The Murderers' Club

by P. D. Martin

  “The girl alive?” This time I hear emotion in his voice.

  “Yes. She’ll be okay.” Physically at least.

  “And Clair? Do you know where she is? Where she’s being held?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “So you’ll question this latest suspect?”

  I pause. “No. He’s dead.”

  “Oh.”

  Being in the law-enforcement business I know Mr. Kelly is experiencing two contradictory emotions. Firstly he’s happy that a monster has been erased, literally, but he’s also aware that dead men can’t talk.

  “We have other suspects in custody and we’ve got leads on the location of where your daughter is being held.” I don’t tell him that Gerard is working on those leads, that he holds the key to his daugh ter’s location. I know Gerard will work better without someone breathing down his neck. Besides, it’s easier for me to keep Mr. Kelly at bay long distance than it would be for someone who’s in the same town.

  “What leads?” Mr. Kelly presses.

  “I’m afraid I can’t discuss that. You know how it is, Mr. Kelly.”

  He’s silent for a few seconds. “Mmm, maybe I know how it is, but I don’t like it.”

  “And I don’t blame you, sir.”

  Silence again. An impasse.

  “So Clair is being held captive somewhere in the Mojave Desert?”

  He knows the answer, but he’s going through the facts again out aloud. Maybe in the hope that I’ll give him extra information, or maybe just to let it sink in.

  “Yes. She and one other woman are being held in an underground bunker. But Mr. Kelly, I must stress, they do not realize they’re even in danger. As far as they’re concerned, they’re part of a reality TV show. To date, your daughter has not been hurt in any way.” I don’t mention some of the cruel challenges Jonathan told us about. Better to dwell on the positive—Clair’s alive and is not aware of what’s really going on. In this case the saying “ignorance is bliss” is certainly true. I know Malcolm’s parents would do anything to trade places with Mr. Kelly. Even Cindy’s neglectful parents would prefer it if their daughter was still alive.

  I continue. “I know it’s probably not much comfort to you—”

  “It is. It is, but…”

  “I know, Mr. Kelly. You want us to find her.”

  “Yes.”

  “There are four perps in this case, Mr. Kelly. One’s dead, we’ve got two in custody and the fourth is probably unaware of the location of the bunker. We will find your daughter.”

  “Thank you, Agent Anderson. I appreciate your candor. I’ll be staying in Tucson for the moment.”

  “Of course, Mr. Kelly. As Agent Gerard told you, I’m in San Francisco, but feel free to call me anytime. And I will, of course, call you as soon as we have word on your daughter.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” He says the right words but I know he doesn’t feel any sense of resolution.

  For the rest of the drive I think about our plan of action—or lack thereof. Brooke’s a dead end; Petrov is dead; NeverCaught is on hold; and Heath seems intent on keeping his mouth shut.

  When we get back to the San Francisco field office at 7:00 p.m., I’m surprised to find Justin Reid waiting for me by the security desk in the foyer. I tell the others to go on up while I talk to him.

  I take his outstretched hand and shake it. “What can I do for you, Mr. Reid?”

  “I’d like to see Heath.”

  I don’t respond verbally but my look says it all—you can’t always get what you want.

  “I want to help, Agent Anderson. I know Heath can be stubborn. But he knows me, he trusts me. Maybe I can help you.”

  “So you believe us now? Believe that he’s involved in multiple murders?”

  He’s silent at first, and then he shakes his head and leans on the desk behind him. “I don’t know what to think. I just…I can’t imagine Heath hurting anyone, letting alone killing someone. This doesn’t feel real.”

  I study Reid for a moment. He’s a smooth operator and an incredibly successful businessman—he lives in a world so different than mine. A world where the news that one of your employees is a killer is totally surreal.

  “I understand.” I look at Reid, deciding whether to grant him his wish. I’m left with one overriding thought—I want to catch Never, and if Reid can help me… “Okay, Mr. Reid. I’ll let you see him. We will, of course, be monitoring your conversation.”

