by Chris Mooney
The fume hood running, Coop dipped the entire bag inside the solution. Then he clipped the bag to the pair of hooks mounted underneath the hood to allow it to dry. Ninhydrin reacted with the proteins and peptides left behind by fingerprints and left a telltale and easily identifiable deep blue or purple colour known as Rhuemann’s purple.
They gathered in the space between the portable fuming chamber and the door for the ventilated room so Kelly could record them and, if needed, show that no one had been moving around the trailer while they waited for the prints to be processed.
Minutes passed.
Darby checked her watch.
One hour and forty-eight minutes until the next bomb went off.
And where was Rosemary Shapiro?
Was Briggs ahead of the storm? Would he make it here in time?
Coop leaned into her and said, ‘If I find a good-quality latent print, I’ll transfer it to the fingerprint card and send it into IAFIS. People on the other end are expecting it, so it will go in fast. If he’s in the database, we’ll know in twenty minutes or less.’
Darby could see he wanted to ask her about why the gunman had deliberately left evidence behind for her. He didn’t ask, though, because they were being recorded. He didn’t want any of her responses as part of the record.
Twenty-two minutes passed until the fingerprints were visible on the cell phone.
‘Give it a few more minutes,’ Coop said. ‘I want to make sure the glue sets.’
Darby stared at the palm prints and latent fingerprints. The gunman hadn’t wiped down the phone before placing it inside the bag.
He left prints behind so we could identify him.
Not we – you, an inner voice added. He left this evidence behind for you.
Coop removed the phone and dusted the white plastic shell with a black granular fingerprint powder called ‘Black Widow’.
‘Got two, possibly three latent prints to work with,’ he said, examining the phone underneath a magnifier. ‘More than enough to get a hit in our system, provided he’s in it.’
He’s in the database, Darby thought. I’m sure of it.
27
+04.35
Darby quickly made her way through the MCP. The people in here, mostly federal agents, most of them men, all stopped what they were doing to look at her. Some just glanced at her while others outwardly stared. She could tell by their expressions that the news about finding evidence with her name written on it had already made its way through the ranks.
She wondered how long it would take for the media to find out. Surely someone had leaked it.
The door to the conference room was closed, but she could hear Gelfand talking on the other side of it, discussing the possibility of SWAT feeding an odourless gas into the lobby vents that would induce sleep. The problem was the gas wasn’t fast-acting. When the gunman noticed he was feeling groggy, he might put two-and-two together and decide to detonate his vest – and the remaining IEDs he planted in and around the city.
Gelfand had launched into a second possible plan, this one involving drugging bottled water and having it delivered to the lobby, when Darby opened the door.
The overhead lights had been turned off. Gelfand stood near the wall on her far right, next to a TV screen playing shaky aerial footage of the bomb disposal robot approaching the backpack taped underneath the bus stop bench. The sound was muted. The robot, she saw, was armed with a shotgun.
A puff of smoke from the gun barrel and then the backpack exploded, painting the sidewalk and the sides of the bus stop in a rainbow of bright colours.
‘Two teenage jerkoffs stuffed the backpack full of spray paint cans and taped it there,’ Gelfand told her. ‘They were going to call in a suspicious package when the bomb squad showed up. Pure coincidence. Patrol caught ’em sneaking out of that abandoned building on Drummond. They stuck around so they could film the paint can explosion on their phones, post it later on YouTube.’
Gelfand turned on the lights. Commissioner Donnelly was seated at the head of the table. Flanking him were two older African American men she had never met personally but recognized, both impeccably dressed and already groomed and made-up for TV: Boston mayor David Finch and Massachusetts governor Stewart Vaughan.
‘Gentlemen, this is Dr McCormick, the one who made contact with the gunman. She’s working with the Bureau in an advisory capacity.’
No introduction was needed. Darby could tell Vaughan and Finch knew exactly who she was. They regarded her with the barely contained contempt given to someone who had crashed a private party and refused to leave.
‘You have an update on the evidence you found?’ Gelfand asked.
Darby nodded and slid into her seat. ‘We pulled several quality latent prints off the phone and the paper bag. Agent Cooper is transferring them to print cards to run through IAFIS. The SIM card can possibly be repaired to a point where the techs can extract the data from it, but it will take time. The fact that the gunman included it suggests there’s something on there he wants us to find.
‘The phone contains an accelerometer, a device that measures the force of acceleration caused by either movement or gravity,’ Darby said. ‘That’s good news for us because it means we can track the movement of the phone, show where it travelled and how fast it was travelling, meaning we’ll know when the gunman was walking and when he was driving. With any luck, we may find out where he lives.’
‘How long until they have that data?’
‘The software they’re using is sophisticated but slow. Could be an hour or two, maybe more. That’s all I have on that front.’
‘Cooper told me about Danny Hill. