I’m fine with getting out of here early, and when I agree, Richard thinks I’m being gracious. I’m trying to remember the last time I was gracious, but I can’t think back that far.
I head home to discuss the latest developments with Laurie. She thinks that Marcus should go with me to meet with Blackman. “A lot of people have died, Andy. Diaz, Parker, Reese, Juanita Diaz, and probably Mathis. If you’re viewed as a threat, and Blackman is involved, they could want you out of the way.”
I ordinarily want Marcus around whenever there is a chance that someone might inflict pain on me; I’ve even considered bringing him to the dentist. But in this case I’m afraid having Marcus there will send the wrong message. Besides, since I have made it obvious to Blackman that I know the FBI is involved, he’d have to assume it’s a two-way street, and that the FBI would be aware of my own involvement.
That gives me some immunity, at least at this point. “Killing me would cause them problems,” I say. I don’t like sentences that come out of my mouth with the phrase “Killing me” in them, and I’m starting to change my mind as Laurie responds.
“Killing you would cause you some problems as well,” she points out.
I decide to bring Marcus along, but have him wait in the reception area. I will set my cell to text message him, so that all I have to do is press Send if I need him.
It’s only a twenty-minute ride to Blackman’s office at Blaine Pharmaceuticals, but that’s the equivalent of four hours in “Marcus minutes.” Even after all this time, being alone with Marcus makes me extremely uncomfortable, and it’s fair to say that the time does not exactly fly by when we are in a car together.
We’re there at six-thirty, and the place is basically empty; people do not seem to work overtime here at Blaine. Blackman actually comes out to the modern reception area himself to greet me. I introduce him to Marcus, who gives him the Marcus stare. Based on Blackman’s face when he sees Marcus, I think he might confess right here in the lobby.
When we get back to his office, I get right to it. “I’m going to be straight with you,” I say, a sure tipoff that I have no intention of being close to straight with him. “What you do in the next twenty-four hours will determine whether you spend the rest of your life in prison.”
“I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“You sound like an inmate already,” I say. “Here’s what the FBI knows. They know that people are dying from the pills that Daniel Mathis created. They know that those pills were stolen, and they know that you prevented Mathis from reporting that theft.”
“That’s not true,” he says. “I—”
“I’ve got to be honest with you,” I say. “You’re starting to bore me. I’m not telling you what the FBI thinks. I’m telling you what they know. So if you’re just going to keep with the bullshit denials, we can stop talking now.”
He thinks for a moment, then, “Go on.”
“What they don’t know, but what I do know, is that Reynolds put you up to it. But you need to say that, and say it fast, because if you try and protect Reynolds, even one time, even for a moment, then you’re part of the conspiracy, and part of the cover-up. And then you’ll spend the next forty years talking to your wife through a glass window, if she bothers to show up at all.”
“I didn’t know why the pills were stolen, or who took them. I still don’t.”
“Fascinating, but that’s not enough,” I say. “You have to give them Reynolds.”
“What is your role in this?”
“I have a client who will go to jail if the truth does not come out. So I’m going to see that it does, one way or the other. If you’re smart, it will be through you.”
“I need to think about this,” he says.
“You better think quick. The FBI is going to move on you tomorrow. You’re a hell of a lot better off if you go to them.”
“I understand,” he says. “I understand.”
He said it twice, I suppose in an effort to make me think that I really believe him. Which I really do. Which I really do.
I leave and go back to the lobby, where Marcus is waiting for me. I say. “It’s set up.… So you’re on him twenty-four/seven, okay?”
“Yunh,” says Marcus, and I couldn’t have said it any better.
Blackman has a few choices now, none of which will be appealing to him.
He can take me at face value and tell the FBI everything he knows. I doubt that will happen, because the last time someone took me at face value, there were pay phones on every corner and people were buying encyclopedias.
He can do nothing, and hope it will all go away. This would be predicated on his seeing me as an outsider, with my own agenda, that he has no reason to further. I don’t think this is likely; he is no doubt a smart guy, and I suspect one who has been a pawn in this whole thing. One way or the other, he’s got to make a move.
His third option is the most likely. He’ll probably turn to Reynolds, both to find out what he knows about this, and to receive advice on what to do. Whether or not he ultimately takes that advice, chances are he’ll want to hear it.
If he chooses door number three, I think it likely that he will be killed. The conspirators have shown an inclination to eliminate those with knowledge of their operation. Laurie was right when she suggested Marcus should come with me because I was in danger: people who know what is going on are in fact dying.
I could have warned him about this, but I didn’t because I need him to make his own decision. That’s the only way I can place his role in the conspiracy. And he certainly should be aware by now of whom he is dealing with in Reynolds.
But I’m still feeling a little guilty that there is a chance I’ve set Blackman up to be killed, so I’ve taken steps to prevent it from actually happening. Marcus is going to watch him and intervene if he is in danger. Marcus is a really good intervener.
So I put Blackman in danger, and now I’m saving him. Andy Carpenter has the power to giveth life, and taketh life away.
