Drexler paused a moment, weighing up how to respond to my facetiousness. But in the end, he didn’t get angry. Instead, he used my mocking words against me.
‘You should have seen how she begged,’ he purred. ‘How she pleaded.’
There was something in his tone that made even these clichéd words skin-crawling.
‘You had a child executed,’ I said in a voice pitched barely above a whisper. ‘Do you have any idea what they do to people who hurt children in prison?’
Drexler laughed long and heartfelt. Then he said:
‘Well, my boy, thanks to you, I actually have a very good idea what they do to such people in prison. But of course, you’re the one who should be worrying about that, not me. After all, if you look at the evidence, it seems you’re the one who had that poor Rinaldi boy executed. And then you had your wicked way with Ms Spender. Shame on you, Saul.’
He laughed again. As he did so, I saw once more, in my mind’s eye, the little boy’s brain bursting across the room. I looked again at Lilly’s mutilated body.
‘You did this, didn’t you?’ I growled. ‘You were here, and you did this to her.’
He made a clucking noise. ‘Why, you sound upset, and here I was, thinking you’d be happy I did it after Lilly betrayed you like that—’
‘And where’s her daughter?’ I broke in coldly. ‘Another slaughtered child?’
‘Oh, so she told you about Abigail, and you naively entered the house anyway?’ he said, with what sounded like genuine surprise. ‘I must admit, I didn’t think she would. But then again, I imagine she still left out some details like, for example, the fact that I’m the girl’s father. I dare say she was ashamed of that.’ He chuckled. ‘In the end, I decided not to kill her – if you’re going to spare anyone, it might as well be the person carrying your DNA – though to be clear, I’d sacrifice her in a heartbeat if I needed to.’
The fact the child had been spared was some small relief. But I felt a deep sympathy for Lilly – she had been intimately and irrevocably bound to this monster.
‘Really, Saul, I find this emotional stake you have in other people quite amazing,’ Drexler continued musingly. ‘It’s a great weakness, you know. And it’s because I don’t share this weakness that I’m the better manipulator.’
‘It’s why you’re a monster,’ I responded icily.
Drexler tutted impatiently. ‘Spare me, I’ve heard it all before. Come now, Saul, you cannot deny the genius of my designs. I’ve deceived you not once, but twice. Twice I tricked you into believing you had the tactical advantage, when the reverse was true; when in fact you were, at all times, in my thrall. And I must admit, watching as you were drawn into the chain of events I’d created, and as each of my masterful predictions about how you’d respond came true – well, it felt incredible. Infinitely more enjoyable than merely taking a life. When I’ve taken lives, while the sense of control has been absolute, it has always been over too soon – whereas what I’ve done to you has not only given me an enormous sense of control, it’s also lasted a good deal longer. And, of course, the fact it was Saul Marshall, the so-called greatest manipulator, made it all the sweeter.’ He paused. ‘What I’ve done to you is nothing short of a work of art.’
After a speech like that, I knew Drexler would be hoping for a substantial response. But I didn’t give him the satisfaction.
‘Where’s Samuel?’ I said flatly.
Drexler sighed. ‘Come now,’ he said, like it was a stupid question.
‘So what, then? Your sick little game continues? And what perverted plan do you have in store for me next?’
‘No more plans,’ he said simply. ‘Surely you can see that the game is finished, and I’ve won. The trap at Number Nine was my final move, and I would’ve been very happy if the SWAT gunned you down. But I was aware you might escape, so I made provisions to ensure you’d be hunted down if you did. And in many ways, I’m glad you did. It means you got to see the show at The Eliot, and that, if you last long enough, you’ll get to see my grand finale; whereas I get to see Saul Marshall as fugitive once again.
‘And, of course, if you survive till midnight of March 4, it’ll make killing Samuel all the sweeter.’ He chuckled softly. ‘I’m excited to see his face when his messiah – his father – turns on him. That’s how he sees me, Saul, as his father. Though I’ve done things with him that most fathers don’t with their sons. Or, rather, I’ve had him do things to me. It’s a power thing – it excites me to see how far someone is willing to debase themselves.’
