Just as obviously, everything Murray said was true.
Novack’s call did very little to relieve my anxiety. The fact that he was at least somewhat paying attention and took the time to call was a positive, but that was more than outweighed by his vaguely conditional promise to show up for the hearing and his cryptic nonanswer when I asked what was going on.
I wasn’t too worried about not being able to go over his testimony with him in advance. I would lead him where I wanted him to go with my questions, and I knew what his answers would be. He was an experienced witness, having testified in many trials, and there would be no cross-examination to deal with.
If he showed up, we’d be fine. If he didn’t show up, we’d be dead in the water.
My own preparation was finished, which gave me twenty-four hours to obsess and worry. Since that is probably my least favorite way to spend time, except for maybe hanging out with my parents, I decided to spend my time in a productive way, even if it didn’t benefit our case.
Karen and Terry were to be transferred from the Hackensack hospital to Columbia Presbyterian that morning. Karen would be put under Dr. Jenkins’s care, and she would theoretically be ready to receive a donor heart, should by some chance we succeed with the parole board.
Transferring a weak patient like Karen always involved some stress and had to be handled very carefully, and this particular transfer’s difficulty was compounded by the fact that Karen’s police protectors had to move with her. If someone were going to go after her, she would be at her most vulnerable during transit.
Her contingent of police was going to be there until she was set up at Columbia Presbyterian, and then Novack had arranged for the protective detail to switch to NYPD. He had friends there, and was able to prevail on them to handle it, even though it was a manpower drain.
I was not that worried about this external danger to Karen; I thought that Hennessey’s death had lessened it considerably. Besides, at this point it seemed that Murray had bigger fish to fry. Since Sheryl had clearly talked, there didn’t seem much for Murray to gain by trying to break through a police protective unit to kill this young girl, but it was certainly a possibility.
I planned to get to the hospital at around ten, to make sure that Karen and Terry were settled in, and to get them anything they might need. It was an easy subway ride up from my house, especially since subway traffic was still way down due to the all-pervasive terrorist fear.
That fear seemed to be subsiding slightly, as there had been no incidents since the president’s address. I didn’t share the optimism, or at least reduced pessimism, since I had heard nothing from law enforcement that indicated the terrorists had been identified or stopped. If they were still out there, having operated with impunity, there was no logical reason to believe they would suddenly cease their attacks.
I was incredibly impressed when I got to Columbia Presbyterian and saw the efficiency with which they had handled the transfer. Karen and Terry were well settled in their rooms; it seemed like they had been there a long time. The NYPD guards were also in place, and blocked my entrance until Terry gave them the okay.
Terry was effusive in her praise of everybody involved, and grateful that Karen had come through it so well. She had also met with Dr. Jenkins, and said that he was completely forthcoming and cooperative, which she appreciated. My presence there was clearly not needed, a state of affairs I was starting to get used to.
According to Terry, Karen had also become aware of, and grown more comfortable with, the presence of the police security. “Ever since she saw that man who was killed, she’s been pretty nervous. But knowing the police are here helps,” Terry said.
“What do you mean, saw the man that was killed?” I asked.
“On television. They said it could be part of Sheryl’s case. She saw you also.”
I nodded, understanding. Karen’s seeing talk of Hennessey’s murder, and the newscasters relating it to herself and her mother, could be frightening.
“I could talk to her,” I said. “Reassure her.”
“Thank you, but I don’t think it’s necessary,” Terry said. “It’s just that seeing him brought back that memory. But she’s over it now.”
“What memory?”
“Of when she saw the man before.”
Now I had no idea what she was talking about, but I wasn’t going to leave there without finding out. “Terry, the man that was killed, Karen saw him before?”
“Yes. That’s what she said.”
“I need to talk to her.”
Terry was not thrilled with the idea, protectively concerned that I would upset Karen. I assured her that I would not, but I was overstating it. I would try to be gentle, but Karen’s level of stress would depend upon the memory of Hennessey that she had.
Terry excused herself and went into Karen’s adjacent room, coming out a few minutes later to say that Karen would be willing to talk to me. She led me in to see Karen, who was lying in bed, no tubes or machines attached to her.
She looked so much like Sheryl in person that it was eerie. She was beautiful, but also incredibly frail, and weak, and tired, and vulnerable. She looked exhausted from fighting something she could not defeat.
She looked like she was dying.
“Hello, Karen, my name is Jamie. Jamie Wagner. I’m a friend of your mother.”
“You’re the man that’s trying to help her.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t want her to die.”
I had no idea what to say, so I decided to go with the truth, even if it was pretty much a non sequitur. “She loves you very much.”
She just nodded; I hoped she would let me off this hook, and she did. “You want to talk about that man I saw on television, the one who was killed.”
“Yes. I understand you’ve seen him before?”
She nodded. “He was with my dad.”
