Gospel

by Sydney Bauer

  ‘My wife is one of the most efficient people I know,’ he smiled. ‘But I have four boys so . . .’

  ‘Just because I’m so tidy at work, doesn’t mean my own apartment doesn’t look like a stopover for Hurricane Annie,’ smiled Maeve. ‘The Fairmont demands excellence and we are happy to provide it.’

  ‘Maeve is one of our best,’ said Capon.

  ‘Thanks, Mr Capon,’ said Maeve. ‘In all honesty, this is a really nice place to work, and meeting people like the Vice President, well, that was just a bonus.’

  ‘You met Tom Bradshaw?’ asked David.

  ‘Yes. He was really nice, we had a little chat about my name – or rather the Irish origins of it.’

  ‘When was this?’ asked Mannix.

  ‘About a quarter to eight – just before I started the turndown.’

  ‘And this turndown involves?’ asked David.

  ‘General cleaning – replacing used bathroom towels, washing used glassware, turning down the bed, leaving mints on the pillows, turning on the bedside lamps, placing the Bible on the bedside table, closing the automatic curtains, re-stocking the mini-bar, things like that.’

  David noted her reference to the Bible but a look from Joe told him he did not want to make an undue point of it – at least not yet – and so he went on. ‘And you did all that for the Vice President and his wife, Mrs Bradshaw?’

  ‘Yes, I met Mrs Bradshaw too – she was beautiful. A little hurried but very polite. They looked so, I don’t know, it sounds like a cliché but they looked so in love. He walked her to the door and she said something about him needing to rest and that she wanted his doctor to check in on him. And then he said it wasn’t necessary, that he was fine and . . .’ Maeve’s voice faltered a little, and she looked down towards her hands which were folded neatly in her lap. ‘I suppose the irony is, maybe if she hadn’t cared for him so much, then she would never have asked the doctor to come up and then he might still be alive.’

  ‘It’s okay, Maeve,’ said Mannix. ‘I know this is hard. By all accounts the Vice President was a good man so it’s normal to feel sad about his passing.’

  ‘I know,’ said Maeve, lifting her eyes. ‘I consider myself lucky that I got to meet him. He seemed so warm and positive and full of life – certainly not someone who would willingly take his own life, which I suppose he didn’t in any case so . . . Anyway,’ she said taking a breath, ‘that’s really all I remember. I didn’t want to eavesdrop so I went about my work. I wasn’t in the suite long. They had only checked in that morning so there really wasn’t much to do.’

  ‘So that was it then . . .’ Joe obviously wanted his next question to appear as casual as possible. ‘And when you left, the Bible you mentioned was on the bedside table beside the Vice President’s bed.’

  ‘Yes, both of them, one on either side.’

  ‘There were two?’ asked David, stealing a glance at Mannix.

  ‘Yes. The Presidential Suite is pretty big, as you can see. In most rooms we carry only one Bible. This one has two, one in each bedside next to the king-sized bed.’

  ‘And both were on their respective tables.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  David knew Joe hadn’t seen the second Bible, but there was no reason why he should have, and no reason for it to be of any significance. According to Mannix the FBI were interested in Bradshaw’s Bible, the missing piece of evidence, and that was the one they needed to find.

  ‘And then I gathered my things and got ready to leave,’ finished Maeve.

  ‘And you left the Vice President alone?’ asked David.

  ‘Actually, no. Just as I was leaving another gentleman entered the suite. I guessed they were about to have a private meeting. In fact,’ Maeve paused as if trying to recall some detail, ‘I remember, before Mrs Bradshaw left, when she suggested the Vice President see the doctor, that she also urged him to keep some meeting brief so that he might get some rest.’

  ‘And this man was, tall, short?’ asked Joe.

  ‘Tall, broad, fit – like an ex-college football player with a slightly greying buzz cut. He looked kind of official, you know, important; dark suit, matching tie.’

  ‘CIA Director Richard Ryan,’ said Mannix.

  ‘Yes, yes I think that was it. I think the Vice President called him Dick and he seemed to be expecting him. They shook hands, and . . . actually,’ she stopped again, looking at them all. ‘There was something else – I’d never have thought of it if you hadn’t asked about the . . .’

