Текст книги "The Simple Truth"

Автор книги: David Baldacci

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

Didnt he introduce you and your wife? Sara asked.

Thats another reason I owe him so much.

Fiske watched Elizabeth Knight methodically work the room, as polished and poised as any experienced politico. Fiske scanned the room again but didnt see any sign of Ramsey or Murphy. He wondered if they had boycotted the event. He did note several of the other justices looking nervous and uncomfortable. The fear that a madman wanted to mount your head in his trophy case could do that to you. His eyes passed over Richard Perkins hovering in the background. There were armed guards everywhere and Fiske knew the hot topic of the evening was the two murdered clerks. Fiskes eyes narrowed as he spied Warren McKenna knifing through the crowd like a shark looking for flesh to devour.

You two make a great team, Sara said. Jordan Knight touched his glass to hers. I think so too.

Your wife ever think about running for political office? Fiske asked.

John, shes a Supreme Court justice. Its a lifetime appointment, Sara exclaimed. Fiske kept his eyes on Jordan. Wouldnt be the first time someone left the Court in pursuit of another job, would it?

Jordan looked at him keenly. No, it wouldnt, John. As a matter of fact, over the years Beth and I have talked about that. Im not going to be in the Senate forever. Ive got a seven-thousand-acre ranch out in New Mexico. I can easily see myself running that until the end of my days.

And maybe your wife becomes the Virginia senator in the household?

I never presume to know what Beth will do. It actually adds a level of excitement to our marriage that I think is incredibly healthy. He smiled at his remark and Fiske felt himself smile in return. Sara was raising her glass as a thought hit her. Senator, can I use a phone?

Use the one in my study, Sara. Its more private.

She glanced at Fiske but said nothing. After she had gone, Jordan said, Shes quite a young woman.

I wouldnt disagree with that, Fiske said.

Since shes been clerking for Beth, Ive come to know her quite well. Ive been almost like a father figure, I guess you could say. She has a brilliant future ahead of her.

Well, shes got a great role model in your wife. Fiske almost choked on his drink as he said this.

The absolute best. Beth does nothing halfway.

Fiske thought about this remark for a moment. I know your wife is a real go-getter, but she might want to cut back on her schedule until the case is solved. You dont want to give some maniac a free shot.

Jordan studied Fiske over the rim of his glass for a moment. Do you really think the justices might be in danger?

Fiske didnt really think so, but he wasnt about to say that to Jordan. If he and Sara were wrong in their conclusions, he didnt want anyone letting down his guard.

Lets put it this way, Senator, if anything happens to your wife, no one will care what I think.

Jordans face slowly went pale. I see your point.

Fiske noticed a line forming to talk to the man. I wont take up any more of your time. Keep up the good work.

Thank you, John, I intend to.

Senator Knight started to receive the other guests. He neednt have bothered to work the room, Fiske thought. His wife had probably already hit all the important players. *����*����* In Jordan Knights study, Sara dialed home for messages. She had forgotten to check earlier, and she was desperately hoping to hear back from George Barker, the newspaper editor from Rufus Harmss hometown. Her hopes were rewarded when she heard the old mans deep voice on her answering machine. He sounded a little contrite, she thought. She snatched a piece of paper from the notebook on the desk and wrote the name down: Samuel Rider. George Barker had left only the mans name; apparently, after twenty-five years, that was all the information his files had contained. She had to find out Riders office address and telephone number right away. As she looked up, she saw the way to do it. The bookshelves on the far wall of the study held a set of current Martindale-Hubbells, the official directory of the legal profession, which purported to have the name, office address and phone number of virtually every attorney licensed to practice in the United States. It was divided by states and territories, and she decided to opt for the local jurisdictions first. As she looked through the index for the commonwealth of Virginia, her search was rewarded as she spotted the name Samuel Rider. Flipping to the page indicated, she found a brief bio of Rider. He had been in the JAG in the early seventies. That had to be the man. She dialed the phone number to his office, but received no answer. She dialed Information for his home phone number, but it was unlisted. She hung up, thoroughly frustrated. She had to talk to the man. She thought a moment. The timing would be very tight, so there was only one way to do it. A phone directory was on the desk and she used it to look up a number. It took only a few minutes to arrange things. She and Fiske had a couple of hours before they could leave. With any luck they would be back by early tomorrow morning. As Sara opened the door to the study, Elizabeth Knight was standing there.