Marcus has instructions to keep me informed if anything happens, or appears about to happen. Of course, I won’t get the message immediately if it happens while court is in session, but there’s nothing I can do about that.
Richard surprises me before court by announcing that he will be concluding his case this morning. Since he had told Judge Matthews and me that it would likely go a day or two longer, and since today is Friday, she tells me that if I would like, I can delay starting the defense case until Monday. My preference would be to start it in January, but I don’t have that option, so I tell her that Monday it is.
Richard points out that he has not received a defense witness list as yet, and I respond by admitting that the defense case is a work in progress.
I have decided not to preview my case to the judge to determine admissibility. I’m going to go ahead as if there is no question but that our information is relevant, and only defend it when challenged. But it will, of course, be challenged.
In the process of doing that I will be springing a surprise on Richard, not the nicest way I can handle it. But he’s a big boy, and his life will go on. If I don’t win, then Pete’s life as he knows it is over.
So basically, I have no interest in being nice.
Richard burns through two quick witnesses, both lab technicians who testify to the collection methods and test results regarding the search warrant, drugs, gloves, etc. I let them basically go unchallenged; I wouldn’t damage them anyway, and they are fairly harmless to our case.
Richard’s last witness is Chief Franklin Carnow, Pete’s immediate boss in the department. Carnow is six foot four, 220 pounds, and looks like central casting’s version of a police chief. He’s even got a cleft that makes Kirk and Michael Douglas look flat-chinned.
Chief Carnow is a good witness for Richard to end with, because of what he has to say, but more importantly because of who he is. Carnow is widely respected for his toughness, honesty, and integrity, and he is rumored to be the frontrunn
er in next year’s mayoral election. At forty-two years old, he has a long time to work his way up the political ladder.
“Did Captain Stanton report directly to you?” Richard asks.
“Yes, sir.”
“And what did you think of him?”
“I’ve always held him in the highest regard, personally and professionally.” Carnow looks right at Pete as he says this.
“You still do?”
“I’m waiting until all the facts are in.”
Richard’s letting Carnow praise Pete is a smart move; it makes the negative things he is going to say more credible, since he obviously has no interest in sandbagging Pete.
“Did you meet with Captain Stanton the day that Danny Diaz was murdered?” Richard asks.
“Yes, sir.”
“What was the purpose of that meeting?”
“To tell him that Mr. Diaz had provided the department with information that implicated Captain Stanton in some kind of illegal activity. That I wanted him to be aware of this, and that he should cooperate with an internal affairs investigation that was to begin.”
“What was his reaction?”
“As you might expect, he was very upset.”
“Angry?”
Carnow seems to hesitate, as if reluctant to go further. He is inadvertently making it worse for Pete by doing this. “I would describe him as angry, yes. And bewildered.”
“Did you have any advice for him?”
“I said that he should not have contact with Mr. Diaz in any fashion, at least until this was resolved, and probably after that.”
“And what did he say?”
“He said nothing.”
“Were you concerned that he would not take your advice?”
Another hesitation, then, “I was … yes.”
My cross is a brief one. “Chief, what did Mr. Diaz say when you called to warn him, after your meeting with Captain Stanton?”
“I did not call him.”
I once again feign surprise, this time with a slight double take and head turn. It’s a move I have perfected over time. “So you just assigned security to him, and figured they would protect him?”
“I did not assign any security to him.”
“You mean even after seeing how angry Captain Stanton was, you didn’t think Mr. Diaz was in danger?”
“I did not. That is correct.”
I am sure that Carnow is a sympathetic witness to Pete; he is just there to tell the truth, and not happy about it. So I give him a chance to help us.
“Tell me if this statement is true, Chief Carnow. You weren’t worried for Diaz’s safety, because you considered Captain Stanton a fine cop who would not take the law into his own hands.”
“That is true.”
“Thank you, Chief.”
Sam is waiting for me when I get home.
I’ve asked him to work his computer magic from here today, because the timing is so important. He is monitoring Blackman’s phones, to see if he calls Reynolds, or anyone else relevant to our investigation. Laurie is with him, and has obviously already heard what I’m about to hear.
“He called Reynolds,” Sam says. “About an hour ago.”
“Did he call anyone else we care about? By that I mean us or the FBI.”
“No.”
I turn to Laurie. “You told Marcus, right?”
“Yes.”
“Where is Blackman now?”
“Marcus said he’s at home. Hasn’t budged all day. No visitors either.”
“Okay. He knows the drill.” By that I mean that Marcus is to call us if Blackman leaves the house, or if anyone shows up to see him.
Blackman’s calling Reynolds doesn’t prove conclusively that Blackman is not going to cooperate with us, since he works for the guy. For all I know, they could be talking about a new Blaine drug to treat canine dandruff.
He also could be doing the honorable thing and giving Reynolds the courtesy of hearing that Blackman is going to the FBI. It’s considerably less likely that this is what he’s doing, but possible.