  ‘About what Maeve?’ asked David.

  ‘About the Bibles. Just as I was leaving the Vice President went into the bedroom and got one. He handed it to Mr Ryan just as I was walking out the door, and then he turned to Mr Ryan and said . . . um . . .’

  ‘Think hard now, Maeve,’ said Joe. ‘What did the Vice President say?’

  ‘He said, “Here you go, Dick . . . for inspiration” and then something like “I made some notes”. I figured maybe they were going to pray before heading downstairs to the banquet and I thought it was kind of refreshing, you know – two powerful men like that still being humble enough to ask for God’s help.’

  Mannix looked at David. ‘It is refreshing, Maeve. Sounds like the guy would have made one hell of a President.’

  ‘I think so, Detective. I really think so.’

  ‘And that’s when you left,’ said David, getting the young woman back on track.

  ‘Yes. The Presidential Suite wasn’t the only room on the fifth floor that required turndown. I thanked the Vice President and moved down the corridor, completing the service for other suites.’

  ‘And that was the last you saw of Tom Bradshaw,’ said David.

  ‘I’m afraid so, Mr Cavanaugh. I hope I have been of help.’

  ‘More than you know, Maeve,’ said Mannix. ‘More than you know.’

  Joe thanked Maeve for her time and Maeve gave David her home number just in case they needed anything else. Then the coffee arrived along with an assortment of muffins and pastries and Joe shut the suite door to be sure they were not overheard.

  ‘I’ll be honest with you, Mr Capon,’ began Joe. ‘We figure you as a stand-up guy and as such we want to be up front from the get go.’

  ‘Thank you, Detective,’ said Capon. ‘Please go on.’

  ‘This meeting here, well, it’s not exactly on the FBI’s watch, if you know what I mean. Sometimes us locals get a notion in our heads and we won’t be comfortable until we see it through. It’s probably nothing but we figure we wouldn’t be doing our jobs if we didn’t scratch every itch that bugged us. Do you understand, Mr Capon?’

  ‘It’s Pieter, and yes, Detective, I think I do. The hotel business is built on discretion and I have worked in this industry a long time.’

  ‘Okay then,’ said Mannix, putting down his coffee and leaning forward on the deep red upholstered sofa. ‘How did you find out about the Vice President’s death?’

  ‘Well, I was nearby, just down the corridor when Mrs Bradshaw came out of the suite. There were so many people waiting for Mr Bradshaw to appear. I was there representing the Hotel. It is customary, on such occasions that I accompany the “special guest” down the service elevator to the lobby level and into the ballroom.’

  Capon paused before going on, a slight melancholic smile crossing his face. ‘Everyone was so happy. The atmosphere was quite electric. His staff, they obviously liked this man, had a genuine respect for him, which believe me, is not always the case.’

  ‘I’ll bet,’ said David. ‘So what happened next?’

  ‘Well, this is where it gets a little, how would I put it? Unusual. I was, of course, teetering between offering to help and stepping back to allow the experienced authorities to do whatever they needed to do. I moved towards the suite with everyone else, but remained back a little, against the far corridor wall.’

  ‘Go on, Mr Capon,’ prompted Mannix.

  ‘Right, well, that was when the large man grabbed me by the arm.
He asked me to come with him, inside the suite. Of course I went with him immediately, thinking I could possibly be of some assistance. He seemed to know who I was, told me he needed my help and once inside the room he took me to the far corner of the living expanse, over there.’ Capon pointed to where the suite extended into another space housing a separate dining or conference room area.

  ‘As you can see, from that standpoint you have a clear view through the entire suite, past the living area and into the bedroom. I could just see the late Vice President, there,’ he pointed again, ‘lying still on the left hand side of the bed, and there were agents trying to revive him, administering resuscitation, and then his doctor arrived and then the paramedics. This all happened very quickly, within a space of minutes.’

  ‘And you and the man were still standing in the corner?’ asked David.

