by Jack Davis
After confirming the time, Scott called his contacts at the police departments covering the upstate airports. He explained the Service needed to review airport security videos for a priority investigation they were working. He provided the range of dates.
As he was about to hang up, Morley made sure Scott also asked for the video from the parking garages. Antonescu had to get to the various airports somehow. The distance was too far to reasonably take a taxi, so the assumption was he would drive his car and put it in long-term parking.
It was shortly after noon by the time Scott pulled onto Route 81 north headed to Syracuse. Antonescu sat shackled in the back. Greere was in the right front seat…to start.
Scott decided to see if he could glean anything from the Romanian during the seventy-mile trip to the courthouse. Not having had time to study Antonescu prior to the ride, Scott started with small talk. He had a difficult time gauging the responses through the rearview mirror, not to mention his subject’s involuntary habit of looking down. Even with the less-than-ideal conditions, Scott didn’t like the way his interview started. At the first rest stop, he pulled over and changed seats with Greere so he could continue his questioning from a better vantage point. Ten minutes later, he asked Greere to pull over so he could call Morley.
67 | Dueling Phone Calls
Johnson City, New York, 10/19/09, 1239 hours
At 1239 hours Morley’s BlackBerry vibrated in its holster.
“Morley.”
“Afternoon, PJ,” said Henry Shaw.
“Hey, Henry, good news?”
“That depends upon your perspective. It’s good news if you believe you’ve identified and arrested a serial killer who has been plying his trade for a decade. It’s bad news if you realize you’ve identified and arrested a serial killer who has been plying his trade for a decade. This sadistic son of a bitch has been doing this for close to ten years and no one put it together ’til now. I see it as a colossal failure for us. I’m only glad you caught him before he mutilated anyone else.”
Morley, knowing the justifiable pride his friend took in the FBI, said, “It wasn’t like you guys didn’t have other things on your plate that might have let this fly under the radar.”
“Thanks, buddy, but there’s still no excuse for this having gone on for so long. In my view, this is a colossal fuckup. We’re gonna spend time on Capitol Hill explaining this one.”
“We’ll see. Depending on how this comes out, we should be able to do some damage control and give the Bureau some of the credit. After all, we haven’t connected all the dots.”
“I may take you up on your offer. First things first; I have the information you asked for. Our staff was able to associate a set of gruesome murders with similar victims, venues, means—everything—that corresponds to the dates the withdrawals were made from the Western Union account and the drop-in access to that game account. It’s a match. If I understood how you explained it to me the other day, this connects the murders to the Western Union account, which is tied to the hacker who sent your CI the credit card numbers. I’ll send it to you when we’re off the phone. Then I need to brief my higher-ups on what I know…and when I knew it. What are your thoughts on that?”
“You know as well as I do the Service doesn’t have jurisdiction to investigate serial killers. If you want, identify a working-level agent you trust, and we could claim we’ve been working on this simultaneously and just gotten to this guy via different avenues. I’ll leave it up to you. I’ll back whatever you say.”
Morley proposed the two agencies conduct joint interviews in the new cities where similar murders occurred, then his phone beeped again.
“Henry can you hold for just a sec?
“Morley.”
“It’s Scott. Antonescu isn’t guilty of possession of child porn or computer hacking. I don’t think he’s the killer either.”
“How sure of that statement are you? Sure enough to let a mass murderer loose? I have the FBI on the line, and they’ve associated our case with multiple other murders all over the US. I have to ask, how sure are you?”
There was a long pause. “Based upon my years of experience and fifteen minutes with Antonescu, I’m almost positive the little man handcuffed in the back seat is not guilty.”
“Almost positive?”
“I don’t have the luxury of hooking him up to my box right now, but I’ll stake my reputation on this. It’s not him!”
Morley was set back on his heels. “Do you have any additional information, other than your professional judgment? You know there’s a lot of physical and circumstantial evidence pointing to him.”
“I know, PJ, and I can’t explain that right now, but I can tell you Antonescu isn’t your man for the charges against him.”
“Could he be working with the killer or the hacker?”
There was another pause. Scott answered, “No. He may be being used unwittingly, but he hasn’t knowingly committed a crime.”
Now the pause was on Morley’s end. “Give me a second to finish up with the Bureau. I’ll call you right back.”
“Roger, we’ll stand by here.”
Morley disconnected Scott’s call and reengaged Shaw.
“Henry?”
“Yeah.”
“Something’s come up. I’ll call you back a little later.”
“No problem, keep me in the loop.”
“Will do. Thanks for your help, and thanks for keeping it close. I’ll make it up to you.”
“Just make sure you have an airtight case on this guy; everything else is secondary.”
“We’re working on that. I’ll talk to you as soon as I can.”
“Out here.”
As Morley heard the line go dead, he went looking for his agents. Walking out of the office, he realized what Scott told him fit his observations from the previous day when he was interviewing Antonescu. Scott’s call brought him back to the conclusion he didn’t want to accept.
