After a half hour, I stopped it. Sheryl was going to be fine; it would be her lawyer who might be in danger of losing it.
Janssen heard the beep, which signaled that the e-mail had arrived. Novack came in and looked over his shoulder as he read it. It was a four-page set of instructions to wire the money, which was complicated beyond the ability of either man to understand.
Since it had come in on the department e-mail, Janssen forwarded it to his Bureau e-mail, which was being monitored by everyone in the operation. It was a cumbersome but unavoidable way of doing it, and Janssen even thought it might be another mind game played by Murray to keep them a little off balance. Janssen didn’t know enough about how computers and e-mail operated, but he even thought it might be a way to make it harder to trace it back to the sender.
Once it was widely disseminated, the financial people set to work following the wiring instructions. Simultaneous efforts were being made to trace the money once it was sent, but that was clearly going to be difficult. Some of the pieces might be recovered, but the majority of the money was going to get to its ultimate destination, which only Murray knew.
Janssen turned up the sound on the television, which seemed to have a permanent BREAKING NEWS banner stamped across the bottom. The situation at the Limerick plant was deteriorating. The fuel rods were already melting, having reached a temperature of four thousand degrees Fahrenheit.
“How hot is too hot?” Novack asked.
“If it hits five thousand, it’s over,” Janssen said.
The military had been brought in to assist in the evacuation. The governor of Pennsylvania had called in the National Guard, but the president did him one better and brought in the Army and Marines. The president also declared the area an official disaster emergency, the first time in recorded American history that such a declaration was made for a disaster that hadn’t really taken place yet.
Radiation emissions were being measured and breathlessly reported. At that point the leakage was not particularly significant, but that was not stopping the panic from fanning out across the country and the world. In Europe they were already talking about cutting off imports of American beef and dairy products, because of possible contamination.
The world had decided that catastrophe was imminent.
At that moment, Murray and Churchill were doing what Janssen, Novack, and everyone else in America and the world was doing; they were watching it play out on television. The difference was that they watched it in admiration of their own handiwork, while everyone else watched it in horror.
There was really nothing else for them to do, except monitor the Limerick computer system and cameras to make sure that their opposition wasn’t taking countermeasures. Murray’s reaction to any such move would be swift and sure, he would send the plant into total meltdown. It would mean not getting the money, but that would be a temporary setback. He had other targets waiting to be hit.
But basically they were just waiting until it was time for Murray to once again call Janssen, to confirm that the money was sent. It might not even be necessary, since their monitoring of the bank’s computers would let them follow the trail. But he wanted to be able to further manipulate Janssen and the situation, and he needed to initiate contact to do that.
Ten minutes before Murray was scheduled to call Janssen, he saw the first signs of the demanded money entering the banking system. Then the rest of it was entered, and Murray knew that all the money had been sent.
He had known they would cave, but it still was exhilarating to see. He was going to be rich beyond imagination.
“The money is being sent,” said Murray.
Churchill jumped out of his chair, pumping his fist. “YES!”
Murray just sat in his chair, not moving, and then said, “You feel like a pizza? I’m buying.”
Churchill laughed and said, “Sure, I’m starving. But aren’t you going to call them and end this?”
“Not yet,” Murray said. “Let’s let things heat up a little bit.”
Ten minutes later, Murray made the call, and the first thing Janssen said was, “The money has been paid.”
“I’ll have to confirm that for myself,” Murray said. “I trust you won’t take offense at that?”
Silent alarm bells went off in Janssen’s head. Somebody with a third the computer abilities of Murray would have already known the money was sent. “Hurry it up,” he said. “Radiation is escaping. You’ve got what you want.”
“And you’ll get what you want, as soon as I confirm the money has been sent.”
With that he hung up, leaving a frustrated Janssen powerless to do anything but wait and see if the lowest form of human he’d ever encountered would do the honorable thing. It was not a comfortable feeling.
Once he had hung up, Churchill said, “You want me to lower the covers and let the coolant in?”
“No.”
“Why not?” asked Churchill, surprised.
“I’ve been thinking. If the reactor is not too badly damaged, they’ll be able to get in and take the computer systems apart. They could figure out a way to track it back to us.”
“You told me there was no way they could do that.”
“And there probably isn’t. But there’s definitely no way if the entire building melts down.”
“I don’t think we need to do that,” Churchill said.
Murray shrugged. “Maybe not. Let’s drink a toast to our victory, and then talk about it some more.”
Murray took two beers out of the refrigerator, and handed one to Churchill. “To five billion dollars,” he said, holding up his bottle.
Churchill smiled and held up his own bottle. “To champagne instead of beer.”
Churchill was unaware that his bottle contained more than just beer as they drank their toast, and as the reactor temperature continued to rise.
Andrew Garrett knew the person to call was Novack. He had tried to reach Emerson, but Emerson was also out in the field, and not answering his phone. He sent him a text, but didn’t want to wait.