  ‘Yes, I mean, no. The man stood still for a few moments, almost as if he was surveying the room. He was obviously concerned about the Vice President and seemed somewhat relieved when the paramedics set up some sort of breathing device.’

  ‘And then . . . ?’ prompted David.

  ‘Then the man looked in here,’ said Capon, indicating the area in which they were seated. ‘And then back to the bedroom. And then he asked me to do something for him, to retrieve something from the living room sofa – just there,’ said Capon, pointing at Mannix. ‘Behind where you are sitting Lieutenant Mannix.

  ‘It was the Bible,’ Capon went on. ‘The same one Maeve was referring to, no doubt. Anyway, he asked me to get it and come back to this corner while he went to the bedroom. I did as he asked and looked over to see him standing in the doorway – not exactly in and not exactly out of the bedroom. At this point my view of the Vice President was blocked. I could not see in and . . .’

  ‘Given he was a big man,’ said David, ‘nobody else in the bedroom could see out, towards you at the far end of the living room.’

  ‘No, I suppose not. But it was only for a matter of seconds.’

  ‘Did he give you the impression the obstruction was deliberate?’ asked Mannix.

  ‘Not at the time, but then later, I wondered why he did not simply retrieve the Bible himself. It was mere feet from where we were standing, after all.’

  David looked at Joe. ‘And what did the man do next, Pieter?’ he asked.

  ‘Well,’ said Capon, taking a quick sip of water from one of the suite’s crystal tumblers before going on. ‘At this point the paramedics had begun lifting the Vice President onto a stretcher for transportation. So the man came back over to me and took the Bible, and said thank you, and that he needed to pray. I said I understood and told him I had already said my own silent prayer for the Vice President and he said something like, “Throw in a good word for me too, will you, Mr Capon? I think I am going to need it”, and then he left the room.’

  ‘Did you recognise the man, Pieter?’ asked David.

  ‘No, not at first but later – after I saw his picture in the newspaper – I realised it was Director Ryan, from the CIA, the same man Maeve saw earlier in the evening.’

  ‘And did you notice anything significant about the Bible?’ asked Mannix. ‘Was it opened or shut, was it . . . ?’

  ‘Yes, it was opened. I remember because someone had circled some words at the top of the page, you know the header that reminds the reader which section they are in.’

  ‘And . . .’ said David.

  ‘And it was The New Testament, specifically The Gospel According to Luke.’

  ‘Pieter,’ said Mannix, ‘this is very important so I want you to take your time and think hard. Were there any other markings on the Bible, anything else circled or underlined?’

  ‘No.’ said Capon, and David and Mannix hunched simultaneously in disappointment.

  ‘But there was some notation in the margin. A list . . . no, more like a little table of letters and numbers . . . I . . .’

  ‘Think hard, Pieter,’ said David. ‘Picture those letters and numbers, were they in any special order or . . .’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Capon, his face fixed in a state of intense concentration. ‘I am usually extremely good at remembering numbered lists – given my long career in hotel management. In the old days, before computers, we would work off ledgers as a matter of course. I could remember every guest and their corresponding room number, without fail.’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ said David, Capon giving him an idea. David pulled out a notepad and a pen from his suit pocket suggesting that sometimes it helped to doodle down a memory, visualise it in writing – just like a guest ledger, a documented list.

  ‘Yes, yes, this will help,’ said Capon.

  ‘Take your time,’ said Mannix, and he and David watched as the hotel manager paused over the small piece of notepaper, the plastic pen perched neatly in his long and delicate fingers.

  And then he began to write.

  M – FBI

  M – 2V

  L – RD

  J – I ???

  ‘I am not sure but I think this is close,’ said Capon, handing Mannix the note.

  ‘Well I’ll be,’ said David.

  ‘Does this help?’ asked a confused Capon.

  ‘It sure does, Pieter,’ said Mannix. ‘It helps a whole lot. But there is just one other thing. This Bible, considering it was not the one that was lying on the Vice President’s bedside table, we would have to assume it had come from Mrs Bradshaw’s side of the bed.’

  ‘Yes. That Bible was missing after everyone had left. As was the other one – the Vice President’s Bible from the left hand side of the bed.’

