Wake the Devil (27 page)

T
he U.S. Attorney felt he could ensnare the Sandman by concealing officers around the park and safehouse who’d be ready to pounce once they established his location. He was convinced Courtney intended to attack the safehouse directly or use the drone to cause another evacuation. This would give him another chance for a shot at Rachel Lawrence. As a precaution, Donofrio wanted marksmen available to shoot the drone down if it started across the reservoir.

Pappas and Beth both thought the logic was sound and looked to Jack for his opinion. To their surprise, he disagreed. Frustrated, Donofrio threw up his hands and told them he was going over their heads.

“You have that right,” Jack said.

The attorneys marched off down the hall.

Pappas told him, “The guy has a point, Jack. We’re out of time.”

“We are, but this isn’t the way. His plan is flawed.”

“How so?” Beth asked.

“His thinking is one dimensional. The Sandman will certainly make a move, but it won’t be something as obvious as faking a second drone attack. A feint is consistent with what he’s done before, but he won’t employ the same strategy a second time. A variation, perhaps, but not the same tactic. It also doesn’t take his partner into account.”

“Assuming there is one,” Pappas said. “We’re not even sure he exists.”

“Oh, he exists. One person couldn’t have pulled off what Courtney’s been able to accomplish without help.”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong, but is it possible we’re chasing a ghost?” Pappas asked.

“Anything’s possible, Dan. We’re not. Which is why Beth is leaving for Arizona in two hours.”

Startled, Beth and Pappas looked at each other then back at him.

*

It didn’t take long for the events Jack had foreseen to unfold. Politics was a great catalyst. Janet Newton and Carmine Donofrio both had careers riding on the outcome. The telephone call Jack expected from the deputy director came in shortly after Beth had left for the Charlie Brown Airport on the west side of the city. She was clearly not happy about being sent out of town, but in Jack’s view, there was no choice. He wanted her as far away from Thom Courtney as possible. The hold on Courtney’s sanity was tenuous at best and apt to give way at any moment. He had spared her three times. A fourth wasn’t likely. Worse, he could decide she needed to share the same fate as Courtney’s sister. There was little question in his mind Courtney had killed her boyfriend and his uncle before setting fire to his house. Promise or no promise, Jack didn’t need Beth charging after the killer again.

Janet Newton said, “I’ve been on the phone with Atlanta’s SAC for the last thirty minutes. We were discussing Donofrio’s plan. I think it’s worth pursuing.”

“I don’t.”

“Tell me why.”

“I agree the Sandman will try for Dr. Lawrence, but what he’s planning is far more complex than what Donofrio has in mind.”

“I’m listening.”

“In each of his previous assassinations, Courtney set up a diversion to distract authorities away from the target. The complexity varied from case to case, but it always matched the circumstances. This is too obvious and too simplistic.”

“He doesn’t know we have Walpole or that he’s cooperating with us.”

“Donofrio presumes he’ll strike the safehouse and forgets George Lawrence’s funeral is an opportunity too. There’s also some evidence I’ve been looking into that—”

“Jack, the grand jury convenes at two o’clock tomorrow afternoon. That gives us just over twenty-four hours. Donofrio says Walpole is supposed to fly the drone at nine
AM
.”

“Correct.”

“I also received an e-mail from Todd Milner about the techs finding an explosive in the drone’s body. To me, that indicates he’s planning to come at the safehouse.”

“I received the same message.”

“So it makes sense.”

“Smoke and mirrors. The amount is too small. It’s basically a glorified fire cracker. We’re jumping the gun. There’s a better way to do—”

“Even so, the explosive makes a pretty strong argument for a distraction,” Janet said.

“Only if you happen to be holding the drone.”

There was silence on the line.

“All right, Milner says he’s on the fence, so I guess it’s up to me to make the call. I want you to set up the sting using Walpole. When he makes contact with Courtney, we’ll triangulate on his cellphone signal. We’ll also put marksmen in place to shoot it down if it starts across the water. Afterward, Walpole will go into federal custody for his own protection, since he’s now a witness.”

“You’re the boss, Janet.”

“Can you get behind this, or do you want me to shift to Todd Milner?”

“Todd’s a very competent agent and apparently you work well together.”

“This is a first for the both of us. My first month as deputy regional director and I get this crap dumped on my head. Do you want to continue?”

“I’ll do my best,” Jack said. “Todd mentioned Borov is about to meet with an ISIS representative. Stopping that may be more important in the overall scheme.”

They went on to discuss how Jack intended to handle the security arrangements for George Lawrence’s funeral in the event Donofrio’s plan didn’t succeed. He could tell his old friend was nervous and under pressure.

She said, “Between you and me, I’d stop the funeral if I could, but there’s no judge in the world who’ll keep a wife from attending her husband’s memorial service.”

“I agree.”

“Can you keep her safe?”

“We can and we will.”

Janet Newton was silent for so long he thought she had broken the connection. She finally spoke. “Jack, I’m sorry to pull rank this way. You know how much I think of you. Unfortunately we’re out of options. We’re . . . I take that back, I’m under a microscope. Stop this bastard for me.”

