“I have two theories here. First, the perpetrator may be someone who’s upset over one of your other cases. Lawyers, particularly controversial ones like yourself, make easy targets for some wacko or an angry opponent who you beat in court, that kind of thing.”
“And the second theory?”
“Perhaps you are being targeted by a co-conspirator in the Smithsonian crime. It’s no secret that we believe that the murder of Horace Langley, and the theft of the Booth diary pages, was a group effort. Very unlikely that it could have been the work of a lone actor, unless…well…”
“Yes?” Blackstone said, inviting him to finish his sentence.
“I was going to say, unless it was a bad actor who was pretty talented, you know, skilled. And I’m talking about a very, very professional type—someone who can do a pretty complicated burglary.”
“And a fairly cold-blooded murder,” Blackstone said, looking the detective in the eye.
“No question about that,” Cheski said with a smile. “Look, I’m not here to discuss your defense of Ms. Archmont. That’s your business. You’ve got a job to do, just like I do. But I want to find out who else was working with Vinnie, Vinnie Archmont, to do this crime. And if I can do this by tracking who has been coming after you, then I am going to do that. She was a conspirator all right. But I want to know who pulled the trigger. Could have been her. Most likely, though, someone else.”
Blackstone nodded, but said nothing, not at first. He was studying Detective Victor Cheski closely.
“So,” the detective continued, “you have some options here.”
“Options?”
“I understand my role as an investigator in the attack on you overlaps with my role as investigator in the Smithsonian case. There’s a good part in that. I can try to put the pieces together to see if there is a connection between the two. But there’s also a difficult part.”
“Like, creating a possible conflict of interest?”
“Right,” Cheski said. “Now if you feel uncomfortable in the least with me investigating your shooting incident while I’m also working with AUSA Hartz on the Smithsonian prosecution against you, just say the word. Then I’ll have the department assign another detective to work your shooting.”
“I’ve got no objections,” Blackstone said. “I’m convinced you’ll do your job.”
“Okay,” Cheski said. “I’ve got a form here for you to sign, if you would. It simply indicates that you have no objection to my continuing to investigate the crime committed against you.”
Then Cheski pointed to the bottom of the form.
“Just sign here.”
Blackstone glanced at the form and then signed on the line.
“Is that it?” Blackstone asked.
“I have the report from the local deputy. That gives me a good start. But there was one area where I’d like some clarification.”
“Sure.”
“Who knew you were going to be at the horse stable that day?”
“My office. But they don’t tell clients, or outsiders, where I am going to be. Especially if I’m involved in personal activities not dealing with my law practice or my teaching.”
“Anybody else?” detective Cheski asked, eyeing Blackstone closely.
Blackstone was aware of two others, but he wasn’t about to share that with the detective. In a phone call once with Billy Baxter, the lawyer from the Judiciary Committee, he had mentioned he was leaving a horse stable, so someone there might have been able to piece together which stable that was. But there was no way he was going to alert Cheski to his recent dealings with the Judiciary attorney, as that would just lead him to investigate the meeting between Blackstone and Senator Collings and its explosive aftermath.
The other was Vinnie, to whom he had made a vague reference in his telephone call the day before he had driven out to the equine center. But for attorney–client confidentiality reasons, among others, there was no way that he was going to open the door for the chief investigator for AUSA Henry Hartz to gain access to his intimate conversations with his client.
“Let me think on that,” Blackstone said casually. “But I have a question of my own,” he added. “How about the forensics on my shooting?”
The detective smiled at that.
“We’ve already retrieved a spent bullet at the scene. I rushed it right over to the FBI lab and told them to check it immediately. They say it was fired from an AK-47. Sad. There’s a whole lot of those kinds of weapons out there in the wrong hands. So, as you can see, we are prioritizing your shooting, Professor.”
“Yes, thanks for that,” Blackstone said.
As the detective turned to leave, Blackstone asked one more question.
“I was also trying to figure something else out,” he said, stopping the detective in his tracks.
“Yes?”
“Considering the fact that the Smithsonian is a federal institution, I was just wondering…” Blackstone said, letting his voice trail off.
Detective Cheski was waiting patiently with the signed form in his hand.
“I was wondering why,” Blackstone continued, “a District of Columbia police detective would be placed at the head of the Smithsonian investigation, rather than someone from the FBI?”
“Actually,” Cheski replied, “Special Agent Johnson from the FBI is working this jointly with me.”
“Oh,” is all Blackstone said to that.
CHAPTER 38
The following day Blackstone was sent down to the physical rehabilitation unit for a functional evaluation of his shoulder. The results were optimistic. In surgery only one of Blackstone’s shoulder tendons had needed any repair, and that was only minor.
So, with his agreement to abide to a schedule of outpatient rehab, Blackstone talked the medical staff into releasing him the following day.
When Blackstone was returned to his hospital room after physical rehabilitation later that morning he found that Julia had come by and dropped off most of his file in Vinnie’s case: a pile of brown expandable files each six inches thick and several black notebooks, which were now on the floor next to his bed.