  ‘You know this for a fact?’ asked David.

  ‘Oh yes, both Bibles were missing. The second one, on Mr Bradshaw’s side, it was taken by the authorities. I saw the Senior FBI Agent take it along with the other materials by the Vice President’s bed. It was put in a plastic bag with a label on it.’

  ‘Would that agent be Washington Field Office Assistant Director in Charge Antonio Ramirez?’ asked Joe, and David heard the slightest trace of anger in his voice.

  ‘Yes, that’s him,’ said Capon. ‘I remember overhearing him saying something about taking them to his suite. That he would get them expressed to the “lab”.’

  ‘It went into evidence after all,’ said Mannix, glancing across at David.

  ‘I suppose that’s what he meant,’ said Capon. ‘Although, come to think of it, I don’t know what use it would be to them – to the FBI I mean. It was just a standard hotel Bible, after all, the same as all the other editions in this hotel.’

  ‘Except for the one you retrieved for Richard Ryan – that one was different.’

  ‘Well, yes,’ said Capon. ‘Given the notation in it, I suppose so.’

  Mannix scratched his head and looked up at David, the smile now spreading across his face. He raised his hand to Capon indicating they needed a quiet moment before leaning into David’s ear.

  ‘Ramirez had no idea,’ he whispered. ‘He bagged the one in the bedroom thinking he was confiscating the book Pieter here collected for Ryan. Somehow he knew Bradshaw had been making notes in the Good Book – notes about Matthew, Mark, Luke and John – but he didn’t realise there was more than one.’

  ‘He has the wrong Bible,’ whispered David in response, realising in that instant that he was smiling too. ‘He has the wrong God-damned one.’

  31

  FBI Washington Field Office Assistant Director in Charge Antonio Ramirez viewed sex as he did every other aspect of his productive, goal-oriented life – objectively. And so, as he climbed off the tall, milky skinned blonde, her cool eyes devoid of any trace of emotion, he moved straight to his wallet, handed her the fold of crisp hundred dollar bills and gestured at her neatly arranged clothes, which were folded and placed carefully on the arm of the living area’s one seater sofa, indicating it was time for her to leave.

  He approved of this one. She followed instructions. No talking, no noise, no excessive movements, no or
gasm. She wore a conservative suit, clean white lace underwear, applied a light makeup and, best of all, left quickly and quietly, allowing him to get back to his work, his urges relieved, his purpose re-energised.

  This latest recharge had been just what he needed – these last few months representing the most demanding phase of their strategy. Still, he was pleased to admit, all was going to plan; John, their leader, was securing their position, Luke the expendable was neatly disposed of and Mark, the believer, was completely under their control.

  He allowed himself a smile as he remembered their last meeting, and in particular John’s ‘greatest nation on earth’ speech. He knew his superior was just as selfish as he, and that was why they were such a good team. Certainly much of the posturing was for Mark’s benefit, and perhaps to put some vaguely patriotic face on their brilliant but self-interested scheme. After all, the country would benefit in the process, it was just that he and John would benefit the most.

  Of course, there were downsides. For starters he hated Boston, a burb of pompous liberals who claimed to be free-thinkers but were really a bunch of self-obsessed conservatives. But he was stuck here in this three-star hell until Montgomery was put away and all other accusations along with him. It was all part of the process and he had no right to complain.

  He heard the click of the outer suite door and was pleased the blonde had gone. He put on a towelling robe, went to the mini-bar, poured himself a Johnnie Walker on the rocks and returned to the living area where he dialled the direct number knowing John would be working late, as always. Ironically, John’s latest efforts on behalf of the Latham administration were to consult on the legal expenditure of campaign donations – donations that had now reached over $270 million, thanks to the popularity of Tom Bradshaw – and incongruously, would soon be spent promoting John in his wake.

  ‘Yes,’ John answered.

  ‘It’s me,’ said Ramirez.

  ‘I told you not to call me here.’

  ‘Why? We have more than a hundred legitimate reasons to be speaking.’

  ‘What is it?’ John asked.