Evidence is crucial. For everything to work, Simon had to have a garrote, preferably two, in Delaney’s trunk. Timing was everything. If he planted the garrote too early, there was a chance that Delaney might find it. If he waited and missed his opportunity, then Delaney might head to the rendezvous without the damning evidence. Without a murder weapon he could not ensure a conviction. He did not destroy the garrote after the August 8th murder, so he could plant it, and that had caused him his only real nervousness. Although well-hidden, it was still dangerous—he did not even clean it, so it still had Alfred Weiss’ blood on it.
Simon broke into Paul Delaney’s car several times before, on moonless nights, at 3:45 in the morning. Both times, the apartment complex where Delaney lived was eerily quiet. With practice he could open the driver’s door and pop the trunk in twenty-two seconds. This was a great improvement over the almost-two minutes it took him the first time he tried.
After he killed László Kovács, Simon was able to open the driver’s side door with ease. Just as he popped the trunk, sirens blasted through the silence of the night. Simon’s heart starts to race as he remembers it vividly. He instantly rolled under the SUV parked next to Delaney’s car and wriggled on his stomach and out the other side. His throat was tightening, making it difficult to breathe. He crouched low between the SUV and another car and quickly looked in all directions for movement and for an escape route. He centered his weight, so he could spring into attack mode, if necessary. With a sigh of relief, Simon realized the siren was from a police car on the main street and not in the apartment complex. The tightness in his throat took a long time to dissipate as he stayed motionless between the two vehicles. He quickly scanned all of the adjacent windows, looking for lights to come on. There were none. He waited a long five minutes, crouched low, before he quickly placed the last two garrotes and gently shut the trunk. Simon then disappeared into the dark.
Now he can celebrate. His task is done. His promise fulfilled. He has vindicated his grandparents suffering and his father’s premature death. Paul Delaney is sure to be convicted and the FBI will go away.
The waitress appears and places his plate before him. He stares at the perfectly prepared steak and is unable to say thank you. His field of vision narrows as he begins to hyperventilate.
“Sir?”
He leans forward and puts his elbows on the table and then braces his forehead in his hands.
“Sir? Are you OK?”
He does not hear the question. In his mind the entrée is his last meal he deserves before they walk him up to the gallows and place the noose around his neck.
“Sir? Can you hear me? Are you OK?”
Simon slowly raises his head and sees the waitress and several of the neighboring patrons staring at him. He removes a one hundred dollar bill from his wallet and places it in the table and then leaves the restaurant.
Chapter 50
Looking out the window, Jamie watches the traffic move along the highway. She turns and smiles at Seth, who maneuvers easily through the traffic, his attention fully on driving. Jamie cannot help but think how adorable he looks, especially right now.
It dawns on Jamie that the last time she had driven on this road was her trip to Philadelphia. That trip had been such a success in several ways—finding a missing victim and then hooking up with Seth. Strange, Jamie thinks to herself, as she realizes it has been three months since Paul Delaney was sentenced to multiple life sentences in prison for the murders of Alfred Weiss and László Kovács.
Jamie was present at the closing arguments at the end of the trial. The Feds’ case was tight and convincing. The evidence was incontrovertible. The only part that did not fit was the last victim. Although he was in Europe during the war, Jamie could not find anything that connected him with the Nazis. Kovács was in Kosice, Hungary, as part of the Hungarian Police for the duration of the war. Jamie did not understand why he was targeted by Delaney.
The case drew national attention, and Fredericks gave Jamie a nice pat on the back at a celebratory happy hour on the Friday after the arrest. By Monday morning, it was all forgotten—she passed him in the hallway and did not even get a smile. But that is how it goes in the Bureau. Monday had brought its new cases and new stresses, and she would go on with nothing but the personal satisfaction of a job well done. Or so she had thought. About a month later, Fredericks called her into his office and said that he had recommended her to fill an opening in the Dallas field office. It would include a step-up in GS number, which would mean a raise and an opportunity for advancement.
Jamie likes being at Quantico. She is also getting very serious with Seth. They have now been dating eight months. Jamie turned down the transfer.
“We’re almost there,” Seth says, smiling at Jamie.
Seth has arranged a day trip to Baltimore. They visited the Edgar Allan Poe House and are now stopping off to see Seth’s grandmother, who lives in Baltimore, in a fancy condominium. It is designed for aging seniors who start out living independently. As their needs increase, they can take advantage of added services, all the way up to 24-hour care. Of course, residents pay for what they use. Mrs. Cooper, who will be celebrating her ninety-third birthday in another month, is incredibly independent. She takes advantage of the housekeeping services, has a nursing assistant help her bathe, and has her groceries bought and delivered by the concierge, but otherwise she takes care of herself. Jamie has never met her before. After the visit, they are going to go out for dinner at a waterfront restaurant on Baltimore’s Inner Harbor.