White-hot anger rose inside me, but I squashed it immediately. I knew there was every chance he was lying to get a rise. He continued:
‘But in short, Saul, the reason why I haven’t killed you myself, why I’m in no hurry to see you dead, is because, at this point, you represent no threat to me. Even if I hadn’t framed you, and you had nothing to worry about but stopping me, you wouldn’t stand a chance.’
Instead of anger, I now suddenly felt a creeping fatalism, since a large part of me couldn’t help but believe him. I was, after all, completely out of leads. And if Drexler’s previous form was anything to go by, then what he still had planned was likely to be meticulously safeguarded against error and interference… But a moment later, I again took myself in hand. I couldn’t allow this kind of thinking.
‘So in the meantime you’re happy for me to take all the credit?’ I asked. ‘For people to think that I’m behind The Order of Babylon?’
Drexler snorted. ‘I know, it’s preposterous – what I’ve done is way beyond your pay-grade. But yes, I’m happy for people to believe it for the time being, while it’s convenient. And if they do believe it, which I have no doubt many will, I shall take it as another sign of my powers of manipulation – that I have managed to get people to believe something so absurd. But don’t worry. It won’t be long until the name Ivan Drexler is known world over.’
It was unsurprising that Drexler was looking for universal fame – the desire for admiration was a key psychopathic trait. But what set Drexler apart from most psychopaths was that he seemed capable of delaying the gratification of claiming credit: he’d kept The Order’s responsibility quiet for days on end, and he was still keeping his identity hidden. And because of this, he’d reaped huge tactical advantages.
‘Now really, I must be off,’ said Drexler, his voice suddenly bored and efficient. ‘You’ve served a purpose to me, but now I’m done with you. Though you should probably know that since your employers do still have designs against you, I thought it’d be polite to lend them a hand, you know, just to get them off the mark. The time now is 10:31. At exactly 10:30, one minute ago, I organized for the Boston Field Office to receive a second tip concerning your location—’
I didn’t wait to hear any more. I hung up the phone.
I’d expected Drexler to organize a second tip-off about my location. It was why I’d stood by the window – to keep an eye out for any law enforcement approaching. And though, as of yet, the coast was still clear, I’d no doubt the hotel would soon be crawling with FBI.
I needed to get outside, hot-wire a car, and haul-ass.
I jumped into action. First, I pocketed the Ruger and the knife. Then, after uncoiling a wire hanger from the bedroom closet and folding it into my pocket, I left the room, and made my way down a staff stairwell and through a back exit.
I came out onto the hotel’s parking lot. But I understood I couldn’t use any of the cars there. When the authorities arrived, I knew they’d promptly investigate the vehicles on the premises, and quickly ascertain which, if any, were missing. So I passed straight through the car-park, hit the service road behind the hotel, then began heading west, along the back of the buildings neighboring The Eliot. Sixty yards later, I found what I was looking for.
Hidden behind a brick wall, there was a small parking lot, sign-posted “Staff,” which appeared to belong to a private members’ club. And immediately I knew this was a better place to take a car. No
t only because there’d be a considerable delay before the authorities started investigating neighboring properties. But also because at a staff car-park, people come and go less frequently, meaning my theft was more likely to go unnoticed for longer.
With this in mind, I approached an unexceptional silver Toyota Corolla, took the wire from my pocket, and negotiated one end of it under the rubber seal at the top of the window and penetrated the vehicle’s interior. Then, threading the wire into the car, I hooked it around the inner handle and popped the door. I then quickly went to work on starting the car, removing the casing from beneath the steering column and searching out the two wires which had to be brought into contact and not a moment later, the engine came roaring to life.
