Divine Fury (36 page)

“We’re still digging through stuff right now,” said Connors.
 
“I can’t tell you how many emails I’ve read in the last few days.
 
So, it’s not real clear yet.
 
We have to get to the bottom of it still.”

“And, here’s the big story.
 
The one I really need some help on.
 
Biggest for last,” she continued.
 
“There’s a guy on his way to blow away Harper.”

“What!
 
C’mon!
 
What are you saying?” said Lee.

“Yeah.
 
That’s right,” said Connors.
 
“Daggart had this thing going.
 
It was like he was collecting nut cases and then being their father confessor, or their Dear Abby, or whatever.
 
These were the people crazy enough to blow up abortion clinics and such.
 
And, we think one guy is on his way to do Harper.
 
Unfortunately, he’s the one guy who might be able to pull it off.
 
Ex-army.
 
Knows guns.
 
Knows explosives.
 
We think he killed a security guard to get some C-4.”

“Whoa!” said Lee.
 
“This is huge.”

“Yeah,” said Connors.
 
“And there are two big problems.
 
One for me and one for you.
 
Mine is that Harper won’t take precautions.
 
Nada.
 
And yours is that you can’t report this.”

“C’mon!
 
You must be kidding!” said Lee.

“No.
 
This has to be off the record,” said Connors.
 
“That’s what Harper wants.
 
It’s under the theory that if you report it, you encourage copycats.
 
At least to threaten it, if not actually try it.
 
And, you know, it could be that being in the press would just embolden this guy, make him feel like a martyr, create this stage for him.
 
It might make things worse.

“I don’t know about all that.
 
What I do know is that it’s Harper’s ass on the line.
 
If he wants it played this way, it’s his call.
 
At least, that’s the position the department is taking for now.”
        

“I’m desperate, Enzo,” Connors added.
 
“And not feeling too proud not to ask for help.
 
You’ve been looking into these guys – the church and all that – longer than anyone.
 
Maybe there is some other church connection here.
 
I don’t know.
 
If there is anything you can think of, any information, any lead to pursue…anything at all.
 
I need to know.
 
I need to find this son of a bitch!”
     

Chapter 46

 
“YOU LOOK LIKE shit,” said Ray Pilmann, looking at the bandages visible on Lee’s forearms and chin.

“Thanks, Ray,” said Lee.
 
“So do you.”

“Hey!” said Pilmann.
 
“What the fuck!
 
I’m trying to be a little sympathetic and all you do is…”

“Gentlemen!
 
Please!” said Carr.
 
She shook her head and buried her face in her hands for a moment.
 
“Just grow up.
 
Or, at least shut up…for a few minutes anyway.”

“I agree with Lorraine,” said Leonard Graham.
 
Graham, wearing a beige suit with a blue tie, was the 60-year-old executive editor of the News and it was unusual for him to leave his corner office and grace the newsroom conference room with his presence.
 

“Let’s cut to the chase,” said Carr.
 
“There are always death threats.
 
From every president to small-time politicians and even sports figures.”

“Right,” said Lee. “Hank Aaron got threats when he was breaking Babe Ruth’s home run record in the 70s.”

“Correct,” said Carr.
 
“And they typically don’t get reported, not even when they beef up security.
 
The exception is when someone is arrested.
 
Then, that gets covered.
 
And, I think the argument is that coverage just encourages more threats.
 
It gets attention which is really what these people want.”

“Okay,” said Lee.
 
“I don’t disagree.
 
But here you’ve got a guy who probably has already killed someone in order to get the bomb materials.
 
And we know the SFPD is actively searching for him.
 
Seems like more than just an idle threat.”

“And, if the police wanted our help…if they asked us to run his photo or make any kind of announcement, we would do it,” said Graham.
 
“But they’re doing the opposite, right?
 
They’re asking us to run nothing for now.”

“Yes,” said Lee.
 
“And, there is the added fear that the publicity might egg this guy on.
 
Maybe he’s had second thoughts.
 
But the attention might push him to do it.
 
Like throwing down the gauntlet.”

“You all may not remember this,” said Graham.
 
“There was a little of that sense a long time ago, back in the 70s, when the Zodiac killer was active.
 
He, or someone, was sending around these cryptic letters.
 
Sort of boasting…solve the riddle kind of thing.
 
