Wild Justice (19 page)

49 Andrew Volkov moved his cleaning cart against the wall to make way for two internists. They were deep in conversation and didn t even glance at the invisible man in the gray custodian s uniform. When they passed, Volkov moved his cart forward. As he did so, he noticed another doctor watching him from the end of the hall. He ducked his head and the doctor averted his eyes, but it was obvious that Volkov had been the object of his attention. The physician walked toward Volkov, who turned his cart and pushed it in the opposite direction. A hall led off to the right and he entered it. Halfway down the corridor was the entrance to a stairwell that led to the basement. He left his cart next to it, waited several beats before opening the door, then pushed it wide so that it would take time to close. If the doctor was following him, the door would bait him. If he missed it swinging shut the cart would provide a clue to where he d gone that only an idiot would miss. Volkov moved down the stairs slowly, pausing at each landing until he heard the hall door open. He had been right. He was being followed. He waited a moment, then continued to descend the stairs, making certain to step heavily enough so that his footsteps created echoes in the stairwell. When he reached the basement, Volkov opened the door and let it slam shut. In front of him was a narrow hallway made narrower by the exposed steam pipes that were attached to the walls. Low-wattage bulbs, spaced far apart, kept most of the corridor in shadow. The air was damp and cool. Volkov moved down the corridor at a steady pace until he was almost at a side hall that led to the boiler room. He paused until he heard the basement door open before turning into the side passage and pressing against the wall. Volkov heard footsteps drawing closer. They stopped at the entrance to the hallway. Then the doctor stepped around the corner. Why are you following me? Volkov asked. The doctor s eyes widened with fright. He pulled a scalpel out of his pocket and lunged. Volkov blocked the thrust and lashed out with a front kick. The doctor leaped back, and the janitor s toe only grazed him. Volkov s body flowed forward behind the kick. His fist caught the doctor s shoulder, slamming him against the concrete wall on the other side of the hallway. Volkov s next kick should have shattered his foe s kneecap, but he was surprised when his attacker moved into him, nullifying its power. Volkov felt a sharp pain in his side and realized that he d been stabbed. The doctor lashed out again, and the scalpel ripped through Volkov s shirt, slicing through skin. Volkov grunted, slashed upward with an elbow and saw blood gush from a broken nose. The doctor struck out blindly and stabbed Volkov in the cheek. The janitor unleashed a kick that connected solidly, driving the doctor backward until he lost his balance and fell to the floor. Andy? Arthur West, another janitor, was standing at the far end of the corridor. What s going on? West shouted. The doctor still held the scalpel and was struggling to his feet. Volkov hesitated. West started walking toward him. Volkov kicked the doctor again and ran toward the exit door at the end of the hallway. He tore it open and fled across the street to the employee parking lot.

50 Amanda walked from the Stockman Building toward the river for several blocks and found Vasquez waiting for her in a booth at the back of O Brien s Clam Bar. What s up? Vasquez asked Amanda handed him the list of employees that Tony had faxed to her. A friend of mine is a doctor at St. Francis. I told him a little about our case. He thinks that there s a good possibility that the person who planted the scalpel, clothing and coffee mug at the farmhouse works at St. Francis, since all of the evidence came from the hospital. This is a list of men who have been hired at St. Francis during the past two years. I want you to check them out. I ll get right on it. Great. A waitress arrived, and Amanda ordered fried clams and an iced tea. Bobby asked for a BLT and coffee. Now I have something for you, he said as soon as the waitress left. I ve been trying to find similar killing grounds in the United States and abroad. I went on the Web initially and found newspaper and periodical stories about serial murders that were like our cases. The reporters who wrote the stories gave me more information about each case and the names of the detectives who worked them. Most of the cops talked to me. They d sent their case information to the FBI s National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crimes for investigation by the Investigative Support Unit and VICAP, the Violent Criminal Apprehension Program. The waitress brought their drinks and Bobby continued. I know a former FBI agent who owes me a favor. He talked to some friends at the Bureau and got me more details on the domestic cases. With the international cases it was harder, but I know someone at the Interpol office in Salem. She was able to get me information on the foreign cases. Vasquez handed Amanda a multipage document. This is my preliminary list. I ve found murders that are similar to ours in Washington, Colorado, Florida, New Jersey, Canada, Belgium, Japan, Peru, and Mexico. And it turns out that there was another case right here in Oregon, he concluded, pointing to the synopsis, which explained that fourteen years ago two young women had been found buried in the forest near Ghost Lake, a ski resort in the Cascades. Something about the entry bothered Amanda, but her cell phone rang before she could figure out what it was. She took the phone out of her purse and answered it. Is something wrong? Vasquez asked when she hung up. My friend at St. Francis, the one who got me the list, has been attacked. I have to go to the hospital. Amanda rushed through Emergency until she found Tony slouched in a chair in an examining room. He had black-and-purple bruises under both eyes and a bandaged nose. There was dried blood on his shirt, which was open, revealing ribs wrapped with tape. Amanda stopped in the doorway, shocked by his appearance. Tony stood up when he saw her. The effort made him grimace. Amanda s eyes widened with concern. How badly are you hurt? Don t worry. Nothing s broken that can t be fixed. What happened? I was on my way to see a patient when I noticed a janitor named Andrew Volkov standing next to a cleaning cart. He s one of the employees on my list. Volkov saw me watching him and got flustered. I followed him into the basement, which was pretty stupid. If I had any brains, I would have realized that he was luring me downstairs. He jumped me and was beating the crap out of me when another janitor came along and scared him off. Is Volkov Cardoni? I couldn t honestly say. The body type is right, but I was too busy defending myself to get a good look at him. Amanda thought for a moment. Then she took out her cell phone. I m going to call Sean McCarthy. He can arrest Volkov for assault and take his prints. We ll know pretty soon if he s Cardoni.