“Do you remember where?”
“Not really. It was like on the side of a highway or something. One of those rest areas. My dad pulled over, and this man pulled over in his car. They got out and talked.”
“Did you get out as well?”
She shook her head. “My dad told me to stay in the car. He said that was important.”
“What else do you remember?”
“The man looked over at me; he stared at me, and it scared me a little … not too bad. But they just talked for a few minutes, and the man gave my dad an envelope. Then my dad got back in the car, and we left.”
“How is it you remember this?” I asked, since it was an unextraordinary event, witnessed by a seven-year-old girl more than six years ago.
“Because when my dad got back in the car, I asked him who the man was. He told me that he was the person who was going to give us everything we could ever want.”
She seemed lost in thought for a few moments, and then said, “It didn’t work out that way.”
By the time Murray called back, a number of decisions had been made.
The top computer experts that the power company and Homeland Security had would immediately get to work trying to regain control of the Limerick systems. They thought they had a reasonable chance of success in that attempt; if they were right, the crisis would be averted.
But if they were wrong, then the United States government was prepared to pay the five billion dollars. They would do so with great reluctance, and not because of the amount of money involved. Compared to the human and economic toll that would result from a complete meltdown, five billion dollars was a rounding error.
Far more concerning than the money, or even the political implications of paying the money, was what might come next. Murray, if that’s in fact who was doing this, had a seemingly endless supply of targets, and a total willingness to hit them. What would stop him from doing this again, and again? Even if they were right in identifying Murray as the perpetrator, they were not much closer to catching him than they were when he brought down the airplane.
But
overriding everything was the inescapable fact that a nuclear plant, especially one near a large metropolitan area, could not be allowed to have a meltdown. The results would be so devastating and so profound that it was simply unthinkable.
The other decision that was made was to order an immediate evacuation of up to forty miles, which would include the city of Philadelphia, and to place an alert twenty miles farther in each direction, which was in effect a preevacuation order.
It was determined that it would not be the president who would make the announcement; they would hold him off pending subsequent events. It would be the director of Homeland Security, along with the FBI director, who would issue a statement and answer a limited number of questions.
But the press conference, and the evacuation decision, would await two things: the determination as to whether computer control could be restored at the plant, and what conditions Murray would apply when he called back.
What they didn’t know was that Murray was in no hurry to call back. Time was on his side; his previous precipitous behavior in causing the disasters made him frighteningly unpredictable to the authorities. They would fear he would destroy the plant on a moment’s notice, and a delay in his scheduled call would increase their panic at the prospect.
While Murray was calm and in control, his partner Daniel Churchill was less so. Churchill was almost as brilliant on the computer as Murray, which was somewhat ironic since at first Churchill had been the teacher and Murray the student.
Murray once literally saved Churchill from going to jail, and in return Churchill imparted his knowledge to him. Before long Murray had outdistanced him, and as good as Churchill was, Murray’s prowess amazed him.
What Churchill also lacked was Murray’s strategic thinking, and coolness under pressure. It was why Murray naturally gravitated toward the leadership role, and why Churchill never resisted it.
So Churchill sat at his computer, through which he had control of the Limerick plant, and let Murray run the operation. Murray’s coolness and strategic thinking would both be tested that day, Churchill knew. No matter how prepared they were, they would run into difficulties, and unwelcome surprises
But one thing that would not get in their way was something that neither he nor Murray possessed.
A conscience.
The call came at the fifty-one-minute mark, twenty-one minutes late.
By the time Janssen got on the phone, the bad news he was expecting had come in from Homeland Security; they were unable to regain control of the plant computer systems. Nolan Murray was right; he owned the plant, and he was already raising the temperature to dangerous levels.
The first things to melt would be the rods themselves. That is the extent of what happened at Three Mile Island, which was why it was classified as only a partial meltdown. That would be bad enough, but if the heat were allowed to keep increasing, unchecked, it would soon burn through the protective casing and then even the containment building.
That would qualify as a total meltdown.
And a total catastrophe.
There were essentially no options, or at least none that were particularly good. They could invade the plant, taking physical control, but would be unable to activate the cooling system. Bringing in outside water to act as a coolant was impractical in the time frame, particularly since it would provoke Murray into lifting the covers from the rods, which would trigger the meltdown.
Another possibility was to use helicopters to drop a mixture of elements, including boron, clay, lead, sand, and others, on top of the reactor to limit the amount of radiation that could escape into the atmosphere. That would be followed by literally encasing the plant in cement, as had been done with Chernobyl. The difference was that the Chernobyl plant had already essentially collapsed, making the burial that much easier. Whether all of this could be done at all at Limerick was very questionable, and in the required time was nearly impossible. Even if it were accomplished, it would not be without a very significant leakage of radiation.
