Fade (2005) (15 page)

Strand's meeting had gone on for another hour, finally descending int o a jittery, and ultimately pointless, flood of questions for which h e had no answers.

The knock at his door was timid enough that Egan decided to ignore i t and hope whoever it was would go away. It was already over two hour s past the absolute outside time he'd targeted for being the hell out o f there. It was not his plan to get shot driving out of the most obviou s place he could possibly be. If he was going to lose this thing, he'
d like to do it with a little more dignity than that.

The knocking started again just as he was closing the flaps of the bo x on his desk. This time a bit more assertive.

"What?"

The door opened slowly, revealing Billy and Lauren. They just stoo d there on the threshold, making no move to enter.

"What?" Egan repeated as he used his fingernail to try to lift th e edge of a roll of packing tape.

"Can we talk to you a second?" Billy looked like he'd had better days , but the change in Lauren was downright startling. She actually had a few hairs out of place and the collar of her blouse was crooked. I t didn't sound like much, but in a woman who arranged her sushi by siz e before eating it, those subtle signals were nearly the equivalent of a nervous breakdown.

"Talk fast," Egan said.

They stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind them and ignorin g his request by just standing there silently.

"For God's sake, what?" Egan said, his frustration increasing as h e wrestled with the tape roll.

Lauren took an uncharacteristically hesitant step forward. "We'r e wondering what we should do, Matt. I mean, I live alone in a groun d floor apartment. How am I supposed to protect myself? Should I b e buying a gun?"

Egan let out a long breath and tossed the tape on his desk. "Al l right. I want you both to listen to me very carefully. Fade want s Hillel and he wants me, though I'm not sure in what order. He has n o interest in you he's not going to run the risk of exposing himself an d missing his chance at me and Hillel. Don't buy guns, don't buy pi t bulls, and don't buy security systems. None of them would do a thin g to deter Fade if he was interested. But he's not, okay? Hell, h e would have no way of even knowing who you are. He has absolutely n o investigative background and from what I remember, he can barely eve n turn on a computer."

"If he's not interested in us, then why did he threaten us?" Laure n said. Billy seemed content to let her lead.

The short answer, of course, was that he hadn't. But Egan wasn'
t prepared to call his boss a liar. Not yet anyway.

"He wants to rattle you, Lauren. He doesn't want you thinkin g straight."

"But if we do think straight and we start getting too close, what's t o keep him from coming after us to slow us down?"

It was a good question, but impossible to answer in a way that woul d sound even remotely convincing. What would stop him is that, despit e current evidence to the contrary, he wasn't a murderer. He didn'
t purposely kill women, children, innocent bystanders, or office staff.

How could Egan sum up in two minutes a person that he'd spent year s with?

"Look, you can either listen to what I'm telling you or not," Ega n said, hefting the box and starting toward the door. "Do whatever make s you sleep better at night."

Billy stepped out of the way, but Lauren didn't.

"That's it, Matt? Our lives are on the line and that's all you have t o say? I'm sorry. Are we delaying your escape?"

"Lauren " Billy cautioned.

"What the fuck do you want from me?" Egan said, cutting him off. "Yo u want me to tell you that if you put a pistol under your pillow you'l l be safe? Maybe you should go over to intensive care and ask that SWAT
g uy if he thinks that'll work out for you. Now if you'll get out of m y way, I'm going to go out there and try to find him and when I do , I'l l ~B
m ention to him that he's stressing you out right before he kills me."
i f c Egan swung the box, catching her in the shoulder hard enough to shov e her out of the doorway, and started for the elevators.

Chapter
Nineteen.

"My husband never thought she was ready. She was just promoted becaus e of feminist politics, you know. And now .. ." The woman's voic e faltered and she dabbed at her eyes without disturbing the meticulousl y applied mascara. "And now he's dead."

Her name was Brandy Slater, though rumor had it she was considerin g changing the spelling to end with an i. She was actually quite a beautiful woman in a porn star kind of way and the camera clearly love d her as much as she loved it. Karen Manning reached for the televisio n remote, put her thumb against the off button, but couldn't quite brin g herself to press it.

"You shouldn't be able to play politics with things like this," Brand y continued earnestly. "People's lives are at stake."

Her husband, Hal, had been one of the men killed by al Fayed and Brand y seemed to have found solace in the act of offering her expert criticis m of Karen on every station in the western hemisphere. Ironically, Ha l had been a pretty good guy. While he understandably hadn't gone out o n any social or political limbs to defend his team leader, he'd alway s been pretty fair. And even more ironically, Karen suspected that Hal'
s death wasn't what had poisoned Brandy against her. They'd met five o r six times at parties and the bottom line was that she was one of thos e women who saw Karen's ilk as endangering the pampered life women wit h her physical attributes so deserved to lead. Every effort Karen ha d made to create some kind of connection with Brandy had been met wit h nothing but anger and paranoia. What was she worried about? Ther e would always be a place in this world for big-haired bimbos.

"None of the guys thought she was qualified they were always talkin g about how she could get them killed .. ."

Karen grimaced and wondered if ol' Brandy would have anticipate d radio-controlled bombs in the goddamn trees. At the pre-op briefing , she didn't remember Hal bringing up that particular possibility. O
r anyone else, for that matter.

She fell over sideways on the sofa, still staring at the screen an d reminding herself that it hadn't been Brandy or Hal's job to anticipat e anything. It had been hers.

The camera moved off Brandy and the interviewer started into a no w familiar monologue about possible peculiarities in her promotion an d errors of judgment, but carefully avoided giving examples.