51 It had been three days since the crime lab had matched the prints on Andrew Volkov s custodian s cart to the prints taken four years before from Vincent Cardoni s left hand. Prints found in Volkov s apartment also matched the doctor s. A thorough search of Volkov s locker at the hospital and his apartment provided no clue to Cardoni s whereabouts. Mike Greene was trying to distract himself while he waited for an update on the case by analyzing a chess game played between Judit Polgar and Viswanathan Anand in a recent tournament in Madrid. He was studying the pivotal position in the game when the phone rang. Greene swiveled his chair and picked up the receiver. This is Mike Greene. Hi, Mike. This is Roy Bishop. Bishop was an overbearing criminal defense attorney who was strongly suspected of being a little too friendly with some of the people he represented. What s up, Roy? I m calling on behalf of a client, someone I know you want to talk to. He wants to meet with you. Who are we talking about? Vincent Cardoni. Greene sat up straight. If you know where Cardoni is, you better tell me. Harboring a fugitive will get your ticket yanked. Ease up, Mike. I ve only talked to Cardoni on the phone. I have no idea where he is. Does he want to turn himself in? Absolutely not. He made it very clear that he won t meet with you unless he gets a guarantee in writing that he will not be arrested if he shows up and that nothing he says will be used against him. That s impossible. The man is a mass murderer. He says that he s not. But even if he is, from what he tells me, you don t have grounds to hold him. Mike Greene looked pale and drawn when Alex DeVore and Sean McCarthy entered his office at ten the next morning. Vincent Cardoni will be here in half an hour, Greene announced. He sounded exhausted. DeVore looked stunned. McCarthy said, He s turning himself in? Greene shook his head. He s coming here to talk. I had to guarantee that we would not take him into custody. Are you nuts? DeVore exclaimed. You re joking! McCarthy said simultaneously. I was here until ten last night and I was back here at seven this morning hashing this out with Jack, Henry Buchanan and Lillian Po, Greene answered, naming the district attorney for Multnomah County, his chief criminal deputy, and the head of the appellate section. There s no way we can hold him. He killed four people at the farmhouse, McCarthy said. He changed his features and lied to get a job at St. Francis so he could steal the coffee mug, the scalpel and the clothes, DeVore argued. He killed all those people in Milton County. It won t wash. Cardoni had access to the items we found at the farmhouse, but there is no way we can prove that he stole them and planted them there. There isn t a single piece of evidence connecting Cardoni to the farmhouse or any of the victims. Believe me, guys, we went round and round on this. I m as frustrated as you are. What about Milton County? He s still under indictment there, McCarthy said. Mike looked grim. There was a massive screwup in the Milton County case, an unbelievable screwup. The judge signed an order granting Cardoni s motion to suppress, which he filed in the clerk s office. Fred Scofield had thirty days to appeal the order if he didn t want it to become final. During the thirty days, Cardoni disappeared and his hand was found in the cabin. Everyone thought that he was dead, and Scofield forgot to file the appeal. That means that Judge Brody s order is final and no evidence seized from the cabin or Cardoni s home in Portland can be used at a trial. Without that evidence, there is no Milton County case. I don t believe this, McCarthy said. You re telling me there s no way to put Cardoni in jail? He s killed at least a dozen people. Unless you ve got proof that s admissible in court, that s just speculation. I can t arrest a man on a hunch. Damn it, there s got to be a way, McCarthy muttered to himself. Suddenly he brightened. Fiori! Cardoni attacked Dr. Fiori. We can hold him for assault. I m afraid not. Cardoni says Fiori was stalking him. Fiori admits he followed Cardoni into the basement with a scalpel and made the first aggressive move. Cardoni s claiming self-defense. Look, guys, we went through these arguments a million times. It always comes out the same way. There isn t a person in this office who doesn t believe that Vincent Cardoni is a homicidal monster, but the sad truth is that there isn t enough evidence to hold him. We ve already faxed Bishop our written assurance that we won t arrest Cardoni within twenty-four hours of this meeting. If he knows you don t have the evidence to arrest him, why does Cardoni want to meet with you? DeVore asked. Before he could answer, the intercom buzzed