by David Archer
Aaron Zachary and Jennifer Larkindale were there on the screen, and Sam watched as Jennifer read off Max’s name from the card. In the original production, the scene had cut to Max behind the curtain, being congratulated by the other nominees, but this was the full shot from a single camera. The camera stayed on Aaron and Jennifer as they turned and looked toward the curtain where Max should be stepping out. Slightly to their left, Sam could just see the curtain opening up, and then Max appeared in the gap. He seemed to stumble once, stood straight, and then just fell on his face.
Everyone froze for a couple of seconds, and then a stagehand appeared from the left. Aaron and Jennifer jogged across the stage, and got to them just as the stagehand rolled Max over. Jennifer let out a small scream, something Sam hadn’t noticed at the time, and then the clip ended.
Sam went to the next one and clicked the play button. This was a different angle, from the other end of the stage. On the left, Sam could see Aaron and Jennifer facing out to the crowd, which was also to the left. The same scenario played again, and Sam watched the stagehand, Aaron, and Jennifer as they played out their parts in the drama.
The third camera was apparently mounted up in the fly loft, over the stage. It was looking down at a slight angle, and slightly behind where Aaron and Jennifer stood at the podium. From this angle, Sam could see all of the stage and the curtain, which was curved more than he had suspected previously. When Max’s name was announced once again, the curtains opened toward the top of the screen, and Max started to step out.
From this angle, Sam could see that what appeared to be a stumble was actually Max reacting to the impact of the bullet. It had struck hard enough to knock him backward for a second, but he had caught himself and managed to get his balance just before shock set in and he lost consciousness. That would be the moment when he fell flat on his face onto the stage.
The high view also allowed Sam a clear look at the blood on Max’s chest. The spreading stain looked bigger than it had looked from the other angles, and Sam realized that it was growing as the blood spurted. Seeing that, Sam knew that Max was even luckier than he’d originally thought. Spurting meant that the bullet had, at the very least, nicked an artery.
The fourth video was actually from the camera on which the rifle had been mounted. Sam had expected it to be a distant shot, but the camera was apparently zoomed in pretty tightly. Once again, he watched as Jennifer announced the winner, then the curtain opened and the camera adjusted itself and zoomed in a little tighter. Max stepped into view, and suddenly Sam heard a thump.
If he hadn’t been halfway expecting it, he never would have caught it. He actually heard the shot that fired the bullet that struck Max. The muffled sound wasn’t loud, but it was distinctive, and the picture wobbled for a split second. That would’ve been due to the recoil of the rifle, Sam figured.
A thought struck him, and he refreshed that video and played it again. Sure enough, he thought, this was the actual view he had seen on the live webcast. The producer had been streaming that particular camera at the time, and Sam suddenly remembered the cue sheet. That had told the shooters which camera would be used for that particular shot, which explained why they had chosen it to mount the rifle on.
He went back to reading the description of the shooting, and was frankly amazed that John and Annie, or whichever of them had actually filled out the application, had done such a precise job of describing it. They had gone into great detail, almost split second by split second, from the moment Jennifer read off Max’s name to the moment when the paramedics rushed onto the stage. After he’d been thinking about it for a few moments, Sam concluded that they had gone over the video footage more than once themselves, trying to make sure they described everything properly.
Next, Sam began looking at the first reports from the investigators. Walter’s was at the top of the list, and Sam was always surprised at the clear and grammatical manner in which he wrote his reports. Perhaps he should not have been; shortly after his first case with Windlass, Sam had the opportunity to review a file on Walter, and learned that Walter was an extremely rare individual. While he had been diagnosed with a form of autism known as Asperger Syndrome, he was also classed as a multiple Savant.
Savant syndrome refers to certain abilities that seemed to be inherent in an individual. In the general population, less than one percent have any type of savant ability, but within the population of people diagnosed with any type of autism, that percentage raises to around ten percent. Not every autistic person will develop a savant ability, despite the misconception that the public gained from the movie Rain Man. Not every autistic person can do incredible mathematics or count instantly, and while these are not uncommon abilities, there are many others.
Walter’s doctors had determined that he had four specific savant abilities. He could perform even the most complex mathematics in his head; he had a grasp of mechanical and visual spatial relationships that allowed him to imagine and visualize complex relationships between objects; he had unusually acute sensory discrimination, which meant that he could see, hear, smell, taste, and feel things that most people would never notice at all; and he had what amounted to an eidetic memory, because any detail that he read, heard, or saw remained in his memory to the point that he could call it back at any time and examine it as if he were experiencing it all over again.
Unlike many autistics, he did not have extreme difficulty with communication skills. While he often spoke in very short, almost broken sentences, he could speak and write with perfect clarity whenever he chose. He could also, although this is not considered a savant skill, type accurately at close to two hundred words a minute.
Walter’s report on his first examination of the crime scene was extremely detailed. He not only described the arena building in great detail, but he listed his impressions of every step from the point he entered the building until he climbed on the rail of the catwalk to photograph the rifle.
