The Quiet Man

by James Carol

  ‘Here’s another story for you,’ he said. ‘I once interviewed this kid in prison. He was nineteen but looked about twelve. He’d murdered his entire family. With a hammer and an electric drill. His dad, his mom, his little brother. The crime scene looked like a set from a horror movie. His first day in prison he murdered one of the other inmates. This guy had thought he was an easy mark. He was wrong. The kid managed to smash his head against the floor no less than a dozen times before the guards pulled him off. The other inmate was dead before he reached the infirmary, his skull cracked wide open. Witnesses said the kid was like a wild animal.’

  ‘Okay, I get it. If you can handle that kid, you can handle Delaney.’ She paused and took a breath. ‘Do not underestimate her, Winter. Not for a second. Do you hear me?’

  ‘Loud and clear. Do you want to wait here?’

  Anderton looked at him as though he was crazy. ‘No way. I’m coming with you.’

  ‘Are you sure? I thought you wouldn’t want to get within a hundred miles of Delaney.’

  ‘You thought wrong. And anyway, until this thing’s over we’re partners. That means I’ve got your back. Always.’

  ‘That’s good to hear.’

  ‘No, Winter, this is the point where you tell me that you’ve got my back.’

  ‘Always,’ he said.

  ‘Are you planning on wearing that T-shirt?’

  He glanced down and saw what she was getting at. TV was a visual medium. Appearances were everything. His Doors T-shirt just wasn’t going to cut it. He’d have no problems connecting with rock fans, but there were whole sections of the population that this look just wouldn’t work for.

  ‘You’ve probably got a point.’

  ‘No probably about it.’

  Winter got out of the car and opened the trunk. The white cotton shirt buried right down at the bottom of his suitcase was for emergencies. Like now. He took his Doors T-shirt off, then pulled on the shirt and buttoned it up. The leather jacket helped to make him look a little less like a second-rate office worker.

  ‘Last chance to back out,’ Anderton said.

  ‘Nope, I’m good. Okay, shall we do this?’

  8

  Anderton crossed the lot to the studio building like a woman on a mission. Her left hand kept bumping against her left hip. That was where she would have kept her gun during her cop days. They went inside and headed for the elevator. The reception area on the second floor dealt solely with traffic heading to and from the news studio. It was decorated in a way that was supposed to be cutting edge, but just looked jaded. There was lots of black. The floors, the desk, the furniture. Global’s logo featured loud and proud on the wall behind the desk.

  The assistant who met them was pretty, petite and eager to please. They did a round of quick introductions then she whisked them off to a small make-up room. Less than a minute later, Winter was sitting in a barber chair while the make-up woman dabbed on some foundation. She had just started fussing with his hair when Delaney appeared. She was as pretty and petite as the assistant, but at least ten years older. As far as Winter could tell she hadn’t had plastic surgery. It wouldn’t be long, though. Crow’s feet had started to appear at the corners of her eyes, and her skin wasn’t as elastic as it had once been. Her smile was radiant, ten thousand watts of full-on false charm. The navy pant suit was tight-fitting and flattering. She walked over to the chair with her arm outstretched.

  ‘Good to meet you, Mr Winter.’

  ‘Good to meet you, too.’

  They shook. If anything her grip was too firm, like she was overcompensating. For once Winter didn’t mind being called ‘mister’. Anderton’s warnings were still ringing inside his head. Establishing boundaries was imperative. She turned her smile on Anderton.

  ‘It’s good to see you, too, Laura.’ She stopped talking. The smile somehow grew bigger and brighter. ‘So, you’re working as a private investigator these days. That must be exciting.’

  Anderton was doing well to keep her cool. The only indication that she was rattled was the way her fingertips kept tapping against her invisible gun.

  ‘It’s good to see you, too, Charlotte. Always a pleasure.’

  Delaney stared for a second longer before breaking eye contact and turning her attention back to Winter.

  ‘Have you done any live television before?’

  ‘Some.’