Morley’s lapse of attention to detail infuriated him. There was more riding on this case than anything else he had ever been involved with, and he knew it. As he gathered the task force personnel together, his internal anger grew. These people were expecting him to lead them, and he was screwing it up. It made no difference to him that the killer had avoided all law enforcement for a decade, or that the killer had years to put together an elaborate system to hide his tracks and focus attention on someone else. What mattered to Morley was he had gone down the path the killer had laid out, giving him time to flee or destroy evidence, or both. His mind flashed to the FBI using his screwup as the trump card in taking the case away from the Service. He had just handed it to them on a silver platter.
Once the task force was together and Peyton and Mak were on the phone, Morley gave them a quick briefing. He noted their questioning of what they knew or thought they knew against Scott’s opinion. In a somewhat embarrassed manner, Morley briefly explained how he had been heading toward that conclusion the previous day when he had received information and phone calls that made him focus on other, more immediate problems. Then he explained the constraints of time and getting Antonescu in front of a judge.
“If what Meyer says is true, and I believe it is, someone is obviously setting Antonescu up. There’s too much evidence pointing toward him for it to be a coincidence. It doesn’t appear he’s being setup out of revenge, so I’m thinking it’s to cover up for someone else—most likely the real killer. If this is true, and the killer knows about Antonescu’s arrest, another assumption I think we should move forward with is that he will have destroyed evidence and covered up his tracks, if not left town, shit, probably the country. It will make it even more difficult to identify, arrest, and convict him. I’m sorry for the screwup. I take complete responsibility.”
In his characteristic style, Morley put as positive a spin on the situation as he could. “On the upside, we can assume Antonescu knows the killer. That narrows down our universe of possible suspects. Add to t
hat the other information we know: his travel, his gaming habits, his computer abilities, et cetera, and the universe is even smaller.”
Murray spoke up, “That was why Antonescu told us he was waiting for a phone call. He trusts the person who set him up and is waiting for that person to get him out of trouble.”
“It fits. Doc, call Scott and have him do his Vulcan mind meld trick on Antonescu. Reach into his brain and extract the name of the person he’s expecting to call him. Tell Antonescu if he doesn’t play ball right fucking now, we’re gonna…arrest him for the bad pictures and hacking. And when he finally gets out of prison in fifteen years, he’ll be immediately deported back to Romania and never allowed back. No good cop, only enraged fucking cop. I want answers.”
“On it,” said Swann as he left the room.
Peyton’s voice on the phone broke in on Morley’s thoughts. “There are only a few groups Antonescu would go to this level of psychological discomfort for: someone he loves, someone he fears, or someone in a position of authority. Start your focus on those groups.”
“Ron, standby while I pass that to Doc so he can tell Scott.”
The group started discussing various aspects of the case amongst themselves as Morley went to pass on what Peyton had suggested.
Morley relayed what Peyton had said, but instead of processing the information, Swann committed it to memory so he could regurgitate it accurately to Scott. It would take another minute before the comments would become part of the case file in his head.
Back in the conference room, Morley asked for comments. One of the detectives espoused the theory that as an authority figure, it could easily be someone in law enforcement.
Peyton countered that based upon how religious Antonescu was, it could very easily be someone in the church.
The group was intent on listening to the voice on the conference phone when the door flew open. Swann burst into the room.
“IT’S LUBLIN!!!”
Shock followed surprise though the room. Only then did Swann realize no one knew the information he did, and that half of them didn’t know the name Lublin. He caught his breath and went on, his words spilling out in a rush.
“The other day Brian and I interviewed Antonescu’s boss, Craig Lublin. When we started talking there was something unusual and familiar at the same time. I tried to figure it out, but between my cold and all the other information coming in, I couldn’t. It wasn’t until PJ said it might be an authority figure that Lublin came to mind. Then it hit me: the voice that called in to the WoW and Western Union help desks was Lublin’s. That was what I couldn’t connect. Now I’m sure of it.”
Swann paused and Morley looked at Kruzerski.
“He’s really fuckin’ goofy, but I never heard the phone calls to WoW or Western Union.”
Swann jumped back in, “We can have FSD play the tapes for him and see what he thinks. I’m sure of it. It also fits the authority figure, access to Antonescu’s house, and the code complexity pieces of the setup puzzle. Lublin is a programmer; he’s been at this for a long time. I’d bet anything he was taught coding that way.” Swann cocked his head. “And since he’s been here so long, he’ll have plenty of code for us to review and compare. Sort of like doing handwriting analysis on an author who’s written all his books by hand. This will be easy.”
Morley, as excited as anyone in the room, interjected, “Let’s slow down a bit. We thought we had our man when we arrested Antonescu. I’m not about to make another mistake and waste more valuable time. Doc, I want you to call Scott back with your new…” he hesitated, deciding what word to use next, “supposition. He should be able to use that against Antonescu. If it turns out Lublin is the person he’s waiting to hear from, then we have more to go on.”
Morley turned to Kruzerski. “Brian, contact FSD. Have them play the audio recording and see what you think. If it’s him, we shoot for a voiceprint match and then give handwriting another try.”
