by Joseph Flynn
“So what have you learned?” McGill asked.
“Well, among other things, if you want to give yourself the best chance of embryo viability, you don’t just stick your future generation in the freezer at home next to the gelato and salmon filets.”
McGill didn’t need long to chew on that clue.
“Of course not,” he said, “you’d use another fertility clinic where the preservation equipment was state of the art and the people were trained professionals.”
Tall Wolf nodded and added, “All you’d need to do would be change the name on who provided the embryos and they’d be just one deposit among many of the same type. Perfect camouflage.”
Everyone liked that, and Elspeth took things a step farther.
“There’s something else to consider, too,” she said. “The closer the other facility is to the one that was robbed, the shorter the exposure for the thief. You cut your risk of discovery and arrest.”
Everyone thought that was worthy of investigation, too.
So they’d ask Dr. Hansen where her nearest competitors were located and whether she thought they might be less than conscientious about taking on some off-hours inventory. Fudging the names of the depositors.
Then Leo informed them of what appeared to be a police blockade of Sunset Boulevard ahead, and now added, “Another whole bunch of cops is comin’ up from behind.” He asked McGill, only half-kidding, “You want me to lose ‘em, Boss?”
McGill said, “They’re LAPD, right?”
“Yeah.”
He looked out the window and saw a street sign; they were just passing North Rexford Drive. He knew what that meant. Where they were.
“Stop right here,” McGill said.
Leo did just that, with a look that said McGill was spoiling all his fun.
Elspeth told Deke, “Stay here with Holmes. I’m going to have a little talk with the locals.”
“I’ll go with you,” Tall Wolf said.
“No,” McGill told both of them. “Everyone just sit tight. Sweetie and I need to chat for just a minute.”
He turned to his old friend and said, “How do you see all this, Margaret?”
“Lots of ticked-off coppers out there,” she replied.
“Things could get out of hand quickly, couldn’t they?”
“Without a doubt.”
“What makes cops angrier than anything else?”
“Losing one or more of their own,” Sweetie said, “or the threat of the same.”
“Did you or I do or say anything like that?”
Sweetie shook her head.
McGill looked at Tall Wolf and Elspeth.
“John, we’ve only recently met, but I’m pretty sure naked aggression isn’t your style.”
Tall Wolf said nothing and kept an impassive demeanor. McGill turned to Elspeth.
“Elspeth, I know your job is one of the hardest in the world, especially when you have to deal with me. I also know Detectives Zapata and MacDuff were acting like bullies who got their bluff called. Even so, I want to know what you said to them after they left the diner.”
Everyone in the SUV could hear the Secret Service SAC grind her teeth.
Then she admitted, “I said if things ever came to a shootout in this investigation of yours and one of them just happened to accidentally shoot you, I’d gun them down.”
Sitting up front, Deke Ky nodded his head.
He not only agreed, he’d do the same. No orders from above necessary.
McGill turned to Tall Wolf. “Did you have anything to contribute?”
“I said the cops shouldn’t doubt SAC Kendry’s sincerity.”
“Boss,” Leo said, redirecting McGill’s attention.
A tall uniformed man with a single star on his collar and nicely styled gray hair stood at the front of the line of patrol units. Using the P.A. speaker on the nearest car, he said, “Everybody step out of the vehicle with your hands on top of your heads.”
Just then a helicopter flew overhead.
Looking out a window, Tall Wolf said, “Air support, LAPD chopper.”
Then Deke said, “Two more aircraft approaching. Looks like TV station birds.”
“Step out of the vehicle now!” the police commander ordered.
McGill sighed. He extended a hand to Leo and received the microphone for the SUV’s PA speaker. “Hold on a minute, Commander. I’m calling in federal air assets so we can have a balance of power here.”
The man instinctively looked up and retreated. Several other cops stuck their heads out of their cars and gazed skyward.
McGill added, “You might want to order the civilian aircraft to back off, Commander, to avoid any chances of an unfortunate accident.”
The TV choppers took a beat to absorb that message and then darted away.
McGill handed the microphone back to Leo. He leaned back and said to Sweetie, “Did Patti or I ever introduce you to Sheldon Silverman?”
“No, who’s he?”
“He’s the mayor of Beverly Hills, a big supporter of Patti’s. Will you please give him a call? Say I told you to call and tell him he might want to send his chief of police to our location because the LAPD is intruding on his jurisdiction big time.” McGill pulled up the mayor’s number on his phone.
Sweetie chuckled and said, “Right away.”
McGill looked at Elspeth. “May I have your phone, please?”
“Why?”
“To run a bluff. Maybe get all of us out of here with no damage done to either flesh-and-blood or anyone’s career.”
Elspeth handed her phone to McGill.
He told everyone, “I’m going out there to talk to that cop. See if we can’t come to a peaceful resolution.”
Deke said, “I’m going with you. Nobody’s going to put cuffs on you.”
“I’m sure I could make bail,” McGill said, “but it probably wouldn’t look good. Okay, Deke, you but no one else.”