He called into the precinct, and was told by the desk sergeant that Novack was in Janssen’s office, and was not to be disturbed. “Disturb him,” Garrett said. “Now.”
So in less than a minute, Novack was on the phone. “What have you got?” he asked.
“I talked to this girl … she was going out with Laufer … she’s like a computer nerd groupie. Didn’t know who killed him, or anything about it, but—”
“Shorthand it, Garrett. We’re running out of time here.”
“Okay. When I asked her if she knew Murray, she freaked. About six months ago she met him at a bar. He was drunk, and he took her home … he passed out, and woke up at three o’clock in the morning and freaked that she was there. Didn’t remember bringing her home. She was scared stiff, so afraid he was going to kill her that she took off in her goddamn underwear.”
“And?”
“And she knows where he lives. It’s in Glen Rock; I’m right down the street from the house now.”
“Is anyone in the house now?”
“There are lights on, but I haven’t gotten close enough.”
“Where’s Emerson?”
“On the way here. I just texted him.”
Garrett gave him the address, and Novack promised to get there right away. He quickly notified Donovan, who insisted on coming along, and then arranged for a SWAT team to meet him where Garrett was calling from. Then he went into Janssen’s office.
“We’ve got something. Don’t know how good it is; it’s a possible location for Murray.”
“I can get agents to meet you at the scene.”
Novack shook his head. “We’re on it. If it amounts to anything, I’ll take you up on that. Good luck here.”
Janssen nodded. “Yeah.” He knew that luck was not going to be a factor. They were dependent on Murray to be satisfied with the money, and stop the attack on the reactor.
Preparations were being made to enter
the reactor and attempt to flood it with coolant. Failing that, they were going to airdrop the chemicals. Neither was likely to work, but doing nothing wasn’t going to do the trick either.
The address in Glen Rock was about twenty minutes away, and Novack made it in twelve. Emerson had gotten there a couple of minutes before, and the SWAT team pulled up just after Novack. The street was typical suburbia, each house on maybe half an acre, well-kept lawns, some with children’s toys on them.
Garrett pointed out the house; it was fairly well suited for their purposes. They could get close without likely being seen, and the rear of the house butted up against dense woods, which would provide cover.
Novack immediately sized up the situation and laid out a plan, telling the SWAT team where to position themselves. It wasn’t ideal; he would have wanted two snipers placed high up, but the only places for that would be the upstairs of the two adjacent houses. They couldn’t risk the commotion that entering those houses would cause, especially since the inhabitants of the houses might well panic.
Novack would approach from the left side, and Donovan the right. Garrett would stay back, ready to enter when the coast was clear. He was the most valuable member of the group, since if this were really where Murray was operating from, Garrett’s computer expertise could be called on to stop the attack on the reactor.
As they were moving into position, Novack felt his phone vibrate. He looked at it and saw that it was Janssen, so he answered it, softly so he could not be heard in the house.
“Novack.”
“Have you got anything?” Janssen asked.
“We’re about to find out.”
“Well, hurry the hell up. The son of a bitch turned up the heat.”
Novack motioned everybody quickly into position. There would be no time to wait, no time to approach carefully, no time to make sure this wasn’t really Beaver Cleaver’s suburban home.
And then they heard the shots, coming from inside the house.
They had no way of knowing that the gun that fired the shots was operated remotely.
Novack gave the signal and they rushed the house, firing their weapons as they got there. Emerson got there first, followed by Novack and then the SWAT team, coming in from their position slightly farther back. In the barrage of gunfire, Daniel Churchill was shot seven times.
They had no way of knowing at that moment that he was dead from poison well before the first bullet hit him.
Novack took in the situation, saw the computer console, and called for Andrew Garrett. Garrett raced in, ran to the console, and desperately tried to figure out how to operate the reactor coolant remotely. Emerson and Novack watched over his shoulder, as the SWAT team members made sure there was no one else in the house, and that it was secure.
Garrett expressed surprise at the ease with which he figured things out, and within ten minutes he had coolant flowing back into the chamber, and the covers lowered. They were able to watch on the monitors as the emergency workers rushed into the building, and added even more coolant manually.
That accomplished, Novack went over to the dead body, checking to see if he was carrying any identification. There was none, which was not a surprise to Novack, since by that time he had a sense of how Nolan Murray operated.
He had no way of knowing it was not Nolan Murray.
“I am here representing Sheryl Harrison, an innocent woman. You will hear from her, and you will hear from John Novack, the officer who arrested her six years ago. You also know, unless you’ve been living on Mars since yesterday, that he is a newly minted national hero.”
Sheryl and Novack sat on each side of me while I talked. We were in a conference room at the prison, which was specifically used for hearings of this type.
I was particularly grateful to Novack; in light of everything that happened the day before, there were a million things he could have been doing, including going on every interview program in the world. But instead, he had been with me since last night, helping me implement my strategy.