  “Of course.”

  I organize a visitor’s badge for him and we wait for the elevator.

  “Tell me about yourself, Agent Anderson.” He leans against the wall and looks intently at me.

  “Excuse me?” Reid’s small talk is inappropriate, more like a pickup attempt.

  “I’m just curious about what brings an Australian to the U.S.” There’s no hint of coyness or embarrassment in his voice—he’s a man who’s used to getting what he wants.

  I roll my eyes in my imagination. Like I haven’t heard that before. Still, I guess it’s better than him pumping me for information about the case. I will have to give him some details if he’s going to get Heath to talk, but I’m happy to postpone that tricky subject.

  “I came out for this job. To work as a profiler in the FBI.”

  “Admirable.”

  “It’s good work.”

  “Serve, protect, uphold the peace.”

  “What about you, Mr. Reid. What drives you?” I keep my voice polite and open.

  He shrugs. “Recognition, I guess.”

  I’m thrown by his honesty.

  He laughs. “Surprised? Well, it’s the truth. Given you’re an FBI agent, thought I better tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.” He holds his hand up in a mock oath.

  I smile, immediately relaxing. “You better watch it, I’m a trained psychologist and if you’re not careful I’ll be asking you what happened in your childhood to make you crave recognition.”

  The elevator arrives and we both hop in.

  “You’ve certainly got recognition now.”

  He nods slowly. “Yes.”

  I get the feeling it’s not enough for him. It’s the same for all ambitious people—you set a goal, reach it, and then set your next goal, forever raising the bar. And that’s how Justin Reid has got where he is today.

  “You must be extremely happy with SysTech.” Who wouldn’t be? The market share for the NetSecure product alone would be enor mous. He’s the Google of software security.

  “We’ve done well. The company’s done well.”

  He’s a complex creature. At times his arrogance is overwhelming, but now I’ve given him the opportunity to stroke his ego and he’s backing away.

  He looks past me and stares blankly at the doors before focusing on me again. “So, Heath. What do you want me to say to him? I don’t even know anything about what you think is happening. What you think he’s part of?”

  I notice think—he still can’t accept Heath’s crimes, but I’m not going to debate his word choice. “I’m afraid he’s more than part of it.” I sigh. “Heath is the president of an online club. The club has been holding several people hostage and killing them off, one by one.”

  Reid’s jaw drops. It’s nearly a minute before he speaks. “Heath?”

  “Yes. He’s been positively IDed by one of the victims.”

  “Someone escaped? What a relief.”

  “Yes. A young man was taken by a female killer, but he escaped.”

  “A female killer? That’s unusual isn’t it?”

  “Very.”

  “And you’ve got this woman too? This female murderer?”

  “Yes. There’s one suspect still at large and we’d like Heath’s help finding him.”

  “I see. Did any of the other victims survive?”

  “We believe there are still two alive. We’ll have their location shortly.”

  “Congratulations, Agent Anderson. You’ve caught your man.”

  I smile. I
hadn’t thought about it much—too focused on getting the two women out of the bunker and finding NeverCaught. Reid’s right though, we’ve done well. “Yes. But I want the fourth member.”

  “I admire you. Ambition and perfectionism…it’s a good combination.”

  Back to the hint of flirtation.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  The doors open and we make our way through the corridors to the interview room.

  “So, you want me to convince Heath to give up this fourth member. You don’t know anything about him?”

  “Only his online username…NeverCaught.”

  “Never caught.” He shrugs. “I’ll certainly give it a shot.”

  When we reach the observation area that adjoins Heath’s interview room, I fill Darren and Dusk in on Reid’s presence.

  Reid looks at Heath through the glass. “Is he okay?” I hear concern in his voice.

  “He’s fine,” Darren says. “We’ve even given him a cup of coffee.” He points to the empty cup on the table in front of Heath.

  Reid doesn’t smile. “I may as well go in.”

  “Do you want someone to go in with you?” I ask quietly.