  ‘Good. So you know the trick is to keep it as natural as possible. And feel free to talk. If I think you’re going on too long I’ll just jump in with another question. What I’m looking for is a portrait of the killer. I want to feel as though we’re really getting under his skin.’

  ‘No problem.’

  ‘Fantastic.’ She glanced at her watch. It was a Rolex, one from the upper end of the range. ‘We’ll be on in six minutes.’

  She flashed a last quick smile for Winter, and one for Anderton, and then she was gone, leaving a trace of perfume in her wake.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re worried about,’ he said as the door swung closed. ‘She’s a pussycat.’

  ‘No, Winter, she’s a rattlesnake. Don’t forget that.’

  9

  Winter was led across the studio to a large red sofa that had been set up in front of a green screen. Delaney was there already. A man wearing a headset was talking urgently to her, while a make-up woman was making some final tweaks to her hair. The small monitor on the floor showed what the people at home would see. It was surreal, like catching a glimpse of yourself in a parallel universe. Glance over his shoulder and all he saw was green. Glance at the monitor and there he was, sitting in a hi-tech news studio.

  Winter picked up a water glass from the table and took a sip. A microphone had been clipped to his shirt and the wire scratched across his skin whenever he moved. As a general rule, he avoided journalists. That said, if he thought it would help move a case forward then he wouldn’t hesitate about jumping into bed with one. It was like owning a pet tiger. The animal might appear tame, but at any moment it could turn around and chew your face off.

  Delaney looked over. ‘Thirty seconds,’ she whispered. ‘You okay?’

  ‘I’m fine, thanks. What about you?’

  She smiled at that. ‘I’m good.’

  Winter started a countdown inside his head. He’d been briefed by media consultants in the past, so knew the dos and don’ts. Avoid ‘ums’ and ‘ahs’ and uncomfortable silences, don’t fidget, keep hand movements to a minimum. The man in the headset had moved over to the large autocue screen. He caught Delaney’s attention and used his fingers to count down from three to one. Delaney switched on her smile and sought out the camera. There were no surprises in what she said next. It was being beamed onto the autocue in six-inch-high letters. When she spoke, her voice was two tones lower than it had been earlier. Deep, resonant, authoritative.

  ‘This evening we’re joined by ex-FBI profiler Jefferson Winter, one of Quantico’s infamous mindhunters. During his eleven years with the bureau, he worked a number of high-profile cases. Now he’s joined the hunt for the August 5 Bomber.’ She turned from the camera and looked straight at him. ‘Thank you for joining us this evening, Mr Winter.’

  ‘My pleasure.’

  ‘You’ve had a chance to review this case. What are your initial thoughts?’

  ‘The first thing that strikes me is how intelligent this person is.’

  The perfectly plucked eyebrows rose in surprise. ‘Intelligent? Would you care to expand on that?’

  ‘The police have been hunting this person for three years now and they still haven’t caught him. To stay one step ahead like that requires discipline, planning and, yes, intelligence. This is not someone who dropped out of high school.’

  ‘What else can you tell us?’

  ‘People keep referring to him as a monster. They’re wrong. He is not a monster.’

  Delaney’s smile gave way to a disbelieving chuckle. ‘I’m not sure our viewers would agree with that. So, if he’s not
a monster, what is he?’

  ‘In a word: misunderstood. As a child, he would have been neglected. Nobody listened to him. Nobody noticed him. What must that have been like? Ignored by your parents and shunned by your peers? It must have been horrendous. That’s no life for a child.’

  ‘A lot of people have bad childhoods but they don’t grow up to become serial killers.’

  ‘I’m not speaking generally here, I’m talking about the man you refer to as the August 5 Bomber. And that’s another thing. Why do people do that? Why do they need to apply labels? It turns him into a caricature. Which he’s not. He’s a living, breathing person. Let’s not forget that. All of us deserve to have a voice, Ms Delaney. All of us deserve to be heard.’

