Blowout (10 page)

H
OOVER
B
UILDING

“I'
D LIKE TO KNOW
why the hell you're heading this investigation, Savich.”

Reassured by Frank's show of consistency, Savich said easily, “I'm not. Director Mueller and DAD Jimmy Maitland are. I'm lower down on the chain.”

Neither Director Mueller nor Jimmy Maitland was there as yet, so Frank Halley could vent. Frank had collared Savich the moment he and Sherlock had walked into the large conference room on the fifth floor, blocked him off from the other fifty or so agents who stood around in groups. The large room was buzzing with conversation before the meeting, about the dozens of interviews that had already been conducted during the past nine hours, the newest available reports.

“Yeah, so you say, but not as low as the rest of us. You're the one handing out interview assignments, speaking to Officer
Biggs, coordinating the whole direction we take. Why have I been passed over?”

No, Sherlock thought, there was no shortage of egos and turf, not in any organization in the world. Given the sheer size and bureaucracy of the FBI, they weren't doing so badly, really. She patted Frank's arm. “Dillon's doing the major interviews because he's the best, Frank. If you've got a problem, take it up with the director. Otherwise, I'd suggest you get a grip and pull your nose back in joint, or I'll have to haul you down to the gym and wipe up the mat with you.”

It was hard, even for a veteran of nearly twenty years, to be mad enough to want to tear a strip off Sherlock. He grinned down at her, this small faerie with her marvelous curling red hair, and he just couldn't help himself. “You're half my size. You really think you could take me?”

“Curious, are you? We'll have to give it a try sometime.” She gave him her brightest smile. “Now, listen up. You really want to do all the paperwork, interface with the media? That's nuts. You're vital to this investigation, Frank. Get in the field, that's where you're best, that's where the action is. It's where we're going to try to spend most of our time.”

But he still couldn't let go of it. “It isn't right, Savich. It should have come directly down to me, I'm the next in command. This should be my deal.”

Sherlock, who'd turned to speak to another agent, said from just behind Frank's left elbow, “It's whoever's deal Director Mueller wants it to be. You've got to hang it up, Frank.”

Frank waved his hand. “Boy, the first thing I'd do is wipe up the floor with Marshal Halpern at the Supreme Court. Actually
when I was interviewing her, it was hard not to do a slam dunk with her head. Can you imagine? One of her own police—that idiot Officer Biggs—going out for a smoke, letting himself get taken down like that, like an agent right out of the academy.”

“That's the truth,” Sherlock said and imagined that Marshal Halpern was probably so defensive when Frank went after her that he didn't get anything useful out of her.

“Ah,” Savich said. “Here are the bosses. Let's get ourselves seated. We've got lots to talk about, lots of plans to make.”

Frank didn't want to sit down, didn't want to do anything but break both of Savich's arms, but in a moment of stark clarity, he knew he'd have to fall into line. He'd been raised in the Bureau to do just that. But it was very hard for him this time. A Justice murdered in the Supreme Court library, it was an incredible thing to happen. The Supreme Court, that prissy Greek temple sitting on the crest of Capitol Hill, was supposedly one of the most easily secured buildings in Washington. Here he was, Special Agent Frank Halley, one of the top guys in the Criminal Investigation Division, and yet Director Mueller had placed Savich, with his dinky computer-based unit, over him.

“Director Mueller.”

Everyone settled in and listened to the FBI director fill them in on what had been happening in the executive wing, Congress, and the media. He closed by saying, “We have the resources to find the person or persons responsible for this heinous crime. I have confidence in all of you. We are the best police force in the world.” He looked around the room for questions, then turned the meeting over to Jimmy Maitland. Maitland was brief, reminding them how critical this investigation was to the nation and the Bureau.
“Justice Califano was murdered right under the noses of the Supreme Court Police. Fair or unfair, it doesn't matter, we're on the hot seat with them since we're Federal, too. All of us are painted with the same brush. Let's get this nailed down, boys and girls.” He introduced Savich as the person who would be heading up the operation.

Savich walked to the lectern and adjusted the mike, since he was about five inches taller than his boss.

He looked out over the fifty-odd agents, the representatives from the CIA, the Secret Service, and Homeland Security. “Everyone's greatest fear is that Justice Califano's murder might have been committed by a terrorist. Both Homeland Security and the CIA are covering every aspect of this possibility, calling on every government to provide any intelligence that might point in that direction.

“However, we're all inclined to think this wasn't a terrorist act for several reasons. There has been no such intelligence, no hint that any group was thinking along these lines. No terrorist organization has taken credit. The murder does not fit the profile of any known foreign-based terrorist group. While it's true that a home-grown terrorist, such as a political extremist or a deranged individual, could be expected to go for a high-profile assassination, you have to wonder why such a murderer would not have gone after the Chief Justice himself. That would have created even more chaos, more publicity, worldwide.

“So why would a terrorist of any sort select Justice Califano to murder? What kind of statement was he hoping to make? Justice Califano's opinions were considered mostly centrist. Well, let me qualify that. Like some of the other Justices, his opinions could go
to the right or the left, depending on the specific issue. For example, he was basically conservative on affirmative action, but he voted for the most sweeping definition of sexual harassment in the workplace. But there are Justices who are far more polarized on issues. Justice Califano doesn't fit the bill as a prime target.

“Don't forget, the murderer followed an extremely high-risk script. He actually struck down a Supreme Court police officer, he took his uniform and entered the building itself. Even in some fundamentalist mind, this was a huge risk. And then garroting Justice Califano and slipping away? That was not the act of a bomber, or a shooter in a crowd. That was the act of a single man, done in a very personal way.

