to him. Mary Bard had discarded the jumpsuit and was dressed in much the same way as she had been when disposing of Karl Reiger and Don Hope.
“I appreciate your professionalism,” Burns said. “In a difficult assignment.”
Bard shrugged. “One assignment is much like another assignment. They vary only in degrees of complexity.”
“Moral as well as logistical?”
“I leave the moral debate to others. The logistical side is quite enough for me.”
“I can provide fresh orders for you if you require them,” Burns said, testing her.
“I have my orders. Your director has told me to assist you and only you in any way you require.”
“I must make a note to ask to have more people like you sent my way.”
“For that you will have to talk to my superiors in Moscow,” she said.
“I will.”
“So what do you wish me to do?”
“I need you to be on the watch for two people.” He showed her pictures of Roy Kingman and Mace Perry. She stared at them for a full minute.
“You can keep the photos,” he said.
“I don’t need them. They are now in my mind.”
“All right. We’re setting up perimeter defensive positions. But together with that I need to locate some bait, just in case.”
“I’m very good at finding bait.”
“I know that you are.”