McGill and Deke got out of the SUV. Neither of them had his hands on his head. They closed ranks and strolled to within twenty feet of the amassed police cruisers. McGill smiled, took a deep breath and said, “Lovely day, isn’t it?”
The LAPD commander, knowing he had to look good in front of his troops, stepped forward, stopping within ten feet of McGill and Deke. The name tag on his uniform read Marsden.
He said, “I gave everyone in your vehicle a lawful order to step out with their hands in a position of surrender. I expect it to be followed right now.”
McGill ignored that and asked, “Is this about Detectives Zapata and MacDuff?”
“It’s about a direct threat to the lives of two LAPD officers.”
“That’s a serious allegation,” McGill said. “Who made the threat?”
“A member of your Secret Service detail.”
McGill hooked a thumb at Deke. “Special Agent Ky?”
“No.”
McGill arched his eyebrows in mock surprise. “SAC Kendry? The head of the presidential security detail?”
Marsden said, “We have a recording.”
“What a coincidence,” McGill said, “so do I. Makes me wonder if your recording was edited. To be more inflammatory. This is SAC Kendry’s phone. Now, if your recording —”
McGill and Marsden both looked up, hearing the roar of approaching aircraft.
Two military attack helicopters, AH-64D Apaches, arrived and took up station just aft of the hovering police chopper. They looked like a pair of Dobermans about to pounce on a chipmunk. Must’ve scared the airmobile cops shitless. The din of the three aircraft was all but overwhelming.
McGill had to hold his temper. Elspeth had taken his line of BS and made it real. She must have used the SUV’s radio to contact an Air National Guard unit, undoubtedly invoking the president’s name and voilà. Must’ve had the good timing to reach a command with birds already in the air.
The only thing left for McGill to do was make the best use of the situation.
He yelled to Deke
to stay where he was and stepped forward and put an arm around Marsden’s shoulders and led him to the side of the road. He shouted, “Now, listen to this.”
He played Elspeth’s recording for Marsden.
Unable to hear it clearly himself, he nonetheless yelled to the commander, “Does that clear things up for you?”
Marsden looked as if he might ask for a replay or worse want to take possession of the phone, but at that moment another cop stepped forward. This one was wearing a Beverly Hills PD uniform with a badge labeled Chief of Police. The chief’s name tag read Bridger.
He served just that function for McGill and Marsden. Reminded the commander that LAPD was out of its jurisdiction in Beverly Hills. Suggested to McGill that the director of the Secret Service might want to contact the chief of the LAPD and maybe the two of them could smooth things over.
McGill said he’d recommend just that to the president. That was good enough for Bridger, leaving Marsden to either agree or look like a dick. All the more so once McGill extended his hand to him. The commander shook on the deal.
Five minutes later, McGill and company were once more heading toward Pacific Palisades.
That night, the near collision between federal and local law enforcement would be the lead story on all the national news shows. The news choppers had stayed within camera range. Got some nice video of McGill confronting all those L.A. cops.
It wasn’t drama on a par with the guy in Tiananmen Square stopping the tank.
But it went viral anyway. The whole country saw it. Most of the rest of the world, too.
Pacific Palisades, California
Hours before McGill saw his level of global notoriety rise — at a time when he was supposed to be working behind the scenes — he handed Elspeth’s phone back to her. The westbound Chevy Suburban was quiet enough for all six people inside to hear their hearts beat and their blood circulate. Everyone, save McGill, was waiting to see if he intended to chew Elspeth’s ass for threatening to kill LAPD detectives.
After an eternity of at least five minutes, Elspeth could take the pressure no more and opened her mouth to speak. McGill raised a hand to stop her. He turned and looked at Sweetie.
“Margaret, from what you’ve seen of Detectives Zapata and MacDuff, if they had either suspiciously or recklessly caused my death during an exchange of gunfire, what would you do?”
McGill knew he was putting Sweetie on the spot, but she didn’t hesitate to answer: “I’d become so distraught that my own marksmanship would suffer fatal errors. Exactly two such errors. Then, of course, I’d have to go to confession, explain what I’d done, beg for absolution and pray for forgiveness.”
The subtext was clear to everyone.
McGill turned to Elspeth. “Thank you for doing your utmost to protect me, SAC Kendry. Celsus Crogher would be proud of you. As for me, I hope you’ll be a bit more subtle in the future.”
Letting her know she still had a future in the Secret Service.
Assuming she wanted one.
“Yes, sir. Thank you,” Elspeth said.
If she wasn’t as tough as nails, she might have shed a tear.
They rode the rest of the way to the fertility clinic in further but more comfortable silence. The tension level rose when they saw an LAPD patrol unit parked at the curb in front of the building. As they pulled into the parking lot, though, the two cops inside the unit stayed right where they were. Neither of them even radioed in their sighting of the demonic PI from Washington and his federal minions.
At least not while McGill was in a position to see them.
Before getting out of the Suburban, McGill told Leo, “Feel free to look at the cops, but don’t stare at them.”
“I’ll just keep an eye out for pretty girls,” Leo said.
“That’s the spirit.”