Jordan told me you might be back here.

I had to make a phone call.

I see.

I guess Ill get back to the party.

Sara, I need to talk to you in private for a moment.

Elizabeth Knight motioned her back into the study and then closed the door behind them. The justice had on a simple white dress, minimal makeup and a tasteful sapphire necklace. The white dress made her skin seem even more pallid. However, she wore her hair down and the dark strands were striking against the white background. When she made the effort, Sara thought, Elizabeth Knight could be a very attractive woman. She apparently picked those moments with great care. At this moment, Elizabeth Knight looked very uncomfortable.

Is there something wrong? Sara asked.

I dislike delving into the personal lives of my clerks, Sara, I really do, but when it reflects on the image of the Court, then I feel that it is my duty to say something.

Im not sure I understand.

Knight collected her thoughts for a moment. Ever since the realization that she had, however unwittingly, condemned Steven Wright to death, her nerves had been in tatters. She felt like lashing out at someone, even if unfairly. It was not her habit to do such a thing, but the fact was shewasupset with Sara Evans. And she did care about her. Thus, the young woman was going to feel the justices wrath. Youre a very smart woman. A very attractive and smart young woman.

Im afraid I still dont

Knights tone changed. Im talking about you and John Fiske. Richard Perkins reported that he saw you and Fiske leaving your home together this morning.

Justice Knight, with all due respect, that is my personal business.

It is certainly more than your personal business, Sara, if it reflects negatively on the Court.

I dont see how that could possibly be the case.

Let me see if I can make it clearer for you. Do you think it would sully the Courts reputation if it became known that one of its clerks was sleeping with the brother of her slain colleague on the day after his murder was discovered?

I am not sleeping with him, Sara said forcefully.

That is quite beside the point. Public opinion is driven by perception rather than by fact, particularly in this town. If a newspaper reporter had seen you and Fiske leave your home this morning, what do you think the headline wouldve read? Even if it just recounted the actual facts of the reporters observations, what do you think would be the likely perception of the reading public? When Sara didnt answer, Knight continued. Right now we dont need any additional adverse complications, Sara. We have quite enough of them to deal with.

I guess I never thought that part through.

That is exactly what you must do if you want to have anything other than a mediocre legal career.

Im sorry. I wont repeat the mistake.

Knight stared hard at her, then she opened the door. Please see that you dont.

As Sara passed her, Knight added, Oh, Sara, until the identity of the murderer is definitively ascertained, I wouldnt put your complete faith or trust in anyone. Whether youre aware of it or not, a large percentage of murders are committed byfamily members.

Astonished, Sara turned to face her. Youre not implying

I imply nothing, Knight said sharply. Im only conveying a fact. You do with it what you will. *����*����* Bored, Fiske meandered through the apartment when he felt someone at his shoulder.

Theres a question Ive been meaning to ask you.

Fiske looked around. Agent McKenna was staring at him.

McKenna, Im seriously considering a lawsuit against you, so get the hell away from me.

Just doing my job. And right now I want to know where you were at the time your brother was murdered.

Fiske finished his glass of wine and then looked out the broad bank of windows. Havent you forgotten something?

Whats that?

They havent ascertained the time of death yet.

Youre a little behind in the investigation.

Is that right? Fiske said, a little taken aback.

Between three and fourA.M.Saturday. Where were you during that time?

Am I a suspect in this case?

If and when you become a suspect, Ill let you know.

I was working at my office in Richmond until about four in the morning on Saturday. Now youre going to ask me if anyone can corroborate that, right?

Can anyone?

No. But I went to the Laundromat around ten that morning.

Richmonds only a two-hour drive from Washington. Youd have plenty of time.

So your theory is I drove up to Washington, killed my brother in cold blood, dumped his body in the middle of a heavily black area, with such skill that no one noticed me do it, drove back to Richmond and washed my underwear. And the motive is? As soon as Fiske said the last sentence, his next breath caught in his throat. He had the perfect motive: five hundred thousand dollars in life insurance.Shit!

Motives can always come later. You have no alibi, which means you had the opportunity to commit the murder.