Seth pulls up to the front of the building, where they are met by a valet. As they enter a foyer that would make the Ritz Carlton feel ashamed, Seth can see that Jamie is taking in the attention to detail.
“The cheapest unit is over half-a-million, and the basic condo fee is over $1,800 a month. That’s without any extra services,” Seth explains because he knows Jamie is curious.
“Impressive.”
They make their way up the elevator to Seth’s grandmother’s unit. Seth lets himself in with his key, then knocks on the door and announces his presence. As they enter the spacious condo, Jamie knows that this is not one of the cheapest units.
Seth’s grandmother is sitting and watching a large television, which she immediately clicks off.
“Hey, Grandma, this is Jamie Golding,”
“She is beautiful, Seth!” Grandma exclaims. “Come sit. I will get us some tea,” Grandma declares, already heading for the kitchen. She is wearing a short-sleeved floral house dress that reminds Jamie of a muumuu. She stops on her way and changes course toward the blinds. I’ll add some light to the room.” She pulls the blinds easily, revealing a wall of windows that afford an incredible view of the harbor. Jamie walks over to admire the scene.
“This place must cost a fortune,” she says softly to herself, as she motions to Seth to come look. “I’m impressed.”
When Mrs. Cooper returns with the tea, Jamie notices a very conspicuous number tattooed on her forearm. She acts like she does not see. They exchange pleasantries for a few minutes, Seth doing most of the talking and Jamie sitting politely next to him.
Seth’s cell phone rings. He looks down at it, then at Jamie. “I’ve gotta take this, it’s Barry. There may be a problem at the lab. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”
“Sure,” Jamie nods.
Seth answers the phone and walks out of the room. Jamie smiles at Mrs. Cooper, but the silence is awkward.
What am I supposed to talk to her about? I would love to ask her about her tattoo, but I don’t dare.
Jamie looks around for something to compliment or use as a springboard for conversation. On the coffee table is a book entitled Memoir of the Holocaust, by Lola Englemann.
Jamie is instantly curious. She gestures to the book with a, “May I?”
“Please, that is why I wrote it.”
“You wrote it? These are your memoirs?”
“Yes.”
Opening the b
ook, Jamie begins to read.
I am a Jew. I was born in the city of Poproc, not far from Kosice, when it was originally part of Slovakia in the year 1921. Later, after World War I, Slovakia became a part of Czechoslovakia. During those days, you either told people you were Czech or Hungarian, since the Slovaks were more anti-Semitic. I was raised by my mother and her parents, as my father had disappeared from our family not too long after I was born. Even today, I don’t know what happened to my father. Mother rarely spoke of him, and my grandparents never did.
Jamie pauses after the second paragraph. She knows that city, Kosice. That was where the last victim immigrated from to the U.S.
“So you lived near Kosice?”
“Yes, I was born right outside of Kosice,” Grandma confirms with a smile.
Jamie perceives that the old woman is excited to talk about her life. She can hardly hold back the question on her mind. “Did you ever know or hear of László Kovács?”
Instantly, Mrs. Cooper stops cold, as if stuck in a past vision. Her face goes pale, and her eyes darken with a fear that is mixed with defiance. “I will never forget that name,” she whispers, barely audible. “I will never forget how he beat my mother, grandmother, and grandfather. How he beat me. Kovács stole everything his filthy hands could take away from my family.”
She pauses, her eyes still witnessing the memories of the past.
“Crazy thing was, László was the brother of a good friend of my brother when they were younger. They would play in the fields with us. I remember that, when he turned eighteen, he joined the police force. It’s amazing that you can put a uniform on a kid, and he changes into a monster who beats the innocent…” Grandma pauses again, her mind wandering through the images of her pain.
“He was recently murdered.”
“Good for him. He sent me to hell; now he can burn in hell. My late son, Milton, spent his life trying to prove that there were Nazis hiding out in America. All I wanted was for him to go after László Kovács. Get him deported or something. That man took my whole family away. I was the only survivor,” Grandma continues, unaware of the effect her words are producing on Jamie.
“Your son was a Nazi hunter?”
“A damn good one. It was the system that was the problem. He never took any credit himself. He did the work and handed the information over to the authorities. He had files on hundreds of these monsters.”
“Whatever happened to those files?”
“I think Seth has them, or had them. I knew Seth would never keep it up. These things diminish with every generation. It’s okay. They’ll get what they deserve in hell.”
Jamie can only half-listen as her mind puts the pieces of the puzzle together.
Seth.
Jamie can hardly breathe as she looks up and sees Seth standing in the room. When did he come in? Everything is a blur, a tangle of slow-motion images happening outside of Jamie, existing without regard to the devastation being realized inside of her.
Grandma is still talking; unaware of Jamie’s struggle, she continues, “I just wanted nothing else but to see justice to those who murdered and maimed. Kovács was the one who evicted us from our home and sent us to the ghetto, and then to Auschwitz. My whole family. Only I survived.”