With Deke leading the way and Elspeth bringing up the rear, McGill, Sweetie and Tall Wolf entered the clinic. Two young couples and a pair nearer to middle age waited in the reception area. They all looked at McGill and his entourage, but being the cool California natives that they were, they didn’t seem impressed. They went back to their reading and their conversations.
McGill told the receptionist, “Jim McGill to see Dr. Hansen and Ms. Crozier. I called yesterday and asked for a bit of their time.”
The girl behind the desk, obviously new to town, did look awestruck.
Then an expression of disappointment creased her face.
“I’m sorry, sir, Mindy is no longer with us.”
“No?”
She shook her head.
McGill felt there would be no point in asking for particulars.
He’d either get a canned answer or a declaration of ignorance.
He said, “Is Dr. Hansen available?”
The clinic’s owner must have been nearby, possibly even listening in to the conversation, because she opened a door and stepped into the reception area as if hearing a cue. Her features were pulled taut into a mask of firm resolve.
She was not going to be helpful.
But she did extend a hand and McGill shook it.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. McGill. I just had a call from my attorney. He’d spoken with the chief of police. The LAPD would prefer to have the investigation handled solely by their own people.”
The three couples waiting in the reception area all leaned forward.
Now they were interested, and Dr. Hansen noticed.
“Nothing to worry about,” she told them. “Everything’s fine. We’ll be with all of you in just a few minutes.”
Besides being unimpressed by celebrity, cool Californians were natural skeptics.
Especially if they worked in any area of show business.
They knew something was up and didn’t buy Dr. Hansen’s happy talk.
Well, two out of the three couples didn’t.
After McGill politely said, “Sorry to be a bother, Doctor,” and left the building, they followed him out to the parking lot and asked what was going on.
McGill answered truthfully. “I’m investigating the theft of my client’s embryos from this clinic.”
The younger woman and the two men cursed; the older woman gasped.
“I can’t provide my client’s identity,” McGill said, “but as you might imagine, there’s a great deal of concern.”
“We’re going to get our embryos out of there right now,” the older man said.
“And we’re going to use another clinic,” the younger woman said.
Her significant other nodded.
The older woman got teary-eyed. “What kind of a monster would do such a thing?”
McGill told them all, “That’s what I’m trying to find out. Can any of you tell me the names of any other clinics you considered before coming here?”
“Why?” the younger woman asked. “You think this might happen again somewhere else?”
McGill shook his head. “It’s probably a one-off crime directed at a specific person.”
The older man, showing some savvy, followed up. “If that’s the case, why do you want to know about other facilities?”
“I’m considering the possibility there might be a receiver of stolen goods somewhere nearby,” he said. “A place with the necessary equipment and personnel to maintain the viability of the embryos.”
All four of them nodded their heads. The older woman who’d most taken the bad news to heart suggested, “You might also want to check with some of the universities in town. They could have the right people and refrigeration, too.”
McGill bobbed his head. “You’re right, thank you, I should have thought of that.”
The two couples gave him the names of four other clinics in town and two in Orange County.
He’d probably gotten as many leads as he would have from Dr. Hansen.
When everybody got back in the Suburban, Tall Wolf had another suggestion. “This being California, I wouldn’t be surprised if there are facilities for cryogenic preservation close by. Y
ou know, places where people have their remains frozen until they can be thawed out when science discovers a cure for being dead.”
McGill grinned. “I like that. Seems like the ethics at places like that would be fairly flexible.”
“Could be a simpler choice, too,” Sweetie said. “Like a small town morgue with a vacant cold chamber. Those things can be set to really cold temperatures.”
McGill frowned. “Now it’s starting to look like there are too many possibilities. Maybe an industrial refrigerator at a meat-packing plant would work.”
“Or a refrigerated rail car,” Tall Wolf added. “The way to look at things might be to see if Edmond Whelan or any of his colleagues has a link to a place that deals in cold spaces.”
McGill gave Tall Wolf an appreciative look. “Yeah, that could be a good approach.”
In the meantime, he told them, they’d see if Mindy Crozier could be found and was willing to talk with them.
Dumbarton Oaks — Washington, DC
White House Chief of Staff Galia Mindel did something that she indulged in maybe once a year: She played hooky. Called in sick to work when she was feeling fine. Physically fit, that was, but she was more than a little on edge psychologically. Jim McGill’s suggestion that Mira Kersten was already pregnant was eating at her.
She’d tried to tell herself that McGill was overrating his instincts on the matter. What man was so perceptive that he might know if a woman was newly with child just by looking at her? An obstetrician perhaps, someone professionally trained and experienced in the matter. But someone who’d spent his working life as a policeman of one sort or another?
She didn’t think …
Trouble was, she did think so. James J. McGill was a smart man, and no slouch at paying attention to small details. To be honest, Galia couldn’t remember how she’d looked when she became pregnant with her two sons. Couldn’t identify a particular smile she might have shown that said, “Hey, look at me. I’m going to be a mom.”
What she did remember quite clearly was the way she had felt each time she’d learned she was carrying another life inside her. There was joy and worry and maybe, peculiar to ambitious women like her, a sense of great power. She would deliver into the world a child who would grow up to become someone important. A person who would affect many other lives for the better.