Rather than just pace and wait for a Marcus call that might never come, I decide to begin figuring out what I’m going to do in court Monday when the judge tells me to call my first witness. But before I do that, I head up to Ricky’s room, where he’s playing with his ever-expanding collection of toys.
I’m finding I’m enjoying spending time, short as it is, with Ricky. I’m more comfortable with him now than I was before, and more used to having him around. This may reflect badly on me, but I’m seeing him more as a person, and less as a child object.
He’s smart and has a pretty good sense of humor for someone his age. Of course, he’s the only person his age I’ve known since I was his age, so I may not be the best judge of age-appropriate smartness and humor.
I feel bad that he’s been cooped up in our house so much. He’s almost under house arrest as much as Pete is, and neither deserve it. It’s only fair that he get on with the rest of his life, though it’s still to be determined where and with whom that life will be lived.
I figured I’d spend fifteen minutes with him, but it turns into forty-five, as he ropes me into another video game. He destroys me three straight times, but I don’t bother claiming he was lucky. Both he and I know better.
I finally leave and start working on the case. I’m certainly going to try and tell the jury the story of Daniel Mathis and his euthanasia drug, and how I believe it has been used to commit murders. They need to know about Reynolds, and Parker, and all the rest.
But even assuming the judge admits it, I still need people to get up on the witness stand and answer my questions. That is the way stories are told in trials. And I have a real shortage of witness possibilities, and maybe none who know the whole picture.
I certainly can’t rely on Blackman, at least not yet. I guess the closest I have to the right person is Lieutenant Coble, though I have kind of frozen him out by going to the FBI. I call him, so that I can bring him up to date. I need to stay on his good side, to get him to testify for us.
“You went to the FBI, asshole?” is how he gets on the phone. I don’t think the Andy Carpenter charm is working on him so far, and it is certainly not overcoming the natural distrust that local and state police often have for the Feds.
“They were already on it,” I say. “A friend of Daniel Mathis went to them.”
I don’t think he buys it. “So why are you coming to me now?”
“To let you know what’s going on. That was our deal, right? We exchange information, so you can solve this thing, and testify for me.”
“Good luck with that,” he says.
I let that slide. I’ll be calling him, but this is not the time to argue about it. Instead I tell him almost everything, though I certainly leave out the part about believing that Blackman might be killed, and sending Marcus to prevent it.
“I think we can blow this open,” I say.
“We?”
“Yes, we. I don’t trust the FBI to do anything fast, or anything at all, for that matter. I need your help. We need to stop these people. You need to stop these people. And starting Monday, the world finds out about them, and what they have done.”
We talk for a while more, and I actually think I make progress with him, probably for three reasons. One is my legendary power of persuasion. Two is the fact that his job and his goal is to put bad guys in prison. And three is the obvious fact that if he can take the credit for ending a murder ring of this magnitude, he will be hailed as a hero.
So for now it’s back to going over the documents for what seems like the hundredth time, and waiting for Marcus to call.
And then, at nine-thirty p.m., he does call. Laurie answers, since she’s basically the only person who can understand a word he says. When she gets off the phone, the message she relays is a simple one:
“Blackman is on the move.”
Marcus said that Blackman is heading in the general direction of Alpine.
<
br /> I’m going to assume that he’s going to Reynolds’s house, so Laurie and I get in the car and head toward there as well. She has her cell phone, and if Marcus sees that Blackman is going somewhere else, he will call her, and we’ll adjust.
Sam is staying back with Ricky. He’s not thrilled about it; he wants to be where the action is. I had to choose between Laurie and Sam to go with me, and it was not a tough choice. Laurie carries a gun, and Sam carries a computer. Besides, Ricky is already asleep, so it should be fine all around.
Marcus calls back, but only to report that Blackman has made a turn that confirms he’s heading toward Reynolds’s house, so we continue there as well. Laurie says that we should park nearby and approach the house on foot, because we won’t know what we’re walking into, or what Marcus is doing. So that’s what we do.
I’m not too worried at this point, as we are walking up the dark street toward Reynolds’s house. I’ve got Marcus and Laurie with me, and the other side has two middle-aged businessmen. That’s not to say I’m thrilled with the situation, but I do feel like I should be here.
That feeling changes rather quickly, and all it takes is the sound of one gunshot. In the otherwise completely silent night air, it sounds like an explosion, and the echoes from it almost make me think that there are subsequent shots. But there were not, or at least I think there were not.
Almost as if the gunshot were from a starter’s pistol, Laurie is running toward the house. I assume she has her gun drawn, but she’s in front of me, and it’s dark, so I can’t be sure.
The fact is that it is not my instinct to run toward gunshots; my natural tendency would be to run the other way, or curl into the fetal position and whimper. But I’m also not thrilled to be left alone in the dark surrounded by dangerous people with guns, so I take off at something less than a full sprint after Laurie.
The house comes into view, which doesn’t clear up much for me. I can see that there are lights on inside, and I can see Laurie approaching the house, but there are no other people around, not even Marcus.
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