Jamie looks to Seth, asking the question without words, her eyes entreating him to say something—anything—that will stop her from reaching the horrifying conclusion. His face pales considerably, and Jamie’s eyes grow wider, desperate for an explanation, begging him not to confirm what she now knows to be true.
Seth stares blankly ahead.
“Seth, dear, are you alright?” Mrs. Cooper asks.
No response. Seth continues to stare straight ahead as he puts his hand on his throat and swallows hard. His field of vision begins to narrow.
Jumping up from her chair and brushing away the memoir, Jamie crosses the room to Seth and demands, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions, “Give me your keys.”
Seth tries to protest, but no words come out of his mouth. He holds out the keys to Jamie.
Jamie reaches for the keys and easily takes them from him. Quickly taking her things, Jamie leaves the condo without saying goodbye. While she waits for the elevator, she glances back, half-expecting Seth to come out and stop her. He does not. Downstairs, she jumps into the car and slams it in gear. Wheels screeching, Jamie pulls out and drives away.
Jamie does not know what to feel as tears start flowing down her cheeks. Her mind is a frantic collection of thoughts. She cannot believe it. He could not have done it. No, her instincts are wrong. Yet, the grandmother, her reaction to Kovács, Seth’s father hunting down Nazis, Seth knowing forensics, and, most condemning, Seth’s pause, his eyes and mind searching for an answer and confessing without saying anything. That confession was all the confirmation she needed. She reaches for her cell, anxious to call someone. Anyone. She briefly considers calling Rabbi Silverman but immediately puts the phone away.
Jamie finds herself pulling into the parking lot of the NCAVC. She enters the building and heads up to her office. She has no evidence and she knows it. Immediately, she boots up her computer, anxious to figure out how she ended up with Paul Delaney. Jamie quickly reviews Delaney’s criminal record. She researches further and discovers that he was accused and acquitted of rape, due to a rape kit that had not been properly handled. A conscientious lab tech reported the rape kit as being contaminated. Jamie’s eyes freeze on the name of the lab tech. Seth Cooper.
That case alone probably put him onto the fast track to becoming lab supervisor. That is how he got the job and not Barry Shapiro. It showed that Seth is honest, ethical, and by-the-book, and he is not easily swayed by emotion. Why not promote such a worthy candidate? But Jamie is still sure Seth never forgot that his honesty allowed a guilty man to walk free.
Not once has her work made her sick. She grabs the garbage can from next to her desk and throws up.
Chapter 51
Seth walks through the airport, following the masses of people being herded toward the security checkpoint.
This is it. He quit his job and has been in Jamaica for the last two weeks.
Jamie knows, and there was no way to convince her otherwise. He does not need the work. He could never imagine the thought, but what he does need is to be far away from Jamie.
He has the familiar knot of fear in his stomach as he walks up to the security desk and presents his passport. It is his own passport and not a fake. He makes it through with the guard’s warm wishes for a nice flight.
As the plane lands at Reagan International Airport, he recalls another flight he once took. As the plane was taxiing to the gate, the captain came on the intercom and asked all of the passengers to remain in their seats and allow law enforcement officers to board the plane. They arrested the man sitting right in front of Seth and escorted him off the plane.
No such request comes over the intercom today.
He makes his way up the gangway to the terminal, expecting to see them waiting for him.
Reaching the doorway that leads outside to the streets, Seth stops and takes a long deep breath. It seems like he has not breathed that deeply in years. He hails a cab and disappears into the highway traffic.
The memoir throughout this book is based on the actual experience of Lola Engelmann-Stark, may she live and be well, who bears the tattoo A-14191 on her left arm as a constant reminder of the horrors she lived through.
All of the codes presented in this book are true and verifiable.
Acknowledgements
The Esther Code has benefitted from many talented people. First and foremost, I must thank Sarah Holst, my co-author, who I met in a most unfortunate setting that turned out to be such a blessing. Paige Stover mentored me from the very beginning and enabled me to build the foundation. Michael Rechtman never believed in me. The drive to prove him wrong got me to this point.
A special thanks to Ilana, Lev, Carmelle, Rafael, and Nissim who are the
very fabric of my life and to the Creator of the Universe who has sustained me to see this day.
Wesley Harris of writecrimeright.com read the manuscript for accuracy in FBI procedure. Karen Bonner, Amy Maslia, and Alicia Haley were brutally honest critics.
Thank you to Billy Satterwhite at the English Island for editing. You are terrific!
Thank you to Kristie Birdsong for the cover.
To Ann Stark and Lola Stark for details of holocaust experiences that were the basis of the memoir.
Gene Hollahan read a very rough draft and offered his wisdom. Thank you Jennifer Moore for introducing us.
To the staff of the EP lab who will finally get their copy. No James, I did not put you in the book. You’re not mad are you?
The Esther Code Page 28