“As I stepped onto the catwalk,” his narrative read, “I observed that the floor of the catwalk was made of steel grating with rectangular holes that were one half inch wide and one and one quarter inches long. The steel strips that divided the holes from one another were nine-sixteenths of an inch tall and three thirty-seconds of an inch thick. They were attached to one another by interlocking grooves and were spot welded by the application of electricity and pressure. They were more than sufficient to withstand the weight of myself and the others with me. I further observed that there were small amounts of dirt and other substances on their top edges and sometimes running down the vertical sides of the strips. Some of the other substances included road tar, mud, coffee stains, spilled soft drink residue, chocolate, small pieces of gravel, pieces of cigarettes and cigarette filters, bits of grass, small seeds, flower petals and other items I did not take time to identify.”
All of that, Sam thought, after only a few seconds of looking at the catwalk. The only thing I noticed was that it was made of metal, and I wouldn’t even have been sure that it was steel. As far as all that other stuff, I never would’ve seen it all, and probably still wouldn’t see if I went back and looked again.
“When the camera was manipulated to just over our heads, I stepped up onto the railing of the catwalk, spreading my legs to maintain my balance and looked closely at the top of the camera. There I saw an articulated platform that appeared to be movable by means of remotely controlled electric motors, cables and solenoids. The proper combination of signals would result in movement of the top mounting platform of approximately ninety degrees on the z axis (horizontal rotation), approximately seventy degrees on the X axis (vertical rotation), and zero degrees on the y axis (longitudinal rotation). Mounted atop this platform was a modified AR-15 rifle that had been stripped down and had the addition of a large sound suppressor, video camera sighting mechanism and a solenoid controlled lever that could depress the trigger. I also observed a considerable amount of dust that had accumulated on the camera, with only a much
smaller layer on the rifle, indicating that the rifle had been in place for a relatively short period of time.”
Unbelievable detail seemed to be the hallmark of every report Walter wrote, and Sam often wished that he had an entire team of Walters.
Steve Beck had also written a report, and his was good. It showed the attention to detail common among police officers and detectives, who know that their jobs depend on their ability to see clues that others might miss. Still, he couldn’t hold a candle to what Walter had written.
One by one, he went through all of the reports that had been written over the last four days. From Summer to Jade to Denny to Darren and back to Walter and Steve, including their reports on the scene of the most recent shooting, until he was certain he had read every possible word that could be used to describe any of what was happening in this case.
Still, something was bothering him. He had the feeling that there was one little detail that he had been presented with that wasn’t fitting, like having one jigsaw puzzle piece that was cut slightly wrong and wouldn’t fit where it needed to go.
The latest development, apparently a second attempt to kill Max Petrelli, simply didn’t fit. The original shooting had been designed to generate a wave of sympathy and support for the company, as well as for Max, but was it really likely that they would gain even more support if Max were to be killed? Sam just couldn’t see the logic behind it. About the only thing he could do was hold out hope that the woman in the hospital might be able to shed some light on the subject.
Sam shut down his computer and headed for home. What he needed, he figured, was an evening of relaxation with his family. That should clear his mind, and he would think about all of this in the morning.
17
Thank God it’s Friday, Sam thought. He and Bo were at the table, having their early morning moments before Indie and Kenzie got up. Sam knew they weren’t going to last a lot longer this way, because Bo was getting tired of having to sit in the bouncy seat on the table, and he’d pretty well outgrown it, anyway.
“Maybe next time,” Sam said, “we’ll do this in the living room. That way, you can be in your playpen and not stuck in one spot. Is that a good idea? Yeah? You think that’s a good idea?”
“What’s a good idea?” Kenzie asked as she entered the kitchen.
“Bo thinks it would be a good idea if he and I start having our coffee time in the living room. He’s about had it with the bouncy chair on the table.”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Kenzie said.
“What’s a good idea?” Indie asked.
“Daddy and Bo having coffee in the living room,” Kenzie said.
Indie looked at Sam. “Having coffee?” she asked. “Sam…”
Sam held up a hand in self-defense. “Don’t worry,” he said, “it’s like I always say, his coffee comes in a bottle and tastes a lot like milk. He’s not quite ready for my kind of coffee yet.”
“And he won’t be, not for another fifteen years or so.” She gave him “the look” that meant he’d better not try to argue, so Sam only smiled and nodded.
“Yes, dear,” he said. “Anyway, he’s outgrown his little bouncy chair, so I told him we’ll start doing this in the living room in the mornings, so he can be in his playpen.”
Indie grinned sleepily. “Yeah, that probably is a good idea. I’m going to give the bouncy seat and a lot of his baby clothes to Nadia, anyway. She’s only known she’s pregnant for a week, but she’s convinced it’s going to be a boy.”
Sam looked up at her. “Nadia? From my office?”
“Yep. Eileen called me on Monday, she’s putting together a baby shower. I’m surprised you hadn’t heard about it, I think everybody else up there knows.”
“Well, most of the women hang out together up there,” Sam said, “especially in the break room. They put a couple of tables together so they have a big one over in the corner, and they make it pretty clear that men are not allowed.”