He eased himself into bed along with one of the files and started working his way through the testimony transcripts that were contained there.
Back on the same day that Blackstone had been shot, AUSA Hartz had sent a courier with a package from the U.S. Attorney’s Office over to his defense law firm. It was a complete copy of the transcripts from the testimony of the witnesses at the grand jury proceeding in which Vinnie was indicted. Blackstone had made a discovery demand for it, and Hartz had complied by sending copies of the transcripts over to him.
Blackstone knew that there was no guarantee that this would be the same evidence that would ultimately be presented at trial. But it was a good indication of the direction in which Hartz would be heading.
As he reviewed the transcripts, Blackstone discovered that at the grand jury, one of the security guards from the Smithsonian testified that on the night of the murder he had made the rounds a few hours before the estimated time of Langley’s death, around 7:45 p.m., and decided to poke his head into Langley’s office. He spoke briefly with the Secretary who appeared to be in no danger, and who was working at his desk.
Langley had informed the guard that he would be working late but wasn’t expecting anyone.
The head of security for the Smithsonian also testified. He discussed the electronic keypad access to the side door. He described how anyone given the access code had to be logged into the computer security system. Three days before his murder, Horace Langley had logged the fact that he had given the access code to “Ms. Vinnie Archmont.”
The Smithsonian security chief also said that when the door was activated after hours, it registered an entry into the central security system indicating the time and also the code identification used to access the door. He said that the night of the murder, six minutes and two seconds before Langley’s estimated time of death, the side
door was activated by someone using the code number that had been assigned only to Horace Langley.
And then, five minutes, ten seconds after Langley’s murder, the same door was activated again, presumably by the killer, also using the same code number.
“So,” Henry Hartz asked the witness during the grand jury, “according to your security logs, who would have had access to that door using Horace Langley’s personal code?”
“Well,” the security chief said, “Horace Langley of course.”
“And, who else?”
“The only other person, according to our records, would have been the one person that Mr. Langley was recorded as having given the code.”
“And that was, who?”
“Ms. Vinnie Archmont.”
Another security guard testified that earlier in the day of the murder, he had logged Vinnie in at the main entrance as having visited Horace Langley.
“Was she carrying any art supplies?”
“Not that I could see,” the guard testified.
“Had you seen her carry art supplies to the Castle on previous occasions?”
“Sure. I think they were things she was using in doing some sort of sculpture of Mr. Langley, as I recall.”
“But on the day of the murder—no art supplies?”
“No, sir.”
FBI special agent Johnson testified about his investigation at the scene of the crime when he arrived the night of the murder.
He was not asked, nor did he answer, any questions about the drinking glass on Langley’s desk.
During the grand jury, agent Johnson identified the blank pad of paper left on the top of the desk, which Blackstone later had inspected and from which the Langley note was reconstructed through the imprint evidence.
“Did you,” Hartz asked him, “gain access to the locked inside of Mr. Langley’s desk?”
“Yes,” agent Johnson pointed out. “Detective Victor Cheski, of the DC Police, was with us at the scene—he had gained access and was in the process of personally checking the contents of Secretary Langley’s desk, but then he received a call from his headquarters, and he stepped away from the desk for a few minutes. So I took over and inventoried the contents myself.”
“Did you find a diary or a journal of some kind?”
“Yes,” Johnson replied. “A journal with the preprinted date at the top. It was Mr. Langley’s personal diary. There was writing on the page that had the date of the murder at the top.”
“What did it say?”
“Well, it contained a list of some meetings and other tasks that Mr. Langley had been engaged in. None that seemed to relate to the crime—except for two.”
“Would you describe them for us?”
“Late in the day, which appears to correspond to Vinnie Archmont’s visit with Mr. Langley, the Secretary had made a notation.”
“What did it say?”
“These words—‘Vinnie re: Booth—I said no.’ That was all he wrote at that time.”
“And after that meeting, but on that same day, was there another significant entry made by Mr. Langley?”
“Yes. Mr. Langley wrote, ‘Booth work tonight.’ ”
Another witness testified that Horace Langley was the only one with access to the locked safe where the Booth diary pages had been kept. At the scene of the crime, the safe was open, and the folder containing the Booth diary pages had been removed, presumably by Langley so he could study the pages in his office that night.
Last, Detective Victor Cheski testified.
He revealed the results of his department’s investigation, in cooperation with the FBI, into the international activities of Vinnie Archmont.
Cheski said that Vinnie had attended a seminar of the European Theosophical Society in Scotland, accompanied by “an English member of the House of Lords named Magister Dee, who was one of the speakers at the private conference.”
The conclave, the detective explained, was held a year before the discovery of the missing Booth diary pages.
According to the detective, two speakers, one being Lord Dee, linked the pages of the John Wilkes Booth diary that had disappeared to the Freemasons. And according to Cheski, Lord Dee stated that in his opinion, if ever found, the missing diary pages “may prove to contain untold secrets that we Freemasons have been pursuing for centuries—if not millennia.”