It was a measure of the government’s desperation that both ill-advised solutions were being prepared at breakneck speed. There was always the very real chance that Murray, even after the money was paid, would follow through on destroying the plant. The responses had to be ready, whatever the odds against their success.
As far as the evacuation of the people living within range of the reactor, Janssen didn’t need Bureau reports to tell him what was going on. CNN on the television in his office did that quite well.
“Authorities are not even denying that the situation is chaotic,” the TV reporter was saying. “There is just no easy way to move hundreds of thousands of frightened people.”
Janssen then watched the report cut to a woman who was resisting efforts by the police to get her to leave. “Will we ever be back?” she cried. “This is our home!”
At that moment, the call came from the man who had caused all the fear and anguish. “I assume you’ve confirmed that everything I said about the plant is true,” Murray said. “The payment instructions will be e-mailed to you in twenty minutes.”
“Why so long?” Janssen asked. “Radiation could be leaking out of the plant already.”
“Nothing compared to what will happen if you try to avoid compliance. Do you understand?”
“I understand perfectly.”
“Good. The instructions will be rather complicated. Make sure you have treasury officials available to take the necessary steps. I will call back in forty-five minutes to confirm that the money has been paid.”
Of all the aspects of the operation, Murray was probably most proud of the payment instructions. The wiring would go through so many steps, in so many pieces, involving so many banks and fake corporations, that it would ultimately be impossible to trace. Murray smiled at the realization that he designed it and even he probably wouldn’t have been good enough to trace it.
“Why don’t you lower the covers and let some coolant in?” Janssen asked. “We’ll pay the money; you know we have no choice. If we don’t pay, you can heat the damn thing up again.”
“Gee, let me think about that,” Murray said, and laughed just before he hung up.
I’m not sure I’ve ever heard such stunning news. I was listening to the radio on the way to the prison, and they cut in to announce that a terrorist takeover was in progress at a nuclear plant near Philadelphia. It was reported to be the same perpetrators that had committed the previous attacks, and an evacuation was under way.
But as enormous as that news was, that wasn’t the stunning part. At least not to me.
The authorities had named a suspect.
Nolan Murray.
I instantly understood why Novack had become so hard to reach, why he referred to things as having taken “a surprising turn,” and why there was a possibility that a “good reason” could prevent him from making the hearing. As reasons go, that was about as good as it could get.
There was nothing else for me to do but continue on to the prison to see Sheryl. I have a number of interests, but the dominant one is probably “self.” So my natural inclination was to try and figure what impact this new development might have on our case.
The obvious negative was that Novack would have other things on his mind, and certainly other demands on his time. I had to assume that he would be a key player in the national investigation; he probably knew more about Murray than the FBI would, though that wasn’t much.
The positive was that Murray was going to be a key part of my case, and it wouldn’t exactly now be hard to convince the board that he was capable of evil. In that regard it would seem to increase our credibility considerably, providing it didn’t look as if we were just latching on to the villain of the day. Which brought us back to Novack; his saying it would have much more meaning than me saying it.
Sheryl surprised me yet again. First, because she hugged me hello. That is not something she had done before; we hadn’t touched in any way since the ill-advised kiss. I
hugged her back; it seemed to come naturally. Very naturally.
A more significant and revealing surprise was her reaction to the nuclear plant situation in Pennsylvania. She had heard only a sketchy report on it, and she peppered me with questions, few of which I could answer. But her interest extended well beyond the impact it might have on her case; she really cared on a human level. She was concerned about what kind of world her daughter would grow old in.
I, being considerably less focused on the future of humanity than this person who was attempting to die, related it back to our case. I went over that case in detail with Sheryl, in effect rehearsing my presentation.
“You’re doing a great job,” she said.
“But you’ve got the important role to play, not me. You are going to have be convincing in your testimony.”
“I’ll tell the truth,” she said.
“Right. But part of that truth is admitting that you lied, when you said you killed Charlie.”
She nodded. “I understand.” Then, “Terry told me you met Karen.”
“I did. She reminded me of you.”
“Thank you. How did she look?”
“Weak. But she was hanging in there. And she told me that she had seen Hennessey, once, when she was with Charlie. I wrote out a statement about that, which she signed. It can be a helpful piece of evidence.”
Sheryl smiled. “She’s always had a great memory. She remembers things that I forget … things that we did together when she was little.” She paused, seeming to let the memories come back, and then said, “The only times we had together were when she was little.”
I didn’t know what to say, which probably happened more in the little time I had spent with Sheryl than in the rest of my life put together. The problem was that I had no idea how I wanted this situation to end. There was simply no resolution that I could come up with that would be satisfactory.
What I did instead of saying something comforting or sensitive was continue going over the testimony with Sheryl. I didn’t want to do so in too much detail, because I didn’t want it to sound rehearsed.
Heart of a Killer Page 23