Jack was about to respond when he realized she had hung up this time.

Six Hours to the Grand Jury

W
esley answered the phone on the second ring. It was eight o’clock in the morning and Lenny was calling.

“I’m so glad I got you,” Lenny said. “The police picked me up yesterday.”

“For what?”

“More questions.”

“The same officers?” Wesley asked.

“Those were ATF agents. This was a lady detective and an FBI agent.”

“Describe them.”

“The woman’s tall, slender, and really pretty. The man’s about six feet and blond, maybe sandy-haired.”

Wesley’s hands tightened at his description of Elizabeth. He’d given her every chance, but she was still with other men. Men, with their pawing hands and filthy minds. What did Father Mike say? Once the devil grabs hold of your soul, you’ll pay a dear price to get it back. Fire might cleanse and burn the stain away, but some part always remains. How? How? How could she continue this after all he’d done for her? Betrayal had to be the worst sin of all.

“Rick, are you there?”

“What? Sure. I was just thinking.”

“I have to tell you something else. Please don’t be mad.”

“I won’t. Go ahead.”

“They told me your real name is Thomas Courtney and you’re a contract killer. They said you killed the other man who was flying the airplane. They really scared me.”

Wesley laughed. “A contract killer? That’s a good one.”

“They even showed me a photo of you. At least I think it was you. It looked like you were younger then.”

“There are a lot of photos of me on the Internet,” Wesley said. “Remember, I told you the competition was awfully cut-throat and they’d try to screw the picture up if they could.”

“I remember.”

“Let me ask you this, who provides security for the equipment we use?”

“The cops, I guess,” Lenny said.

“Well, it’s the same for the other company. They want to get their film in the can first. If they stop us even by a few weeks, they win.”

“I never thought of it that way,” Lenny said.

“There you go. Was that fellow Jack Kale there when they questioned you?”

“I met him, but he didn’t say much.”

“Okay. Where are you now?” Wesley asked.

“At the park.”

“Is anyone else with you?”

“There are a couple people around, but no one’s paying much attention to me.”

Wesley adjusted the lens of his scope and scanned the area. It took only a moment to spot the blond agent and three marksmen in camouflage hiding in the bushes and in the trees. Two U.S. Marshals were “casually” hanging out by the safehouse, smoking cigarettes, their weapons carefully concealed behind the trees.

What a joke.

Kale was the one he wanted. Cut off the head, Father Mike said, and the body dies. He was furious with Lenny for betraying him. He could see the little man on the phone. A moment ago, he’d been talking to the FBI agent. All alone, was he? Liar! That Wesley had even thought they could be friends made him sick.

He looked harder at the house. There she was, passing by the window, Elizabeth, the ultimate traitor. He was about to show them how safe that house was.

“Rick?”

“Yes, Lenny?”

“I thought you hung up. Are you angry?”

“Not at all. You did right by telling me. Just crank up the drone and let her fly. I’ll pick you up for dinner tonight. Studio’s treat.”

*

Jack studied the drone on the ground, six arms each with an engine in a starburst pattern. The oval control unit at the center looked like a spider’s body. The previous evening Stan Kaufman had removed the RDX rendering the machine harmless. The switch Courtney used was clever. It contained a mercury trigger that would immediately activate if the wrong wire was clipped. Its GPS capability could put it within ten feet of its target.

One by one, Lenny Walpole started the engines and then moved to his precious laptop to initiate the flight sequence.

*

Fifteen hundred yards away Wesley watched the craft lift into the air and hover above the ground like something out of Star Wars. The three agents kept themselves well in the background. Having used his cellphone, he knew he only had a few minutes before they closed in on him. Even if they managed to fix his position, he’d be long gone by the time they arrived. Still enough time to do what he had to.

I told you, boy-o; the man was not to be trusted.

You did, Father.

I’m sorry he turned out to be a disappointment. I’d have spared you that if I could.

It’s all right.

Ah, but I know there’s some pain involved.

I’ll get over it. Elizabeth is the one that hurts the most. Once a harlot, always a harlot, I suppose.

Now, now. Judge not, lest ye shall be judged yourself.

I understand.

About time to put an end to this, wouldn’t you say, son?

Yes . . . about time.

Wesley took one final look at Lenny as his finger moved to the button on his cellphone, the one that would send the signal. He had
no room in his life for liars and Judases. Closing his eyes, he took a breath and pressed the button.

The explosion was muffled. More muffled than it should have been. He grabbed his spotting scope and saw Lenny crouched behind one of the unmarked cruisers. Impossible!

The drone was still hovering in the air twenty feet above the agents’ heads. Kale was no longer watching it. He was scanning the trees looking for him. He could see those eyes searching.

Time to take our leave, boy-o. They’re onto us.

I don’t understand.

Figured out the plan, son. That Kale’s a smart one. Out of here now.

I can still take a shot. Elizabeth has to pay.