  Delaney’s smile was back. ‘That’s a fairly controversial position you’re taking. Then again, you’re no stranger to controversy. When you were eleven your father was arrested by the FBI. He was one of America’s most notorious serial killers. Over a twelve-year period he killed fifteen young women. He kidnapped them, then took them out into the woods and hunted them down with a rifle.’

  ‘Was there an actual question in there? If there was, I missed it.’

  ‘I spoke to one of your former FBI colleagues,’ Delaney continued. ‘He believes that your relationship with your father clouds your judgement. He said that you spent too much time trying to relate to the killers you were pursuing and that this could actually be counterproductive. He called you a fraud and a glory hunter.’

  Winter shook his head and shrugged and threw his arms up, the three gestures coming together to underscore his growing annoyance. ‘I’m still not hearing any questions. This is an interview, right? You ask the questions, I answer them. That’s how it works, or have I got that wrong?’

  ‘Are you a glory hunter?’

  ‘No, I’m not.’

  ‘You say that, yet here you are.’

  ‘We’re not here to talk about me. Next question.’

  ‘What about being a fraud? How would you respond to that?’

  ‘Next question.’

  Delaney smiled, then softened her voice. ‘Have you shared any of your ideas with the police?’

  ‘Not yet. If they want to talk to me, all they’ve got to do is pick up the telephone. I’d be more than happy to share my findings.’

  ‘I can’t see that happening, though. You’re working with Laura Anderton, aren’t you?’ Before Winter could respond, Delaney turned to face the camera. ‘Regular viewers will remember that Ms Anderton led the police investigation into the three murders committed so far. She was removed from the case last September.’

  Winter leant forward, pushing in toward Delaney’s space. ‘You’re not a very nice person,’ he said quietly. ‘Has anyone ever told you that?’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘You heard. So what happened? Did Daddy leave you when you were a little girl? Did Mommy shack up with someone who paid you maybe a little too much of the wrong sort of attention? Because something must have happened. It takes time to grow a chip on your shoulder as big as the one you’ve got.’

  The smile was still there, but it was starting to crack at the edges. ‘With all due respect, this interview isn’t about me.’

  ‘Why not? You’re happy enough to trash my name. And Laura Anderton’s.’ Winter shook his head sadly. ‘You want to know something? She’s ten times the person you’ll ever be.’

  ‘In your opinion.’

  ‘In anyone’s opinion.’

  ‘There are a lot of people who would disagree with you.’

  Winter smiled sweetly. ‘Not as many as you might think. Laura Anderton was a homicide detective in this city for thirty years, and she was a damn good one. Believe me, working homicide is an unforgiving task. She deserves respect. I don’t think that’s too much to ask. What’s more, I believe that anyone with a touch of decency would agree with me. Then again, you’re just a journalist, so what do you know about decency?’

  The headset guy gave a signal to wind things up. Winter reckoned he had about ten seconds. Maybe fifteen. ‘This interview’s over,’ he said.

  Before Delaney could respond he got up and walked over to the camera. The headset guy was giving the signal to cut. On the monitor, Delaney was motioning to keep filming. Winter stared the camera straight in the eye.

  ‘Tomorrow evening one of you is going to find yourself sitting on a kitchen chair with a bomb strapped to your chest. This will be the single most terrifying thing that has ever happened to you. The bomber is going to tell you that it’s wired to explode if you move. This is a lie.’

  He took another step forward. The red light on the camera was still lit. It just had to stay like that for another few seconds. The monitor was filled with a close-up of his face. His hair was wild. His green eyes were blazing. He could have been one of those fanatical Baptist preachers who traded in fire and brimstone and the comfort that came from giving yourself to Jesus Christ. His voice was calm and reassuring and totally at odds with the way he looked.

  ‘You can save yourself,’ he said. ‘All you’ve got to do is tip the chair over and keep rolling until the wire comes out of the bomb. You’re not going to want to do that, but it’s the only way you’re going to survive. Do that and you will live.’