“I think that’s because most of the men up there are a bit intimidating,” Indie said. “I don’t think you should take it personally.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Oh, trust me, I don’t.”
Indie walked up behind him and put her arms around his neck, then kissed him on the cheek. “That’s my good boy,” she said. She let go and went to the refrigerator, and it wasn’t long before Sam could smell bacon starting to sizzle.
His phone rang, and he picked it up to see that it was Karen Parks calling. “Hey,” he said as he answered. “Anything new?”
“Actually, I have something good to report, for once. We ran the fingerprints of the dead shooter and the woman we captured yesterday through AFIS and got a hit.”
Sam’s eyebrows rose. “You did? Who are they?”
“Well, he was David Green, ex-Marine who’s been mixed up with a lot of different anti-government groups since his discharge three years ago. FBI has been looking for him for a while, now, but he always seemed to slip away before they could grab him. They lost track of him a year ago when he somehow made it to Paris, and this is the firt time he’s been seen since then. As for the woman, her name is Suzanne Kushner, and she’s ex-army. She got out with an honorable discharge two years ago, and hasn’t been seen or heard from since until now. No family, she grew up in the foster system in Ohio. I’m headed for the hospital to talk to her now, and thought you might like to go along.”
“You bet,” Sam said. “I’ll meet you there.”
Sam got up and kissed his wife and kids, then headed out the door. The Mustang roared to life, and he actually got to the hospital two minutes before Karen did.
“Do we know if she’s said anything?” Sam asked.
Karen shook her head. “She hasn’t even really been awake yet,” she said. “I spoke to the doctor a little bit ago and he said they’ve kept her out, but they’re ready to wake her up, now. I asked him to wait until we got here, and he agreed.”
“Sounds great,” Sam said. “Are we ready?”
They stepped inside the hospital and Karen asked the information desk where to find Doctor Whitaker. The woman there gave them directions to his office on the second floor, and they took the elevator up. A moment later, they stepped into the doctor’s office.
“Doctor Whitaker?” Karen asked. “I’m Detective Parks, and this is Sam Prichard, Windlass Security. We are here to speak with our suspect.”
“Yes,” Doctor Whitaker said. “Give me just a moment.” He finished typing something into his computer and then shut it down, removing an access card from a slot in the front of the computer. He tucked the card into a pocket and rose to his feet. “All right, sorry about the delay.”
The doctor led the way down the hall, and they saw two police officers sitting just outside the room. Both of them nodded as Sam and Karen followed the doctor inside, where Suzanne Kushner was lying in the bed. Her eyes were closed, and the doctor inserted a hypodermic needle into her IV line and depressed the plunger.
“Give her a minute,” he said. “That should wake her up within a few seconds.”
As he spoke, the woman’s eyes began to flutter, and she opened them after a few seconds. She looked around the room wildly for a moment, then her gaze settled on Sam.
Karen stepped up to the bed. “Ms. Kushner,” she said. “You’re in the hospital, and you’re in custody. I’m Detective Karen Parks from the Denver Police Department, and this is Sam Prichard, from Windlass Security. You remember how you got here?”
She nodded. “Yes,” she said, her voice raspy. “David?”
“He was killed, I’m afraid,” Karen said, “which means you are completely on your own. Who hired you to try to kill Max Petrelli?”
Kushner closed her eyes for a moment, and a couple of tears leaked out of them. “I told him this was a stupid job,” she said. “He wouldn’t listen.” She was quiet for a moment, then she opened her eyes and looked at Karen. “I have no idea who hired us. David was the one who took the orders, and he never shared
that information with me. All I know is that we were told to come here and fire a shot at that kid. It wasn’t even a real hit, we were supposed to miss. We didn’t expect anyone to be able to shoot back.”
“Our security guards,” Sam said, “are almost all former special forces. The man who returned fire did it instinctively. Now, why in the world would someone want you to take a shot like that and not hit your target?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Probably some sort of distraction from something else. Like I said, David never shared any information with me.”
“When did you get these orders?” Karen asked.
“Couple days ago. We were in New York, and David went out to get some food, and when he came back he said we had to come here. He always got orders when he was out, away from me. He never wanted me to know who hired us, anything like that.” She gave a wry chuckle. “He always said I’d talk too much if we ever got caught. Guess he was right.”
“Good,” Sam said. “Because right now, you’re looking at charges that include murder, accessory to murder, and attempted murder, so the only hope you’ve got is to talk your head off and help us figure out what’s been going on in this case.”
“Murder?” Kushner asked. “But, I haven’t killed anyone!”
“Maybe not,” Karen said, “but being involved in a crime where someone dies is an automatic murder charge. Just the fact that you were with David Green while committing a crime, during which he died, makes you guilty of murder, and your association with him implicates you as an accessory to both his death and the attempted murder of Max Petrelli a week ago. You’re probably looking at spending the rest of your life in prison. If you cooperate, tell us everything you possibly can, the judge might be willing to be a little more lenient when it comes to sentencing.”
“But I don’t know anything,” the woman said. “I told you, David never told me anything about who we were working for. I was just supposed to be his helper, I’ve never even actually fired a gun on one of our jobs.”
