'He's fine, Eema,' Sammy said. 'Like you said, if something happened, you would have heard about it.'
'What's going on over there?' Rina asked him.
'Some sort of hostage situation-'
'Fabulous!' Rina felt her head go light. She leaned against the counter. Sammy saw her face go white and gave her a chair. 'Sit down.'
'I'm all right-'
'Sit down!'
Call-waiting beeped in. Rina depressed the flash button.
'It's me. I'm fine!'
Rina broke into tears of relief as well as anger. 'Do you think you might have called and left a message?'
'They confiscated my phone. All the other phones are tied up. This
is literally the first chance I've had to get an outside civilian line. You were worried. I'm very sorry.'
She gave out a couple of choked sobs. 'It's fine.' A sniff. 'Sorry I jumped down your throat.'
'I understand. Honestly, it couldn't be helped.' 'As long as you're all right.' 'I'm fine.'
'It's good to hear your voice.'
'Same here. I love you. You heard about the situation from TV?' 'I'm looking at it as we speak.' 'Can you tell me what images they're flashing?' Rina regarded the monitor. 'Exterior shots of a group of buildings. The Order, right?'
'Yes. Same on all the stations?'
Rina picked up the remote control and searched through the networks. 'Basically.' 'No faces?' 'Not so far.' 'Good. I've got to go.' In a small voice, she said, 'I love you.'
Decker felt his throat clog. 'Baby, I love you, too. So very much. Kiss the kids for me. Tell them I love them. I mean that.' 'I know you do.' 'I don't know when I'll see you.'
He had such longing in his voice. Rina said, 'Whenever you can, it'll be right. Promise me you'll be careful.' 'Always.'
'No heroics, please?'
'Honey, they're waving to me. I've got to go.' He disconnected the line. Rina hung up the phone, realizing her hands were clammy. She rubbed them together and looked at Sammy. 'Go tell the other two they can come in from exile.' 'He's okay?'
'He's fine.' She stared at the TV. 'But he's going to be camped out there for a while. Don't expect him home until Shabbos. And maybe not even then.' 'He told you that?'
'Not in those words, but the intent was there. Unless this ends quickly. From what he told me, the cult is pretty self-sufficient. It's going to be a while.' She wiped her tears away. 'Oh my my. You never appreciate something until it's gone.'
The kitchen grew quiet.
'Go tell the others to come in, Shmuel. Yaakov must be scared out of his wits.' Rina kissed her son's cheek, then splashed water on her face. 'And put on your shoes, Sammy. It's late. Yaakov has exams. Life goes on.'
But the teen dawdled.
She looked up from the sink. 'What is it?'
'Life goes on,' Sammy repeated. 'Boy, I've heard that one before.'
'I heard the details in transit - on the car radio.' Asnikov opened the door to his outer office. 'The cops aren't saying much. The reporters assume you're playing it close to the bone. What's more likely is you don't know much. The Order has run a tight ship all these years. Not many leaks, ergo not much detail.'
Martinez said, 'Maybe you can help us on that account.'
'Don't see how.' He turned on the lights to the reception area, walked through the space, then unlocked the door to his office. He flipped those switches, then removed his jacket, draping it across the back of his desk chair. 'Now that you've got a mess on your hands, maybe you gentlemen have an understanding of what I do. I liberate human beings from these kinds of dungeons before their monstrous leaders crack up and take everybody down with them.'
With a click of the remote, Asnikov turned on a ceiling-mounted TV. The cameras were still panning across the buildings. Everything static and status quo. Sunlight was breaking through the overcast, turning the bunkers' concrete from steel to gold. The wall clock read six-thirty.
Asnikov's mandible was grinding against his upper jaw. The sound was audible. He pointed to his Stickley-styled couch with the primary-colored pillows. 'And as long as you're here, have a seat.'
Webster said, 'Sir, it would help us if you came along with us.'
Asnikov's green eyes bore into Webster's. 'Along where? You aren't taking me to your station house, are you?'
'No, sir. We'd like you to come to the Order.'
'You have a warrant to take me there?'
Martinez noticed that the deprogrammer had flinched, though not more than a fraction of a second. 'No, sir, we don't have a warrant. We're asking for a favor.'
Again, Asnikov eye's drifted back to the TV - to the metal gauntlet of law enforcement cars and vans. He spoke while watching the monitor. 'What do you think I can do for you?'
'Help us with the Order's physical layout.'
'I don't know the physical layout.' Asnikov returned his attention to Martinez. 'Those bastards have had spies out for me. I haven't been able to get within a mile of the place without someone shooting at me.'
'An exaggeration, Mr Asnikov?' Martinez asked.
The programmer smiled cryptically. It held malice and bitterness. 'What I'm telling you is I've never been inside. Believe me, I'd love to be part of the raid that breaks those sons of bitches. But I don't know anything -just like you.'
'So you're telling us that you've never helped anyone escape the premises?'
'Exactly.'