  “For my protection?” He shakes his head. “No, I don’t need that.”

  I show Reid through to the entrance, but I stay out of Heath’s line of sight. I scamper back to the observation room to listen.

  “You know who you’re dealing with there?” Dusk asks me.

  “Sure, respected businessman, owner of a big software company… that provides important software to the Bureau. Don’t worry, I’m being polite.” I tune into the conversation on the other side of the wall.

  “Heath, how are they treating you?”

  Heath stands up and even though the pair doesn’t touch, I get an instant feel for how close they are.

  “Fine, Justin, fine.”

  They both sit down and are silent for a few moments.

  Dusk looks at me. “You might want to stay in his good books. He’s the most respected and powerful businessman in this community. I sure as hell wouldn’t want to get him pissed.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I say.

  Dusk chuckles. “Not to mention Cosmopolitan’s most eligible bachelor five years running.”

  “Really?”

  “Bet that got him notches on the headboard,” Dusk says.

  “I bet.” I observe Reid through the glass.

  “I’ve called Harry Strongson,” Reid says to Heath. “He’ll be here soon.”

  “Thanks.”

  Darren looks at me. “Know who Strongson is?”

  I shrug. “No.”

  Dusk’s voice is grim. “He’s only the best criminal lawyer in the city.” He shakes his head. “If Reid’s going to foot the bill, he certainly must believe the guy’s innocent. Reid’s got his reputation and that of his company to protect.”

  I shrug. “I guess money’s no problem for him.”

  “Nor for Heath. Reid pays him $200,000 a year and the bank statements the team found at his house are impressive in terms of his savings.”

  “He is the president of the club,” I say. “It’s an elite group.”

  We focus on the interview room again.

  Reid’s talking. “I…I don’t know what to think, Heath. The FBI are saying terrible things about you. You’ve been charged with accessory to attempted murder.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “And they’ve got evidence that you’re part of some online club of killers.”

  “They told me that too.”

  “So you know the position you’re in?”

  Heath nods.

  “If you know something, Heath, you should tell them. There are two people who can be saved, and one killer, someone who uses the pseudonym NeverCaught, is still at large. I’m sure the police and FBI would appreciate any information you have.”

  Heath crosses his arms across his bulky chest. “I’m not saying anything. I don’t know anything.”

  I shake my head. It’s the same line he’s been giving us.

  Reid tries again. “Come on, Heath. This is your life, your future. Helping them now will make it easier for you. Maybe reduce your sentence.”

  Heath doesn’t respond.

  Reid spends the next five minutes pleading with Heath to come clean if he’s involved, to say something, but Heath does not break his silence.

  “It’s useless,” I say. “I may as well get him out.”

  When I open the door to the interview room, Reid looks up at me. “I’m sorry.” He holds his hands upward.

  “Thank you for coming down, Mr. Reid.” I hold the door open and he stands up. He holds his hand out to Heath, who shakes it with a smile, before Reid leaves the room.

  As soon as I shut the door he turns around. “I’m really sorry, Agent Anderson. I was hoping he’d say something. But Heath can be a stubborn man.”

  “Yes, I can see that.” I walk Reid to the elevator. “So, you’ve organized for Strongson to represent Heath?”

  “Yes. That’s right.” When we reach the lifts Reid doesn’t push the down button. “Look Agent Anderson, I know you think Heath is guilty, but I still think you’ve got the wrong man. I want justice served, but I’m going to support Heath.”

  I sigh. “You’ve got to do what you think is right.” There’s no point arguing with Reid. At some stage, when we’ve got all the evidence together, he’ll realize that Heath is guilty. Then perhaps he’ll change his tune. But I won’t waste my energy on him now. “Thanks again for trying, Mr. Reid.” I push the down button for him.

  He nods and we stand in awkward silence.

  A wave of dizziness threatens to overcome me. It could be the lack of sleep, but it’s also a symptom I often get right before a premonition or vision. I fight it off, closing my mind. The last thing I want to do is collapse in a heap in front of Reid.