“The chances are greater, as many of you have already concluded, that this murder was personal. It was up close and hands-on. Revenge, possibly. Justice Stewart Califano served as a DA, an Assistant Attorney General, and the Attorney General before he was named an Associate Justice of the New York Court of Appeals in 1979. He prosecuted drug dealers, mobsters—people who could have spent twenty years in jail planning to murder him. We will scour every high-profile case he was involved in throughout those years.

“At the same time, we can't afford to take the chance that the murder wasn't the work of terrorists or a madman for the simple reason that Justice Califano's murder could be the opening assault with more to come. Extra security has been provided, not only to the Justices, but to a number of elected federal officials as well. As you know, federal marshals accompany the Justices only when they travel. They have temporarily extended their protection to twenty-four/seven.

“All of you, many through painful experience, know that the media will be following all these directives right along with us. When they find out which of you are involved in the case, they'll hound you. We will expect your usual professionalism. You will refer all press questions to DAD Maitland for official comment.

“We've got all of Justice Califano's phone logs and contacts, his computers, both from his chambers and his home, and those of his law clerks and secretaries. We have a list of all pending cases that the Supreme Court will be hearing, also cases handed down in the past years in which Justice Califano played a critical role in reversing decisions such as those involving race, abortion, individual death penalty cases, and the like. The list is daunting, but we'll take them on.

“Investigation of the crime scene itself and preliminary interviews are already ongoing, as you know. We have divided you into twelve teams of four agents each. Ollie Hamish will be posting your names and handing out assignments to each team, hoping to key in to the strengths and experience of the members. We are fortunate to have the teams made up of agents from a wide variety of FBI divisions and units assigned to us. It is true what Director Mueller said. We are the best police force and intelligence community in the world, and we will solve this and do it quickly.

“By the way, you will have a unique resource available to you from my own unit that is new to many of you. We have developed a number of computer programs that allow us to combine data-mining capability with an artificial intelligence engine—we call the program MAX, after my laptop. We have found it extremely
useful to us, though we haven't made it available this broadly before, or in a case of this importance.

“I've assigned agents Drucker, Bruner, and Hart to instruct you about its capabilities. Some of you will be asked to work with them on this project. All of you will have the benefit of any information MAX provides. If you haven't worked with these agents before, I'll tell you they're excellent detail people. They share with MAX an uncanny ability to help you when everything starts to look like chaos.”

Savich paused. “Now, before we split up, I'd like to hear ideas about directions any of you want to take that we haven't covered.”

The agents were eager for open discussion, which quickly turned to the crime scene photos Savich had tacked to a large bulletin board. The meeting continued long after Maitland had left. Pots of coffee were consumed, and the snow blanketed the windows despite the warmth of the room. When sandwiches and pizzas were delivered from the cafeteria upstairs, everyone took a break.

Frank Halley saw Savich talking to a man he didn't recognize, a big guy, a sharp dresser, standing near the door with his arms crossed over his chest. He was dressed in black slacks, white shirt, black tie, and black leather jacket. He looked like a smart-ass wiseguy with that hard face of his. Frank walked over and put himself in the guy's face.

“And who the hell are you?”

“I'm Detective Benjamin Raven, Metro Police.”

Frank turned on Savich. “What's a local cop doing here, Savich?”

“It so happens that the Supreme Court Building is in the
Washington, D.C., jurisdiction, Frank. We're leading the investigation, but Detective Raven is our local liaison with the police commissioner at the Henry J. Daly Building.”

Frank gave Ben one final look, then took himself off to the table where there were still two unopened pizza boxes.

Savich said, “Don't mind Frank. He's a good agent, just protective of the Bureau and somewhat territorial. Now, how did you manage to ditch Ms. Markham? I would have sworn she'd have been hanging on to your coattails to get herself in here.”

Ben ran his fingers through his thick hair, causing it to stand on end. “I didn't ditch her until she was safe back at the house in Colfax. I'm lucky she didn't follow me in. I'll bet she could have talked her way past the guards.”

Savich laughed. “She seems like a pistol, Ben, smart and insightful.”

“Well, maybe. Who knows? All I know so far is that she's a pain in the butt. She wanted to smack a reporter at Justice Wallace's house. Can you believe that? She's one of them.”

“Yes, well, don't forget, Justice Califano was her stepfather, and the shoe's on the other foot now. But the thing is, she's on the inside. Use her, get her talking. I'll bet she knows things she can't even put together right now, things that are in her brain waiting for you to get them out.”

“Actually, she's already started to earn her keep.” And then he told Savich about Justice Sumner Wallace hitting on Margaret Califano. “Doesn't that boggle the mind? The guy's a grandfather.”

Savich said, “This is going to take some thought. You're right, Callie did good, give her a medal. I guess after she told you that, you can trust her not to feed stuff to the
Post.
”

“Okay, yeah, so she's a straight shooter, at least so far. Like I
said, I dropped her off at the Kettering home before I drove back in. Nearly landed myself in a ditch a couple of times. The roads are a mess.”

“The snow's supposed to lighten up tonight, be gone by tomorrow. Hopefully it won't freeze, the ice would really make it tough for us to get around.”

“At least the pizza's pretty good here.”

“Yeah, agents are often stuck here for meals during an investigation, so the cafeteria keeps the food coming, about anything you like. The only section Sherlock doesn't approve of is the Mexican wagon. Ah, I see Agent Halley looking over here at you again. He's not a happy camper since he thinks Director Mueller should have appointed him to run the show, so ignore the attitude.”