and the receptionist announced that Dr. Cardoni and Roy Bishop were in the waiting area. Greene told her to show them to the conference room. Then he turned to DeVore. You can ask him yourself. Vincent Cardoni took a seat opposite Mike Greene at the long table in the conference room. A row of stitches crossed Cardoni s cheek. Roy Bishop, a large man with styled brown hair, sat next to his client. Sean McCarthy studied the surgeon carefully. It was hard to believe that this was the man he had arrested four years before. Good morning, Dr. Cardoni, McCarthy said. I see you re still as polite as you were when you arrested me. Except for growing a little grayer, I haven t changed. But you certainly have. Cardoni smiled. Why don t we get down to business, Roy? Greene said. I m dying to know why your client wants to talk to me. It s a mystery to me, too, Mike. Dr. Cardoni has not confided his reasons to me. I hope you re planning to confess, Doctor, Greene said. It ll save us a lot of trouble. There isn t a thing for me to confess. Contrary to what you believe, I never murdered anyone. Justine killed the people at the farmhouse, and she s responsible for the victims in Milton County. Who s responsible for cutting off your hand? McCarthy asked. Cardoni held up his right hand and slid down his cuff. Everyone in the room stared at the jagged scar encircling his wrist. I did this, Cardoni told McCarthy. Plastic surgery, a false identity and self-mutilation? That s pretty extreme behavior for an innocent man. I was desperate. I couldn t see any other way to stay alive. Want to explain that to us? Greene prompted. Cardoni looked at the DA and the two detectives. I can tell that you don t believe me, but I swear I m telling the truth. Justine was Clifford Grant s partner in a black-market organ scheme. She killed him, then set me up so that Martin Breach would think I was the one who ripped him off. Cardoni took a deep breath. He looked down at the conference table when he spoke. You ve seen Justine. She s beautiful and brilliant, and she was always two steps ahead of me. Justine knew every one of my weaknesses. Look, I know I m no saint. The pressure in medical school was too intense for me. I used all sorts of pharmaceuticals to cope with it, and they almost destroyed me. Fighting my addiction was exhausting, and it was easy to give in when Justine brought me cocaine. I didn t even realize that she was trying to break me down until it was too late. I also didn t know why she saw so much of Clifford Grant until Frank Jaffe told me that Grant was harvesting organs for Martin Breach. He told me about the raid at the airfield. Justine was Grant s silent partner. She framed me to make Breach think I was. Shortly after Frank got me out of jail two of Breach s men attacked me. I was able to get the better of them, and I made one of them tell me why I was attacked. This was the same day I learned that the Milton County DA was trying to reopen the motion to suppress and that there was a good chance I would have to go back to jail. I was strung out on coke, and I figured I was either going to be tortured to death by Martin Breach or end up on death row. My only way out was to convince everyone that I was dead. So you chopped off your hand, McCarthy said. Cardoni fixed on McCarthy. He seemed exasperated. Imagine you re accused of a crime you didn t commit. The state of Oregon wants to give you a lethal injection, and a vicious criminal doesn t think that would be a violent enough death. Don t you think you might take desperate measures to save your life? I ve got too many real-life problems on my plate to worry about hypothetical ones, Doctor. Maybe you can give me the answer to one of them. Did you steal a coffee mug and a scalpel with Dr. Castle s fingerprints on them and plant them at the farmhouse to implicate her? Haven t you been listening to what I said? She s insane. She s a mass murderer. You ve got her now. I m begging you, don t let her get away with this. Dr. Cardoni, Greene said, I agreed to this meeting in the hopes that you would surrender yourself or at least admit your guilt. Instead you ve told us a story that you can t support with one shred of evidence. Cardoni s head dropped into his hands. Greene continued. I ll be frank with you. I don t believe a word you ve said. I think you framed Dr. Castle for your own bizarre reasons and set up this meeting in the hopes that you could manipulate me into furthering your plan to send an innocent woman to death row. It s not going to work. If you let Justine out, she ll kill again. She is the most dangerous murderer you ve ever dealt with. You ve got to believe me. Well, I don t. Unless you want to surrender or confess, this meeting is over.