  “Are you okay?” Reid touches my elbow but I pull away instantly.

  “I’m fine.” My repression is successful and the dizziness stops. Finally the elevator arrives.

  “Goodbye, Agent Anderson.” Reid extends his hand and I shake it. He moves into the lift. “Maybe next time we meet it will be under more pleasant circumstances.” The flirtatiousness returns, accompanied by a grin.

  I smile. “Maybe,” I say, even though I’m convinced the next time I see Reid will be in the courtroom when I give evidence against his favorite employee.

  36

  Gerard’s estimate of a couple of hours turned into three hours, but we’re not complaining, not now that we have the location of the bunker. He managed to trace the cameras to a remote part of the Mojave in California, about forty miles west of Barstow, between the 15 and the 40. We then used the nearest satellite to pinpoint the exact location by scanning the one-square-mile Gerard had given us. It took us another half an hour to find two faint heat signatures—the two women are alive. It would have been faster if the bunker wasn’t buried so deep underground, if we didn’t have to scan each square foot so carefully, looking for even the slightest blob of heat and ruling out local animals. About three miles west of the heat signatures, we found the structure Jonathan described, the control room for the whole operation. Now we have detailed satellite photos of that too.

  Gerard has moved his attention to tracking NeverCaught, while we organize the rescue from San Francisco. We set the operation’s take-off for 5:00 a.m., giving us time to get a few hours’ sleep. It’ll also give us the daylight needed to carry out the bust. We have two bomb squads and two SWAT teams ready to accompany Darren, Dusk and me to the bunker. I’ve prepared for the worst—thinking about the computer fail-safes and what might be waiting for us in the Mojave.

  Five choppers in total, all Black Hawks, carry us toward the Mojave. It takes about three hours and one fuel stop to reach the specific GPS location of the control room. We continue on to the bunker’s GPS, leaving one bomb squad and one SWAT team at the control room. For the moment, their instructions
are to simply secure the area. Gerard has a full computer forensics team en route from FBI headquarters in DC, but they’re about two hours behind us.

  Our choppers set down about two hundred and fifty feet away from the coordinates. The SWAT team, bomb squad, Dusk, Darren and I all file out of the two large choppers and I use my GPS device to lead the teams to the exact location. Several of the SWAT members have metal detectors that they run over the desert floor, looking for the steel trapdoor. After about five minutes one of the metal detectors goes off, and we soon discover the doorway to the bunker.

  The bomb-squad leader, McCoy, ushers us away while they check the metal. Eventually, satisfied it’s safe, they enter the code Jonathan gave us, but it doesn’t work.

  McCoy looks up. “That’s okay. We can get around it.”

  McCoy and his men work on the door, while the rest of us look at the barren land surrounding us and feel pretty useless. The sun already has a kick to it and the desert landscape seems to make the sun’s rays even brighter, so it feels more like midday than nine o’clock in the morning.

  It only takes the guys ten minutes to open the metal door, but it’s an hour after that when McCoy emerges from the desert floor. The bomb squad has been in the belly of the desert, doing its thing while we restlessly soaked up the rays.

  McCoy walks toward me, his face a stone mask.

  “Well?” I ask, as soon as he’s close enough.

  “We’ve worked our way down the levels to the last door.” He wipes sweat off his brow. “The place is wired all right. We’ve found five charges so far.”

  “Shit.” I think about Susie and Clair—there must be some way to get them out without setting off the bombs.

  McCoy holds up his hand. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. There are no trip wires and the charges are on radio control. You’ve got the person who set this up?”

  He needs confirmation that no one’s going to be hitting that radio control button.

  “Yes,” I say, now more confident of the capture. Even though I was cautious about admitting we had the president, the digital evidence proves that Heath is AmericanPsycho, and we know from Brooke that AmericanPsycho’s the president. On top of that, the president would have blown this place, and the evidence, if he could have.