Then, getting behind the wheel, I wasted no time: I hustled the Corolla first onto the service road, and then onto the westbound lane of the I-95, which ran directly behind The Eliot. And then I bore down on the accelerator with everything I had, wishing it was Drexler’s throat.
Chapter 36
Friday, March 1, 2013, 5:22 p.m. EST – The Hotel Gansevoort, 9th Avenue, Manhattan.
As soon as I finished unpacking my equipment onto the bed of the master bedroom in the Manhattan Suite at The Gansevoort Hotel, I sat down and started thinking…
After I’d gotten out of Boston, I drove to New Haven. There I purchased a suit, a briefcase, two large maps (one of mainland America, one of just the eastern seaboard), two pads of paper, and a pack of biros, then checked into a motel and used their facilities to ice my bruising, and shower. Then, abandoning the car, I rode a Greyhound to Manhattan, after which I took a public bus to the Meatpacking District and checked into one of the more expensive suites at the five-star Hotel Gansevoort, using the second of my false credit cards. The logic behind my choice of hideout was simple: hide in plain sight, because it’s the last place anyone will think to look. And when I got inside the safety of the suite, I was overcome by a sudden urge to sit and think.
The first thing I considered was my status in the eyes of the authorities. I knew that by now the authorities would definitely know I’d been at Nine Columbus Square – there was no doubt that Milton Coleson had recognized me, and that the sniper would’ve seen enough to corroborate Coleson. However, what was more difficult to ascertain was how convinced they’d be of my guilt. Lilly’s body, and even more so those of the Rinaldi family, looked pretty damning. And I knew from my conversation with Parkes that there’d been speculation about my potential complicity with The Order even before Boston. Yet, at the same time, I knew there was plenty to cause them uncertainty. The forensic evidence, it seemed to me, was likely to offer them an inconclusive picture. And I reckoned there’d be significant question marks about why I’d been so careful not to kill the operatives.
And then there was the not inconsiderable factor of my history. After all, while I may have played fast and loose with the law early on in life, I’d then served my country for a decade and a half, risking my life on countless occasions. This had to count for something.
On the whole, I reckoned that opinions within American national security were likely to be divided: some would be convinced of my guilt, others of my innocence, and the rest would fall somewhere in between. And in all probability, this was what Drexler had been aiming for. He would’ve known it’d be impossible to completely convince the authorities of my guilt, so would’ve aimed instead to turn a significant enough number against me. Yet precisely who and how many had been turned, and thus what kind of approach American national security was going to take towards me, remained to be seen. It seemed to me most likely that the overall consensus would be that I needed to be brought in as a matter of top priority, and that serious steps were already being taken to achieve this. However, I was aware that if more people than I expected had bought Drexler’s ruse, the response could be more extreme. They could even be willing to make an attempt on my life.
This seemed less likely, but I had to be ready for it.
But though I was under threat, there were a couple of factors allowing me to stay a step ahead of the authorities. Firstly, there was the fact they couldn’t go public with their manhunt – it would be a fiasco to end all fiascos if they announced that one of their own men was wanted in relation to these attacks – and this meant they couldn’t use the public to help track me down. And secondly, there was the unique skill-set I’d accrued during my time spent as a con-artist, and then as a Bureau agent, which was allowing me to makes decisions that best kept me off their radar. And it was this which had led me to the safety of the suite.
But this suite wasn’t just going to be my hideout. It was also going to be the place from which I would figure out how to get to Drexler, because this was precisely what I’d resolved to do. This resolve had set in soon after I’d left Boston. Once I’d left the city, I had promptly rid myself of defeatism and started calmly analyzing the situation. Before long, I’d begun to see that although I was out of obvious leads, I wasn’t completely empty-handed. On the contrary, I had a wealth of information about Drexler – about his history and personality, as well as the attacks he’d already instigated – and I knew from experience that occasionally crucial things can be inferred, or second-guessed, from this kind of information. Things like what someone is planning next, or their whereabouts. Of course, I was under no illusions: I was aware that often when this kind of information is analyzed, it tells you nothing. But I’d resolved that if there was anything to be gleaned from these details, I was going to find it.