So you think I murdered Wright too? Remember, you told the justices that you think the two murders are related. I do have an alibi for that one.

Just because I said something doesnt mean its true.

Fascinating. Do you take that same philosophy with you to the witness stand?

During the course of an investigation Ive found its not always good to show your hand. The killings could be completely unrelated, which means any alibi you have for Wrights murder means nothing.

As Fiske watched McKenna walk off, a very unsettling sensation went down his spine. Even McKenna wouldnt be so stupid as to try to pin the murder of his brother on him, would he? And why hadnt Fiske known about the autopsy results ascertaining the time of his brothers death? Fiske immediately answered that question: The information flow from Chandler had dried up.

John?

Fiske turned around and looked at Richard Perkins.

Got a minute? the man asked nervously. The two men went over to a corner. Perkins looked out the window for a moment as though preparing what he was about to say. Ive only been the marshal at the Supreme Court for two years. Its a great job, prestigious, not too much stress, pays quite well. I oversee almost two hundred employees, everybody from barbers to police officers. I worked at the Senate before that, thought Id probably retire there, but then this opportunity came up.

Good for you, Fiske said, but he wondered why Perkins was telling him this.

Even though your brothers death didnt take place at the Court I felt a real responsibility for his safety, for everyone who works at the Court. Now with Wrights death, Im just reeling. Im not used to handling things like this. Im a lot better at payroll issues and overseeing the orderly functioning of bureaucracies than I am being in the middle of a homicide investigation.

Well, Chandler is really good at his job. And of course youve got the FBI on the case too. Fiske almost bit his tongue when he said this. Perkins picked up on it.

Agent McKenna seems to hold some kind of grudge against you. Have you ever met the man before?

No.

Perkins looked down at his hands. Do you really think theres some crazy out there with a vendetta?

Its not out of the realm of possibility.

But why now of all times? And why target clerks? Why not the justices?

Or other court personnel.

What do you mean?

You might be in danger too, Richard.

Perkins looked astonished. Me?

Youre the head of security. If this person wants to show that he can pick people off at will, then hes flouting the security of the Court. Hes flouting you.

Perkins seemed to consider this. So you think the deaths are definitely connected?

If theyre not, its one helluva coincidence. Frankly, I dont believe in coincidences that big.

And Chandler too?

Maybe. Im sure hell keep you informed.

As Perkins walked off, Elizabeth Knight powered by. It was as though the crowd automatically parted for her. A hand pressed against his shoulder. Meet me outside the building in ten minutes. It was Saras voice, but by the time Fiske turned around he could only see her disappearing into the crowd. Visibly frustrated, he looked around and picked up on Elizabeth Knights movements again. She probably forgot Kenneth Wilkinson was even here, he thought. At his own party too. He was thus very surprised when Elizabeth went over to Wilkinson and spoke with him briefly. He watched as she wheeled him out onto the lighted and empty terrace, where he could see her kneeling beside the wheelchair, holding one of Wilkinsons hands and talking to him. Fiske mingled a bit more and then couldnt keep himself from heading out to the terrace. Elizabeth Knight looked up and then quickly rose from her kneeling position.

Im sorry for interrupting, but I have to leave and I wanted to say hello to Judge Wilkinson.

Knight stepped back and Fiske went forward and introduced himself. He shook Kenneth Wilkinsons hand and passed along his congratulations for the elderly mans long career in public service. As he started back into the room, Knight stopped him.

I assume youre leaving with Sara.

Is that a problem?

I guess thats up to you.

Whats that supposed to mean?

Sara has a wonderful future ahead of her. But little things can sometimes disrupt careers with great potential.

You know, Justice Knight, I think you have a real problem with me, and Im not sure why.

I dont know you, Mr. Fiske. If youre anything like your brother, then maybe I dont have a big problem.

Im not like anybody else. I try not to compare people or make nice, neat assumptions. They seldom prove true.

Knight appeared taken aback by this but said, I actually agree with you.

Im glad we could agree on something.

However, I do know Sara, and I care about her very much. If certain actions you take reflect negatively on her and thus on the Court, then youre right, I do have a problem with that.

Look, all Im concerned about is finding out who killed my brother.

She looked at him keenly. Are you sure thats all?