And, we ran them.
 
It was an amazing story.
 
And the police never told us, ‘Don’t do it.’
 
But there was always the question of whether the notoriety egged him on.
 
Did fame raise the bar so he killed more than he might have? Of course, he eventually stopped and no one was ever prosecuted for the murders.”

“The bottom line is that we’re not going against the wishes of the police and Andrew Harper on this,” said Graham.
 
“The worst-case scenario is we run something and it causes this fellow to act when he would not have.
 
Or, it brings out someone else – a copycat – and
they
take a shot at Harper.
 
No one in this room wants to live with that.
 
I surely do not.”

Everyone was quiet for a moment as what Graham said sunk in.
 
His vote was the one that counted here.
 

But suddenly, it dawned on Lee that there might be a way out of this – a means to get Walberg’s name and photo out to the public to assist in the manhunt without mentioning Harper or a threat on his life.

“Well,” he said.
 
“There might be another way to go at this.”

“And?
 
What exactly is that?” said Carr.

“So, this guy is wanted in Montana” said Lee.
 
“A murder suspect.
 
Let’s just say that.
 
Run his photo.
 
Say that the police think he’s here.
 
Don’t mention Harper.
 
We get his photo out.
 
People can look for him.
 
We aren’t egging him on.
 
We aren’t encouraging copycats.”

The four in the room were silent for a moment, waiting for someone to find a problem with the plan.
 
No one did.

“That might work,” said Graham finally.
 
“Let’s make sure the police are on board if we go that route.
 
I don’t want any blowback.
 
Tell them we can go big or small.
 
Front page or inside.
 
Their call.”

* * *

Wednesday, June 16, 2004

Army Vet Wanted in Montana Shooting

By Enzo Lee

Authorities are searching for a Montana man believed to be in San Francisco in connection with the shooting death three weeks ago at a rock quarry in the northwestern part of that state.

Police said Steven Walberg, 28, is believed to have traveled to San Francisco following the shooting of a security guard at the DeGalt Granite Quarry near Thomson Falls, Montana in the early morning hours of May 23.
 
The guard apparently interrupted the theft of demolition explosives at the facility.

Walberg, who is a suspect in the May 23 killing, is an army veteran who was a U.S. Army Ranger who served in Somalia during the 1993 deployment and urban military actions in that country.
 
Authorities say they consider Walberg armed and dangerous and ask that anyone with information about him contact the SFPD immediately…
    

When Connors relayed to the SFPD brass the News’ idea of running Walberg’s photo with a story focusing solely on the Montana killing, the first question they had was why hadn’t they thought of this plan.
 
The second and third questions were how soon could the story run and how big.

Walberg saw his own photograph staring out at him while he waited in the takeout line at the coffee shop around the corner from the Sentinel Hotel.
 
That morning’s edition of the News was lying on a table near the door.
 
He pulled his cap lower over his face, and put his sunglasses on while he bought a cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin.
 
On his way out, he picked up the newspaper.

He was thankful no one was at the front desk of the Sentinel when he walked past and took the stairway up to his room.
 
Once inside, he spread the newspaper out on his bed, read the story and scrutinized the photograph of him.
 
He recognized it as the one on his driver’s license.
 
He folded the newspaper down so the photograph was at the top, walked over to the small mirror over the sink and held it underneath his chin.

He looked much different without the hair and mustache, not to mention being a few years older.
 
Side by side, you could see the resemblance.
 
But without that close comparison, he doubted too many people would make the connection.
 
Should he pack up right then and flee?
 
Where would he go?
 
He could get to the van and be on the street – even stay somewhere outside of San Francisco.
   

Walberg studied himself again in the mirror next to the photograph.
 
He liked being where he was.
 
It excited him to be this close, just a few blocks away from where he knew Harper would appear and where huge crowds soon would be celebrating Harper, homosexuality and God knows what other kinds of depravity.
 
It was a festival to worship Satan.
 
And he was here to blow it up, figuratively if not literally.
 
This was where he was meant to be.
 
He wasn’t running.
 
Not now.
 

He would stay where he was.
 
He’d avoid the front desk as much as he could and keep the Beretta with him at all times.
 
Meanwhile, he’d use the glasses, the hat and anything else he could think of to help disguise himself.