And once I’d decided this, immediately I’d begun to see there were factors working in my favor. For starters, I had time: there were more than three days before Drexler was set to execute Samuel and Vann, and a lot could be achieved in three days. And what was more, I was dealing with an enemy who’d complacently dismissed me as a threat which meant, if I did manage to track him down, I’d have on my side the all-important element of surprise.
So with a plan of action clear in my mind, and my spirits rallied, I’d gone to New Haven and purchased the items I needed to catalog and analyze what I knew – items which were now laid out next to me on the bed, along with a laptop which belonged to the hotel. And while I was aware that these tools were laughable compared to the FBI’s sophisticated gear, this didn’t dampen my hopes that I’d be able to see something they hadn’t. For one thing, I had a unique perspective on things – the perspective of having been on the run myself. For another, the Bureau were wasting their resources by focusing on irrelevant pursuits such as attempting to track me down.
Yet although I fancied my chances of finding something the Bureau had missed, there was somebody I desperately wanted to consult. Somebody who could not only give me a valuable insight into how I stood in the eyes of the authorities, but also had exceptional expertise when it came to tracking people down. Morton Giles. But so far I’d held off from calling him because I knew there was a good chance, given that he’d already been under suspicion for being in contact with me, that his activities were now being watched.
So I had to wait for him to contact me.
But then, just as I was thinking this, the Nokia abruptly started ringing, displaying an unknown number. And immediately I thought: it has to be Giles, calling from a new SIM…
‘Hello,’ I answered.
‘How the hell has this happened?’ growled Morton Giles. ‘The last I hear from you, you’re about to embark on a mission to recover your son. Then, all of a sudden, a string of bodies appear – most noticeably those of the entire Rinaldi family – and you’re being discussed as a serious candidate for the mastermind behind The Order.’
‘So these suspicions are big news?’ I said calmly.
‘The whole of bloody headquarters is talking about this, Saul, though of course it’s not been allowed to get any further. Could you imagine the outcry if the public got wind of this? Hell, I’ve even had to use a new SIM to call you because frankly I’m not sure at this point if they would hesitate to tap my ca
lls, goddamn it!’
Giles was seething, and understandably so. But I kept a cool head.
‘Just how seriously are these suspicions being taken?’ I asked.
‘You answer my question first,’ replied Mort. ‘How the hell has this happened?’
‘It was a set-up,’ I said. I then filled him in with everything that’d happened, right up to my escape from Boston.
When I finished, Giles was quiet for a bit, then said:
‘So things have gone from bad to worse.’
His tone was dark, but at least he was calmer.
‘Please Mort,’ I said gently, ‘I need to know: just how seriously are these suspicions being taken?’
Again he was silent a moment. Then he said:
‘It’s bad. But it could be worse.’
‘Go on.’
Giles sighed exhaustedly. ‘Well, from what I’ve heard on the grapevine – because of course I’ve not been told anything directly – the suspicions have gone all the way to the top. Fortunately, from the sounds of it, both Muldoon and The President have come down on your side: they don’t believe for a second you’re behind The Order, and think Boston was an attempt to frame you. However, as I understand it, there are some high-powered people who aren’t so convinced – namely, The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and The Director of the CIA. The latter, in particular, is apparently very ready to believe that an FBI agent is behind The Order. Meanwhile, analyses from forensics and post-mortems are still coming in and I’ve no idea whether they will help clear your name, or indict you further.’
‘And what’s the feeling within Hoover?’
‘Well, the official line – established by Muldoon – is that you’re not responsible for The Order. But, nonetheless, there’s still a significant minority who feel the accusations shouldn’t be dismissed outright, even if they’re not entirely convinced by them, and this group includes the likes of Alex Schneider. Parkes, on the other hand, is remaining poker-faced and is just reiterating that she wants you brought in for withholding information.’
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