  Winter unclipped the microphone and pulled the wire out from his shirt. He unhooked the transmitter pack from the waistband of his jeans, then dropped it on the floor and headed for the studio door.

  ‘Tell me you got all that!’ Delaney yelled as he walked away. ‘Please God, tell me you got it all!’

  10

  Anderton was waiting in the reception area, eyes glued to a television screen showing the broadcast and a cell phone glued to her ear. The focus had moved back to the main desk, where the two anchors were already discussing Winter’s abrupt exit from the interview. She saw him and quickly wound up the call.

  ‘I told you the woman was a rattlesnake,’ she said.

  ‘You did.’ He nodded toward her phone. ‘Anyone interesting?’

  ‘Just Sobek. I was giving him an update.’

  ‘And how is Mr Sobek?’

  ‘Healthy and well. He sends his regards.’

  ‘No, he didn’t.’

  She smiled. ‘Okay, maybe I made that last part up. Come on, let’s get out of here.’

  They headed back downstairs to the main reception. This time they took the stairs. Winter needed to keep moving. There was just too much adrenaline burning through his body. The second he got outside he lit a cigarette. He took a drag and exhaled a long trail of smoke. The nicotine was cool and soothing. He could feel himself coming back down almost immediately. All psychosomatic. Nicotine was actually a stimulant. And a poison. He put on his sunglasses then started walking across the lot to the Mercedes. Anderton was beside him, giving him funny looks.

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ he said. ‘It’s a bad habit and I really should quit.’

  ‘I didn’t say a word.’

  ‘You didn’t have to.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to get all preachy. I quit ten years ago. I know how hard it is. If you want to kill yourself that’s your business.’

  ‘I thought you weren’t going to get all preachy.’

  ‘Believe me, that wasn’t preachy.’ She paused. ‘Okay, what the hell was that back there?’

  Winter stopped walking and turned to face her. He could see his reflection in one of the nearby car windows. It was the face of an innocent man, someone completely transparent, someone who didn’t do disingenuous.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ he said.

  ‘Then let’s see if I can put it another way.’ Anderton hesitated as though she was struggling to find the right words. Winter could see what was happening. This was a common interview technique, one he’d used on plenty of occasions. Silence was uncomfortable. It gave time for the doubts to creep in. He waited for her to use her words.

  ‘Do you really expect me to believe that the person who
stared down the Driller Killer Kid is going to get his feathers ruffled by a journalist?’

  ‘She was saying mean things about you, Anderton. Very mean things.’

  ‘You were playing her, weren’t you?’

  ‘Like a violin.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I want this interview to be seen. Someone walks out of an interview, that’s a great way to get it all over the internet. Maximum exposure. That’s what we’re looking for here.’

  She nodded. ‘We need to get this up on YouTube. How about calling it “FBI Guy Loses His Shit”?’

  ‘Technically, I’m ex-FBI, and I didn’t really lose my shit.’

  ‘Yeah, but “Ex-FBI Guy Gets Mildly Upset in TV Interview” just doesn’t have the same ring.’

  Winter laughed. ‘I guess.’

  Anderton took out her phone and started punching the screen with her index finger. She looked up and saw Winter watching. ‘I’m texting a friend. They’ll upload the interview for us.’ She finished texting and put her phone away. ‘Thank you for defending my honour, by the way.’

  ‘You’re welcome. It’s like you said earlier. We’re partners, and partners cover each other’s backs.’

  Anderton started walking again and Winter followed, catching up within a couple of strides.

  ‘We need to talk about the elephant in the room,’ she said. ‘You weren’t completely honest with me earlier.’

  ‘That’s because I couldn’t be.’

  ‘Okay, let me ask you something. How certain are you that the killer isn’t going to fit his next bomb with a tilt switch?’

  ‘Ninety-nine per cent certain. And that’s why I couldn’t say anything.’ He paused. ‘Okay, let me ask you something. If I’d told you what I was planning to do, would you have sanctioned the move?’