If I werent sure, well, you know what, its a free country. Fiske thought he saw an amused expression pass across her face. She crossed her arms. You dont seem the least bit intimidated by a Supreme Court Justice, Mr. Fiske.

If you knew something about me, youd understand why.

Perhaps I should make a point of finding out about you. Perhaps I already have.

I guess that can be a two-way street.

Knights expression turned dark. Confidence is one thing, Mr. Fiske, disrespect is quite another.

Ive found that also to be a two-way street.

I hope you appreciate my concerns for Sara. They are genuine.

Im sure they are.

She started to turn away and then looked back at him. Your brother was a very special person. Highly intelligent, the consummate legal analyst.

He was one of a kind.

With that said, Im not sure he was the most able lawyer in his family.

Knight walked away, leaving a surprised Fiske behind. He stood there for a minute trying to analyze her words. Then he left the terrace and made his way down in the elevator to the lobby. He looked around but didnt see Sara. A horn beeped and he saw her car ease up to the front door. He climbed in and looked over at her. Where are we going?

To the airport.

What are you talking about?

Were going to see Samuel Rider, Esquire.

And who is Samuel Rider, Esquire?

Rufus Harmss attorney. George Barker called back with the name. I looked Rider up. He practices outside of Blacksburg, only a couple hours east of the prison. I tried his office, but there was no answer. His home phones unlisted.

So why are we flying out there then?

We have his office address. Itll be late by the time we get there, so its a long shot hell be in his office. But its also not a big town: We should be able to find somebody there who can give us his home address or at least his phone number. And if were right about his involvement, he could be in danger. If something happens to him, we may never find out the truth.

So you really think hes the one who called the Court? The one who filed the appeal?

I wouldnt bet against it.

["C43"]CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Twenty-five minutes later Fiske and Sara arrived at National Airport, and Sara pulled into one of the parking garages. After that they made their way to the general aviation terminal. Are you sure we can get a flight out? Fiske asked.

I chartered a private plane to take us there.

You did what? Do you know how much that costs?

Doyouknow how much it costs?

Fiske looked sheepish. No, I mean its not like I ever chartered a friggin plane before. But it cant be cheap.

Its about twenty-two hundred dollars for a round-trip flight to Blacksburg. I maxed out my credit card.

Then Ill pay you back somehow.

You dont have to do that.

I dont like owing people.

Fine, Im sure I can figure out lots of ways for you to pay it off. She smiled. A few minutes later they approached a small twin-engine jet sitting on the tarmac. Fiske watched as a boxy 737 lumbered down the main runway and then lifted gracefully into the air. Everywhere was the nauseating smell of jet fuel and the irritating whine of engines. Sara and Fiske headed up the steps of the sleek jet, where they were met by a man in his fifties with short white hair and a wiry build. He introduced himself as the pilot, Chuck Herman. Herman looked up at the skies. I got the flight plan filed okay, but were a little behind in the takeoff schedule. They had some delays earlier because of a software glitch in the control tower and everybodys paying for it.

Were on a short time fuse, Chuck, Sara said. The later they arrived at Riders office, the less likely it was that theyd find someone to help them. In addition, she couldnt be late for work again. Herman looked proudly at his aircraft. Not to worry. Were only talking a seventy-minute trip, and I can step on the gas if need be.

They all moved into the cabin and Herman indicated chairs for them to sit in.

Im sorry, but I couldnt get a cabin steward in here on such short notice. Do you two want anything?

A glass of white wine, Sara said.

How about you, John? Can I get you anything? Fiske declined. The fridge is fully stocked with food. Please help yourself.

Ten minutes after takeoff, the flight became very smooth, like gliding on a calm pond in a canoe. Sara unstrapped her belt and looked over at Fiske. He stared out the window at the sinking sun.

How about I fix up something to eat? And Ive got some interesting things to tell you.

Same here. Fiske unstrapped himself, followed her back and sat down at the table, where he watched Sara make up some sandwiches.

Coffee?

Fiske nodded. Something tells me its going to be a long night.

Sara finished making the food and poured out two cups of coffee. She sat down across from Fiske and looked at her watch. The flight is so short we dont have all that much time. There arent any rental car places at the airport in Blacksburg. We can take a cab to a rental place in town and get a car there, though.