There’ll be other opportunities. He who fights and runs away lives to fight another day. Move it. Move it.

*

Todd Milner turned to Jack Kale. When the RDX exploded inside the bomb-proof container, destroying Lenny’s laptop, the little man’s shoulders slumped. He looked terrified and totally defeated.

“How did you know?” Milner asked.

“What we recovered at the photographer’s house showed bits of C-6, but there were also traces of high impact gray plastic, the same color as Walpole’s computer. When we checked the screws under a microscope, it was obvious they’d been removed. In addition, the case had some pry marks indicating it had been opened. Because Courtney gave Lenny the laptop, I assumed that’s where the main explosive was hidden. It was clever because there was nothing when the ATF examined it. The fact that it was there now meant he planned to force Lenny out and cover his tracks.”

“So he was just trying to kill Walpole?”

“You said it yourself. Lenny knows what he looks like, just as Peter Shackelford did. If he could take us out in the process, so much the better for him.”

“It looks like the funeral’s in play now.”

“I think we have to assume it is.”

“Solid stuff, buddy,” Milner said, squeezing Jack’s shoulder. “By the way, where is Beth now? I haven’t seen her around this morning.”

“Running down some leads. A police officer who looks like her volunteered to walk past the window hoping it would give our guys some time to pin Courtney down.”

“Bright,” Milner said. “I take it Dr. Lawrence isn’t here either.”

“No, she’s home getting dressed. She left at five
AM
.”

*

The name of the game was cover your ass. Carmine Donofrio, who’d been monitoring the situation, was livid. He was convinced the FBI had responded too slowly to establish a fix on the killer’s cellphone, allowing him to slip through their fingers again. At the press conference, Sally Yellen, Atlanta’s SAC, implied the U.S. Marshals had been remiss. When interviewed, the Marshal Service declined official comment other than to state their men were on alert and in position at all times, but did not see any threats in the form of snipers. Wayne Ruckhouser, vice chairman of the Senate oversight subcommittee, concluded the matter had been improperly handled from the outset and urged Janet Newton to change the lead investigator.

*

Todd Milner reluctantly agreed to take over and indicated he would personally stay with Rachel Lawrence at the safehouse until after her grand jury appearance. Jack received the news of his dismissal in an e-mail from the deputy director.

He had just pulled into the church parking lot where George Lawrence’s funeral was to be held. There were so many cars, he was forced to park in the last row. Dr. Lawrence had been a popular and well-liked man.

Working in combination with the APD, Milner had erected a temporary tent-like enclosure around the front entrance that extended all the way to the parking lot. It allowed the limousine carrying Rachel and her family to pull up and unload, taking away any chance for a sniper to get a clear shot at her. Jack nodded his approval and wondered what sort of arrangements Milner would have in place at the cemetery.

The church was huge. He had seen it a number of times rising majestically on a hill alongside I-75, but had never been inside. Calling it a cathedral wouldn’t have been out of place. On the rooftop were two marshals armed with rifles. A line of mourners, there to pay their respects, had formed and were waiting to pass through a metal detector, which Milner had also installed. Even so, he doubted the church could hold everyone. Jack took his place at the end. After a minute, he saw the rumpled form of Dan Pappas striding across the lawn toward him. The big detective motioned for Jack to join him.

“Never saw you in a suit before,” Pappas said.

“That’s what you got me out of line to tell me?”

“About an hour ago the uniforms pulled a man’s body out of the Chattahoochee.”

“And?”

“He had no hands and no face.”

“Unusual,” Jack said.

“
Unusual?
”

“Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? Do we know how long he’d been in the water?”

“A few hours, according to the ME. The body was just letting go of rigor.”

“Interesting,” Jack said.

“Anyone ever tell you you have an amazing capacity for the understatement? Interesting? That’s the best you can come up with?”

“You have a better word?”

“No. That’s why I’m here,” Pappas said.

“I’m not on the case anymore, Dan. I was fired, or hadn’t you heard?”

“I did and it’s bullshit. They’re looking for a scapegoat.”

Jack smiled. “I know. Describe the body for me.”

“Five foot nine and around a hundred seventy-five pounds, brown hair, gray-blue eyes. Pretty good shape, except for the no hands and no face part.”

“Cause of death?”

“Two bullets to the head at close range. The ME said stippling and powder burns were visible.”

“Were his teeth intact?”

Pappas pulled the report out of his pocket and glanced through it. “Looks that way. Getting an ID will take time, and we’d need comparison records. You think this is related?”

“Hard to believe it isn’t considering its similarity to the fire marshal’s condition. We need to make sure though.”

“How can we do that? The guy’s ID-proof.”

“Maybe not,” Jack said. “I saw Richard Sklar going inside a minute ago. He used to teach at Emory’s dental school, if I remember correctly. Let’s ask him to take a look at the body. Was the vic dressed?”

“Yeah. The clothes are on the way to the crime lab. Nelda said she’ll look at them later.”

Jack checked his watch. “Maybe you can convince her to do it right away.”