Novack and I conducted an interview late the previous day with The New York Times, in which we laid out the entire case to be presented to the parole board. Our deal with the Times was that the interview would run in its entirety in the morning paper.
It was an easy deal to strike, since Novack also agreed to give a full interview about the events leading to Murray’s shooting, and the defusing of the reactor. The interviewer really had his act together, and drew details out of Novack that I found surprising and interesting.
The piece ran as promised; I assumed that the three members of the board, led by Commissioner Stanley Breslin, had read it. It made our presentation to them redundant, but still worth going through with.
I also sent a copy of the presentation to the governor, in my official petition for an immediate commutation of Sheryl’s sentence. I had no doubt that he would have read the piece as well, and I had more hope in winning in his “court” than with the parole board.
The governor was by definition a political animal, and there had been a lot of people on Sheryl’s side since the whole matter went public. Even more important, at that moment taking a side against Novack was political folly, and Novack was squarely in Sheryl’s corner.
But I was not about to put all my eggs in one basket, so we gave what I thought was a compelling and energetic presentation to the board. First I took Novack through the investigation, and he drew a straight line from Sheryl to Hennessey to Laufer and on, with the line not stopping until it led to the Limerick nuclear reactor and Nolan Murray.
The board members hung on every word; their expressions said that they were thrilled to be close-up witnesses to history.
Next I introduced Sheryl, who described in heartfelt words what happened in that room six years ago, and why she confessed to a murder she did not commit.
I asked her a bunch of questions, fleshing out the details, and she answered them simply and honestly. Then she summed up by saying, “So recently I told the truth, which I should have done many years ago. I didn’t have any idea that it would ultimately lead to capturing Nolan Murray, or preventing a national disaster. I’m very grateful for that, but it’s not something I can take any credit for.
“I finally told the truth for one simple reason. My daughter is very ill, and I want to be with her.”
I wanted to hug her when she finished, to hold on to her and tell her how great she was, and how much I cared about her. But I don’t think lawyers do that, and so I didn’t.
What I did do was fill in what I thought were some slight holes in the testimony we had presented, and provide some additional evidence. Included in that was the document that Karen signed, in which she said that she had seen Hennessey with her father, before seeing him on television as a murder victim. Something was bothering me about that, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
The board members had questions for both Novack and Sheryl. The ones for Novack were somewhere between respectful and hero worship, centering mainly on the later parts of the investigation, more about Nolan Murray than Sheryl.
Then they questioned Sheryl, and they were surprisingly and disappointingly on point. They asked whether the reports of her wanting to give her heart to her daughter were true, pointing out that it was their responsibility not to release someone who they believed would go out and once again break the law.
Sheryl deflected the question as we had discussed, saying that her plans were private, but that no one would be hurt by her actions and society would not suffer.
I took it one step further. “I know you understand and are respectful of your obligations,” I said, “but you also have an obligation to justice. If you have listened to this entire presentation, and I know you have, then you cannot have any doubt that Sheryl Harrison has spent six years in prison for a crime she did not commit. You also cannot have any doubt that she will be exonerated and freed by the courts, but that is a process that takes time. She wants to be with her daughter, and for t
hat there is simply no time.”
It was finally over, and we were asked to go to an adjacent room while the members discussed the case, and wait there in case they had any further questions for us.
Novack said that he had to leave, that there were “a thousand ridiculous reports to write” about the previous day’s events. I shook his hand and thanked him for coming through for us, and Sheryl hugged him.
He hugged her back. “It’s going to work out,” he said, and then smiled. “Whatever the hell that means.”
We waited in the room for a half hour, then an hour, even though they had said it would only be twenty minutes. I was getting rather annoyed, and preparing to complain, when Stanley Breslin came in.
“We have decided that releasing Ms. Harrison based on newly found evidence is outside of our province,” he said. “It is a job that is rightly for the courts, and taking it upon ourselves would be setting a dangerous precedent.”
I was going to argue, but it wouldn’t have helped. Besides, he wasn’t finished talking, and he was smiling.
“But it doesn’t matter,” he said, “because the governor has just commuted the sentence.”
I was never really comfortable on a computer. It was ironic, because the case had been so much about computers. But what I was doing that night on my laptop was so awful that when I was finished, I was going to smash it with a hammer.
I was running computer searches for painless ways to commit suicide, ways that would not damage vital organs. I thought the answers would be plentiful, but all I did was turn up countless pleas to distraught people telling them not to die, that life was too worth living.
That’s what I wanted to tell Sheryl, among a thousand other things, but there was little time left to do it. She was spending one more night at the prison, while the court reviewed the governor’s commutation and processed it. The next day she would be released. She would go straight to the hospital, spend time with Karen and Terry, and then die. Dr. Jenkins was notified and ready.
Heart of a Killer Page 24