Fiske took a bite of sandwich and swallowed it down with some coffee. You mentioned some things that happened at the party.

I had a run-in with Justice Knight. She recounted the story to Fiske. He then shared his own experience with Knight.

A hard woman to figure out, Fiske remarked.

Anything else?

McKenna asked me if I had an alibi for the time my brother was murdered.

Are you serious?

I dont have an alibi, Sara.

John, its not like anyone believes that you could have murdered your own brother. And how would that tie in to Stevens death?

If the two are connected.

So did McKenna have a theory as to what your motive might be?

Fiske put his coffee down. It might be good to get somebody elses view, he thought. No, but the fact is, I have a perfect motive.

Surprised, she put down her coffee. What?

I found out today that Mike had taken out a half-million-dollar life insurance policy on himself and named me as the beneficiary. That qualifies as a top-rank motive, dont you think?

But you said you just found out today.

Do you seriously think McKenna will believe that?

Thats strange.

Fiske cocked his head at her. What is?

Justice Knight said something along the lines that most homicides are committed by family members, and that I shouldnt trust anybody meaning, Im sure, you.

Was she ever in the Army that you know?

Sara almost laughed. No, why?

I was just wondering if she could have anything to do with Rufus Harms.

Sara smiled. But now that were on the subject, how about Senator Knight? He might have been in the Army.

He wasnt. I remember reading in the Richmond papers during his first Senate campaign that he was physically unable to be in the Armed Forces. His political opponent at the time was a war hero and he tried to make a big deal out of Knight not serving his country. But he did, in an intelligence capacity, good record and all, and the whole thing went away. Fiske shook his head in frustration. This is silly. Were trying to pound square pegs in round holes. He took a long breath. I hope Rider can help us. *����*����* Dressed in overalls, the man pushed the bulky cleaning cart down the hallway and then stopped outside one office, noting the stenciled lettering on the frosted glass door:SAMUEL RIDER, ATTORNEY-AT-LAW. The man cocked his head and looked around, listening intently. The office building was small and Riders law office was one of only a half dozen places of business on the second floor. At this hour, the town and the building were pretty much deserted. Josh Harms tapped against the door and waited for a response. He tapped again, this time a little louder. Josh had left Rufus in the truck parked in the alley while he reconnoitered the area. He had found the cleaning supply closet and hatched his plan in case someone showed up. He tapped on Riders office door once more, waited another couple of minutes, pursed his lips and gave a low whistle. Within twenty seconds, Rufus, who had been trailing him in the darkness of the hallway, joined him. Rufus wasnt wearing a cleaning uniform; there hadnt been one in the storage closet that came close to fitting him. Josh pulled his lock-pick equipment and within a few seconds they were on the other side of the office door in the receptionists area.

We got to move fast. Somebody might show up, Josh said. Tucked inside his belt was his pistol, fully loaded, a round chambered.

Ill look here and you go into Samuels office and start looking around.

Rufus was already going through a file cabinet using the flashlight he had brought with him from the truck. Josh went into Riders office. The first thing he did, after checking the street for activity, was close the drapes. He pulled out a flashlight of his own and started searching. He came to the locked desk drawer and jimmied it. He gave a low whistle as his hand closed around the packet that had been taped to the underside of the desk drawer. He went to the doorway. Rufus, I got it.

His brother rushed in and took the papers. He scanned them under the flashlights arc.

You still aint told me how having these pieces of paper is gonna help your butt any which way.

I aint thought that all the way through, but Id rather have them than not have them.

Well, lets get out of here before somebody hasus.

They had barely made it to the receptionist area when they both heard the footsteps, two sets of them. They glanced quickly at each other. Josh pulled the pistol and punched off the safety. Cops. They know were here.