No doubt about it. Martinez knew that something was making him nervous. 'Maybe one of your people has helped someone break out?'
'Nope.' Asnikov remained adamant. 'I wish I could help...'
He let the words hang in the air.
End of conversation. Webster kept it alive with another tactic. 'What do you know about Guru Bob?'
'Why?'
'Just gathering information,' Martinez said. 'For starters, is his last name Russo?'
'Someone's done some homework. Most people think his last name is Ross. That's what he used when he was at Southwest U of Tech. He left without graduating.'
'Actually, he was kicked out,' Webster said. 'Either leave or be expelled.'
Asnikov raised an eyebrow. 'Then you know more about him than I do. In the past, I hadn't given Bob much thought. As long as I've known the Order, Pluto has been the gatekeeper. Being as infiltration is my stock and trade, I've always concentrated on how to get around him. Ignoring Bob was probably a mistake. Could be why I've had problems.'
'What do you know about Pluto?' Martinez asked.
'What do you know about him?'
'Nothing,' Martinez said. 'Right now, we're still trying to get a fix on Bob.'
Asnikov nodded. 'Pluto's given name is Keith Muldoony. He came from dirt-poor beginnings in the backwoods of West Virginia - from a big family. At one time, he was their shining star. Not only the family hero, but a role model for the entire town. Keith was a college graduate.'
'From where?'
'Community college. Nothing fancy, but considering his surroundings that was some deal. His major was psychology. He actually worked in a hospital for a year. Impressed the relatives with his job because he wore a white coat. When I talked to them, that's the first thing they told me. "Ole Keith worked in a hospital and wore a white coat." Guess a white coat is heady stuff for a kid whose relatives are either on welfare or in jail.'
'What did he do in the hospital?'
'Not much more than an orderly from what I could ascertain. Probably in the mental ward being as he majored in psychology.'
Webster said, 'It's a long way from West Virginia to the Order.'
'Yep.'
'What brought him out here?'
' Jupiter. Pluto came out to join up with him. Together, they started the Order.'
'Where'd he hear about Jupiter?'
'I don't know. But for a while it was just Jupiter and Pluto and a few, oddball followers. Venus, Nova and Bob came later on.' Asnikov took an empty coffee urn and went into the bathroom. A moment later, he started fixi
ng up six cups' worth of full-strength brew. 'He should have been next in line. Best-laid plans of mice and men...'
Martinez wasn't about to give up. 'Mr Asnikov, surely you must know some ex-Order member. Someone who can help us out with the physical layout of the place.'
'Sorry.'
'Sorry what?' Webster asked. 'Sorry, you don't know an ex-Order member, or sorry, you won't help us out.'
Asnikov's eyes went to the TV. 'We're going around in circles. Is this your idea of getting something done, or are you just putting in the hours to satisfy your boss?'
'And you don't know anything about Lauren Bolt?' Webster pressed.
'We're back to her, are we?' Asnikov smiled. 'Bunch of maniacal, murderous ghouls tell you that I kidnapped Lauren Bolt, and you believe them?' He shook his head. 'You certainly haven't learned much these past few days.'
'Why are her parents still out of town?' Martinez asked.
'Beats me.' Asnikov pointed to his inner office. 'I got a polygraph in there. I use it on prospective clients to weed out the psychos. Hook me up. Ask me questions about Lauren Bolt and/or her parents. Gentlemen, I guarantee you, you'll hit more blanks than a washed-out stud.'
Martinez tried one last time. 'Mr Asnikov, we all know your files are confidential. But we've got an exceptional situation. They're holding scores of children as hostages. Do you have children, sir?'
'Detective, I'm on your side. I happen to be familiar with some of the young adults in there.' 'Who?'
'They are ongoing cases. I can't tell you because of confidentiality. And even if I did tell you, it wouldn't help. Because they're still on the inside, and that fact is a testament to my failure!' No one spoke. The coffeemaker gurgled.
Asnikov's jaw bulged as he poured himself a cup of full-strength espresso. 'What do you want from me? I know bits and pieces. But if I tell you some misinformation and that causes a major screw-up, not only will my reputation be justifiably ruined but I'll feel personally responsible for every life that's lost. Wait them out. That's what I do. I wait until I know what I'm doing.'
'Waiting is good - if you have time!' Martinez said. There was strain on Asnikov's face - the humiliation of failure. Webster felt he was on the break point. He said, 'Sir, why don't you just come down and give us your insights into the Order. You've been studying the group a lot longer than we have.'
'I don't want to be part of your raid. Because I know you're going to screw up. I have absolutely no confidence in law enforcement.'
Webster started to speak, but Martinez held him back. Bert pulled out a card. 'Fair enough. If you change your mind, give me a call. Or better still, feel free to drop by the Order. As long as we have this situation, you've got a standing invitation.'