At the secret conference, the other speaker, a Mr. Radfield Kemper, mentioned the “need for us to take radical steps to realize the Theosophical mission that the formal hierarchy of the Freemasons has, sadly, lacked the courage to pursue. It is now up to us to take all necessary action, including force if necessary, to hasten the rise of the new esoteric elite. By seizing for ourselves our inheritance—including the artifacts that will help us finish the task—the task that those like the Knights of the Golden Circle had left undone. I agree with our brother, Lord Dee—the Booth pages may have been removed and hidden immediately after the Lincoln assassination because of the explosive and monumental secret carried within them.”
Cheski testified that one witness who had attended the small conclave heard Vinnie overflowing with praise about the seminar. Even more damaging, Vinnie had been overheard praising specifically what Mr. Radfield Kemper had said.
But Blackstone’s review of the transcripts was suddenly interrupted.
He looked up and saw the cheery, wrinkled face of Reverend John Lamb looking at him in the hospital room.
His uncle patted his leg and talked with him about how he was recovering. After some small talk, Reverend Lamb’s face grew somber.
“Julia from your office sent me a copy of the full text of the Horace Langley note.”
“Yes—you, and one other expert, have gotten copies of that note. You understand the confidentiality requirements?”
“Oh yes,” he said. “Julia explained all that. No problem.”
Then he said, “J.D., such a terrible thing—you being attacked like this.”
“Well, they missed my heart,” Blackstone said. “Though I suppose some folks might say that would be the safest place for me to have taken a bullet.”
Reverend Lamb chuckled a bit at that, but shook his head.
“No, I wouldn’t agree with that,” his uncle said. “I think you have a very deep heart. The deeper the heart, the greater the wounds.”
Then Lamb added, “I did want you to know that I have been studying that note extensively, almost around the clock, since Julia sent it over to me. But I won’t go into that now. You need to get some rest. We should talk soon.”
“Yes, let’s do that,” Blackstone said.
Reverend Lamb placed his hand on the sheet over Blackstone’s leg and squeezed his big toe.
“Take care, J.D.,” he said. “Watch out, lad. There are dangerous forces at play here.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” Blackstone said with a half-grin.
“No,” Lamb said. “I don’t mean that. Of course, protect yourself, by all means—from those that can kill the body. But even more than that, watch out, J.D. Be on the alert against those that can steal the soul.”
Then he gave Blackstone’s toe another squeeze and walked out of the hospital room.
CHAPTER 39
Frieda was keeping the caller on hold while she paged Blackstone. It was his first day back to the law firm after his discharge from the hospital. He had dutifully reported to physical therapy early that morning. Now it was mid-morning, and he was in his cluttered office in the thick of trial preparation for Vinnie’s case, trying to work effectively around the awkwardness of his shoulder sling.
“J.D.,” Frieda announced on the intercom. “I’ve got Colin Reading on the line.”
“From England?”
“Yes.”
Blackstone remembered him as the personal secretary for Lord Magister Dee.
This is going to be interesting, the lawyer thought as he punched the button to take the call.
“Professor Blackstone?”
&nb
sp; “Yes, Colin. What can I do for you?”
Blackstone looked at his watch. With the time difference, it was evening over in England.
“We have been watching your defense of Ms. Archmont with great interest.”
“I am sure you have.”
“Do you mind discussing the case rather briefly?”
“No,” Blackstone replied. “But I will only do it with Lord Dee personally. No offense, but I don’t want any middlemen.”
“Absolutely. We fully understand,” Reading said. “Please hold, and Lord Dee will be with you directly.”
This has got to be important, to interrupt one of Lord Dee’s evening séances, Blackstone said, amusing himself.
A few minutes later, Lord Dee was on the line.
“Professor Blackstone, so good to talk with you again,” he began in his deep British baritone.
“I’m afraid that I will have to remind you,” Blackstone began, skipping the niceties, “of the caveat that I imposed at the beginning of Vinnie’s case when you paid my retainer fee. I instructed you then, and I will remind you again, that the mere fact that you are paying my bill as a third party to her case will in no way be allowed to impair my professional judgment as her defense attorney.”
“Of course, that is fully understood.”
“And further, that I cannot divulge any attorney-client communications that have transpired between Vinnie and me. Nor will I reveal my legal strategies or confidential work product we have uncovered in her defense.”
“Agreed.”
“Lastly,” Blackstone continued, “I still need to belabor the obvious—if it will help Vinnie’s defense and assist in proving her innocence, and if I have any credible basis at all, I won’t hesitate to point the finger at you. To implicate you personally in the Smithsonian crime. Do you understand that?”
There was a pause before Dee responded.
“You have,” Lord Dee said, “rather thrown down the gauntlet with that, haven’t you?”
“I prefer to use a slightly more American metaphor,” Blackstone countered. “I’ve just fired off a warning shot. A little like the battles of Lexington and Concord. Consider yourself, Lord Dee, having been put on notice.”
The Rose Conspiracy Page 18