Rufus looked at him and shook his head. It aint the cops. And it aint the Army. Buildings deserted. If it was them theyd come in here sirens going and the next sound wed be hearing is glass breaking when the tear gas canisters come through the damn window. Come on. Rufus led the way back into Riders interior office and softly closed the door. All they could do now was wait. ["C44"]CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Chandler walked around Michael Fiskes apartment. He knelt down and examined the gouge mark in the floor caused by John Fiskes swing with a tire iron. If the blow had found its mark, this mystery might have been solved. Chandler rose and shook his head. It was never that easy. His men were putting the finishing touches on the apartment. Black carbon dusting powder lay everywhere in piles like magic sprinkles, which in a way they were. They had taken Michael Fiskes prints for purposes of elimination. They would have to get his brothers as well. Since John Fiske was a lawyer licensed in Virginia, his fingerprints would be on file with the Virginia State Police. He should get Sara Evanss prints as well, he figured. She had undoubtedly been here too. He looked down the hallway. In the bedroom, perhaps? However, his inquiries had revealed only that the two had been good friends. He had met with Murphy and his clerks. They had gone over all the cases Michael had been working on. Nothing really stuck out. That line of investigation would simply take too long. And people were dying. John Fiskes unwillingness to confide in Chandler had cost him. As Fiske had earlier deduced, Chandler had cut off the flow of information to him. Chandler had played fair with the Feds, though, and passed along what he had to McKenna, including his newfound information on Rufus Harmss escape from prison and Michael Fiskes earlier calls to the prison. He had also informed McKenna of the missing appeal Fiske had told him about. McKenna had thanked him but had been unable to add any new information of his own. As if on cue, he heard a sound at the front door and the FBI agent walked into the room after showing his ID card to the uniform outside and being added to the crime scene list, Chandler assumed. Crime scene. Well, it was one of sorts, Chandler said to himself.

Youre working late tonight, Agent McKenna.

So are you. The FBI agents gaze swept the area, starting at the center and marching outward grid by grid. So, is the director of the FBI just a little bit on your butt, or a lot, to get this thing solved?

Same as your boss. In the Bureau you get double kudos if you solve the crime in time for the evening news. McKenna flashed a rare smile, although it was as though his mouth didnt know quite how to manage it, because the effect came off as lopsided. Chandler wondered if the man did it on purpose to throw people off. Because hed had a weird feeling about the guy, Chandler had discreetly checked out Warren McKenna. His career at the Bureau was first-rate in all respects. He had been assigned to the Washington Metropolitan Field Office at Buzzard Point for eight years after transferring from the Richmond Field Office. Before his career at the FBI, he had done a brief stint in the military, then completed college. Since that time McKenna had done nothing except make positive impressions on his superiors. One curious thing Chandler had found out: McKenna had refused several promotions that would have taken him out of the field.

Youre lucky John Fiske hasnt slapped you with a lawsuit yet. He still might.

Maybe he should, was McKennas surprising reply. I probably would if I were him.

Ill be sure and tell him that, Chandler said slowly. McKennas gaze darted all over the place for a couple of minutes, seemingly absorbing every detail like a sheet of Polaroid, before he glanced back at Chandler. What are you, anyway, his mentor?

Didnt know the man until a couple days ago.

You make friends a lot faster than I do, then. McKenna inclined his head at Chandler. Mind if I look around?

Go ahead. Try not to touch anything that doesnt look like its got a pound of print dust on it.

McKenna nodded and stepped carefully around the living room. He noted the mark on the floor.

Fiske going after his purported attacker?

Thats right. Only I didnt know he was purported.

He is until we have a corroborating account. At least thats how I work.

Chandler unwrapped a piece of gum and popped it in his mouth, slowly chewing over both the agents words and the gum.

Sara Evans reported to me that she also saw a man flee from the building and that Fiske was chasing him. Is that good enough for you?

Thats convenient corroboration. Fiske is one lucky guy. He should run out right now and play the lottery while hes so hot.

I wouldnt call losing your brother being lucky.

McKenna stopped walking and looked at the pantry door, which was ajar and covered with print dust. I guess it depends on how you look at it, doesnt it?

What the hell do you have against him? You dont even know the guy.

McKennas eyes flashed at him. Thats right, Detective Chandler, and you know what? Neither do you.

Chandler wanted to say something back but couldnt think of anything. In a way the man was right. This thought was interrupted by one of his men.

Detective Chandler, we found something I think you might want to see.

Chandler took the sheaf of papers from the tech and looked down at it. McKenna joined him.

Looks like an insurance policy, McKenna said.

We found it on one of the shelves in the pantry. No food in there. Guy used it for storage. Tax returns, bills and stuff like that are in there too.