Of course, there was no mention that she was the fastest member of th e team able to fly by the runner-up without even breaking a sweat. An d there would be no comment on the fact that she was the best educated a 3.4 undergrad average and some postgraduate work in criminology. Poun d for pound, she was also the strongest physically. Shooting had bee n her biggest weakness but she'd hired a coach and devoted months to it , ending up third best on the team. It wasn't like any of thes e qualities were subjective they had all been tested, recorded, an d apparently completely forgotten.

The screen flickered and then joined a press conference already in th e question and answer session.

"What is Officer Manning's status now?"

Captain Pickering frowned disapprovingly from behind his lectern. "Sh e is currently on administrative leave pending the completion of a n investigation into this incident."

"Do you have any leads as to al Fayed's whereabouts?" anothe r offscreen reporter asked.

"I can't comment directly, but I will tell you that I'm very happy wit h the progress of the investigation thus far." He pointed to a raise d hand at the bottom of the screen.

"Captain, based on Mr. al Fayed's military history, were any specia l precautions taken in trying to capture him?"

Karen sat up straight again and propped her feet against the coffe e table. "Why don't you tell them that I wanted to pick him up fo r speeding, you asshole?"

"That's something we're looking into. Next question?"

The same reporter yelled out a follow-up. "Captain, a single man, wit h rather old military experience, nearly killed an entire SWAT team. Ho w does this reflect on the training your men receive?"

Karen leaned into the television, interested to hear how Pickerin g would spin the answer to that. It would be hard to blame her, sinc e she didn't really have anything to do with setting training policy, bu t it was going to be even harder for him to admit that his beloved elit e warriors had suddenly been transformed into cannon fodder when face d with a competent opponent.

"These were top men!" he nearly shouted. "And they gave their live s in the performance of their duty. I will not have their bravery an d dedication questioned." A rather obvious non answer but emphati c enough not to get a challenge.

"Captain, a two-part question if I may," came a woman's voice. "Yo u mentioned that Karen Manning has been put on administrative leav e pending an investigation. Isn't this standard procedure in this typ e of situation? And second, based on your preliminary findings, is ther e any reason to believe that Officer Manning did not follow departmen t procedures in trying to apprehend the suspect?"

Karen tried to will the camera to shift to the reporter who had aske d the question. It paid to keep track of news people who weren'
t carrying torches and pitchforks.

"Our investigation into this can be measured in hours, ma'am. I hav e no idea at this point of what happened and what didn't and even if I d id know, I couldn't comment on it at this juncture. Next ques "

"And the first part of my question? The administrative leave?"

"You go, girl," Karen muttered.

"Yes .. ." Pickering was forced to concede. "Yes, it's standar d procedure."

Karen clicked off the television and flopped back onto the sofa tha t had been beneath her all day. This wasn't healthy. She should jus t leave the television off and go for a run. Or clean the dishes stacke d in the sink. Or.. .

Instead she turned the TV back on and began another slow scan of th e channels.

For what reason, she wasn't sure. It seemed almost certain now tha t her side of the story would never be told. Pickering had sent her u p against al Fayed despite her protests and it had turned into a disaster. Now he was going to say as little as possible and le t anonymous sources and widows do their work.

The phone rang and she craned her neck around to look at it. No fewe r than five reporters had already called that day, but it had been mad e very clear to her that she wasn't to speak to them while th e investigation was in process. And while she might be forced eventuall y to disobey that order, it wasn't time to go to war on this yet.

When the machine picked up, she heard John Wakefield's voice.

"Get off the sofa and answer the phone, Karen."

She reached for the handset. "Hello, John."

"So how are things?"

"Have you been watching the news?"

He didn't answer.

"Then you know how things are going."

"I've had a couple of calls from reporters, but I haven't taken them.

I'm not sure what to say."

Karen pulled a pillow over her head and stared into the darkness. No t him, too. If there was one thing she knew she couldn't take, it wa s Wake-field turning away from her.

"Karen? Are you there?"

"John, I ..." She heard her voice break and wiped away a tear b y pressing the pillow harder into her face. "I know I'm responsible. Bu t was it my fault? Tell me the truth."

"That's not what I meant, Karen. If I didn't believe in you on e hundred percent, I wouldn't have walked through the fire to bring yo u in on the Collector case. I am more than willing to call thes e reporters back when we hang up, but I wanted to talk to you first."

Karen let the pillow slide to the floor and reemerged into the light.

"Thanks, John. That means a lot."

"So? Do you want me involved?"

"No. Thanks, but not yet. I'm going to let it run its course for a little while and see what happens."

"You know that Pickering is going to do everything he can to save hi s ass."

"Yeah. I know. What's up with the Collector?"

"The letters came in. He's got his new girl."

Karen let out a long breath. "Stephany Narwal?"

"Yeah."

Narwal had been reported missing four days ago a beautiful young woma n who fit the victim profile perfectly.

"I wish you could have been there to help me talk to her family. I t ried to get you off leave and back in the office, but there's no way.

Policy. If I come up with anything, though, I'll figure out a way t o get you in on it. I miss having your eyes on this thing."

"Thanks. I appreciate that."

"Keep your chin up."

She hung up and for the first time that day didn't feel an urge t o stare at the news. Thank God for John Wakefield.

The phone rang again just as she was starting into the kitchen and sh e grabbed it and took it along with her.

"Hello?" she said, pulling open the door to the dishwasher an d beginning to dig silverware out of the sink.