Asnikov put the card in his breast pocket. 'I suppose it's to my credit that you think I know so much.' His face became grave. Again, his eyes went to the TV. 'My sister died at Jonestown... along with my niece - a three-year-old with a cherub face and beautiful curls. My parents have never recovered from their deaths.' He finished his coffee and opened the office door. 'I'm not without empathy.'
Decker squinted into the sun, then tented his eyes under a roof of fingers. 'So you're telling me that Asnikov's hiding something?'
Martinez said, 'No, I said I think he is-'
'Then sic a judge on him!' Decker said. 'I'm not playing footsies when there are lives at stake! We got the law behind us, i.e. eminent danger to an individual or individuals outweighs patient/doctor confidentiality. Let's use it.'
'Loo, we don't know anything definite,' Webster said. Decker turned to Tom. For once, permapressed Southern boy looked wilted. 'So Asnikov wasn't hiding anything?' 'Maybe he was acting a little cagey-'
'What does that mean?' Decker was trying to keep the edge out of his voice, but it wasn't working.
Webster told Decker Asnikov's parting line - a sister and three-year-old niece who died in Jonestown, Guyana. 'Something like that in your history is like a personal connection to every kid holed up in a cult. I think he'd help, but confidentiality is holding him back.'
'So we'll take the decision out of his hands. Let's get a subpoena to search his files.'
Martinez said, 'Even when we get one, Loo, it's going to take time to go through all his files.'
Decker stared at the bunkers. 'If Bob decides to hunker down for the long run, we'll have lots of time.'
Martinez chewed the ends of his thick mustache. 'If Bob decides to hunker down...'
'If,' Decker repeated. He checked his watch. Seven-thirty. He'd been up for over twenty-four hours. His heavy eyes lifted from his wrist and landed on an FBI van. McCarry was inside, updating his boss. The agent wasn't a bad sort. But he was an inconvenience: another body with another set of orders. Someone who could
screw things up. Decker supposed McCarry felt the same way about him.
Martinez said, 'What now?'
Decker said, 'Go out and file a petition for the subpoena. At least, you'll be doing something. Me?' Decker pointed to his chest. 'I sit around, scratch my balls and wait.'
'Kinda like baseball players,' Webster remarked.
'Wish I made their money.'
'Bob hasn't made phone contact?' Martinez asked.
'Not in the last four hours.'
More silence... mind-numbing silence.
Webster said, 'Where's Europa?'
'We sent her home.'
'Why?'
Decker shrugged. 'No new insights. She pretty much told me what she had told you. We've got her pager number if something comes up. But there was no reason to keep her here. Especially since Bob didn't want to talk to her.'
He stuck his hands in his pockets, brushed loose bits of packed dirt
with the tip of his shoe.
'I thought she might have been able to flush him out. From the looks of things, Bob doesn't want to talk to anyone. The inactivity is making the Brass nervous. Both LAPD and fed SWAT teams are talking raid.'
Martinez looked at the buildings. From his perspective, they resembled fortified castles. 'How are they planning to break in?'
'Maybe freeze the bars, break them off and shoot some canisters of tear gas through the windows, then find someone small enough to crawl inside. First, they're trying to figure out if the windows are electrically hot-wired and/or attached to detonators.'
'How do you do that from a distance?'
'Beats me. I'm no weapons expert. They've got scanning machines, they've got every conceivable weapon and the latest in high-tech gismos. What they don't have is an insider's knowledge. You get us an insider from Asnikov's files, you give us one hell of a magic bullet'
Silence.
Ten seconds...
Twenty seconds...
A minute...
Decker's eyes shifted from the lifeless compound to the buzzing press area. The hordes were being contained by a band of yellow tape, a half-dozen police officers, and a lot of psychology.
'Which judge do you want us to wake up, sir?' Webster asked.
Decker gave him a name, then an alternate if the first wasn't available.
'Do you have a phone number?' Martinez asked.
'In my office.' Decker fished into his pocket for a ring of keys. 'Marge and Scott are there now... at the station house. I should say they were there. I told them to come here around ten minutes ago. They arrived back in town while you two were interviewing Asnikov.'
Webster said, 'Why're you bringing them out here? I thought you wanted them out of the way so they could work independently.'
'Captain's orders. He wants their input because Scott and Marge have both been inside the compound.'
Again no one spoke. The trio stared at the buildings, their skin tone pallid from lack of sleep and a wash of dirty sunlight. Again, Decker checked his watch - seven thirty-eight. Talk about time slowing to a crawl. Maybe in a former life, Einstein had been part of a multi-disciplinary law enforcement task force in a no-win hostage situation. Then again, Albert had probably ha
d lots of empty hours as an employee of the postal system in Switzerland. Back then, disgruntled clerks didn't have guns, so things must have been pretty damn slow in the mailroom.
McCarry was still conferring with his colleagues.
Decker was still waiting for Bob to call.
Very, very quiet.
'The key, Loo?' Webster asked.
Faye Kellerman - Decker 11 - Jupiter's Bones Page 30