Turning to Chief Steve Goodfellow of the JCPD, he said, “Chief, can you run a complete pedigree on Lublin and have your folks help Lionel and Brian with the physical evidence? They’ll be looking to get documents Lublin has signed to be able to do the handwriting analysis.”
“We’ll find out all we can about Mr. Lublin,” said Goodfellow.
“Thanks, Chief.” Morley looked at Swann. “Doc, when you’re done with the Scott call, start working on getting code to review against the unknowns we have from the hacks. Work with the folks from SUNY.”
“Boss, if it is Lublin, he has had a day and a half to clean up after himself. I’m going to look at the logs for the past two days and see what he’s been doing since he heard the news. I’ll have Ron help me when he gets back.”
“Does anyone else have anything for the group?” No one said anything. “Anyone on the phone?” Peyton said no and Pencala, answering for both herself and Posada, said the same.
“Okay then, important stuff when it happens, otherwise the standard 1700 hours briefing will be the next time we get together. Thanks.”
Airport Information (10/19/09, 1415 hours)
The remainder of the afternoon was spent in a flurry of activity, everyone busy with tasks that, for the second time within thirty hours, they were sure was building a case against a fiend.
Morley briefed Brown who had just arrived, and then headquarters. He could see his boss trying to figure out how to play the new information. On the call to Washington, Brown let Morley explain the situation, thereby keeping distance from the mistaken arrest and its consequences.
“I’m here now, things should move smoothly from here on out,” said Brown to end the call.
Morley glared at his supervisor. “Really?”
He left the room to Brown’s insincere, “I didn’t mean it to sound like that?”
Scott received the first piece of new information at 1414 hours while en route back to Binghamton. His contact at the Syracuse PD called with the airport information.
It wasn’t positive; in fact, it was contradictory to the new direction the case had taken. The detective said the airport cameras taped over themselves every thirty days. The dates requested had all been erased in the past few days. The tapes had been replaced and were being sent to the crime lab to see if anything could be recovered, but the detective wasn’t hopeful.
He went on to say there were no cameras covering the arriving passengers but that there might be some ATM or other private surveillance cameras. Officers were at the airport following up on that angle.
It was the airport parking garage video that provided the contradiction. This tape showed a hit on Antonescu’s license plate and vehicle departing the day after the most recent murder. The black-and-white tape was clear enough to make a positive identification of Antonescu’s car.
As Greere pulled into the JCPD intake parking lot, Morley and Swann were there to meet them. Morley went to Scott while Swann helped Greere remove Antonescu.
“What did ya get?” Morley asked the polygrapher.
“Nothin’. I’ve been on the phone with the PD the whole time.”
Morley grimaced, then rushed across the parking lot. Greere and Swann stopped Antonescu when they saw their boss approaching.
“Time to talk!” Morley said as he picked the prisoner up by his belt and collar.
The others followed in his wake as Morley carried Antonescu through the back of the station and into one of the interrogation rooms.
“Why was your car at the Syracuse airport a few weeks ago?”
“Mihai can’t—”
“I DON’T WANT TO HEAR THAT CRAP ABOUT MIHAI CAN’T TELL!”
Antonescu recoiled in his chair.
“There’s child porn on your computer that you say you didn’t have anything to do with.
“There are hacking codes on your computer that you say you didn’t know about.
“Now we find your car was at Syracuse airport for ten days when you told us you haven’t traveled in a year. Either you’re
guilty or someone has gone to a lot of trouble to make it look like you are.”
Morley paused, seeing realization forming on Antonescu’s face. He decided to hammer the point and push the young man over the edge.
“Your whole world has burned to the ground. You’re going to go to jail for twenty years. When you get out, you’ll be deported back to Romania. Your friends, neighbors, and coworkers think you’re a sick, twisted pervert who likes to look at pictures of naked children. You’ve lost your job and will never get one in the IT industry again.”
He paused before he went for the kill. “If you’re telling us the truth, someone set all this up. Someone ruined your life. You’re a fucking fool, you’re gonna go to jail and that person is laughing at you.”
Morley was inches from Antonescu’s face. His voice dropped in volume and suddenly sounded sympathetic. “Who did this to you?”
Mihai couldn’t deny it any longer. Tears streamed from his eyes. In a barely audible voice, he gave up. “Is Mr. Lublin.”
Morley moved back slightly and put his hand on the prisoner’s shoulder in a comforting gesture. “We know. We just needed to hear it from you.”
68 | A Call for Help
Johnson City, New York, 10/19/09, 1511 hours
The voice recordings of the calls to WoW and Western Union were cleaned up and ready for Kruzerski within minutes of the request. The former Marine immediately confirmed what Swann had said. “Yeah, that’s the guy Doc and I interviewed.”
Morley laid out the next part of the plan, without consulting ASAIC Brown, who was actually in the room.
“We need a sample of Lublin’s voice for FSD to officially match it to the calls we have on tape. We can kill two birds with one call. We’ll have Antonescu make the call.”
“Do you think that’s such a good idea?” questioned Brown. “Maybe we—”
“Yeah, I think it’s a good idea, but I don’t have time to explain why right now.” Morley’s terse response surprised everyone in the room.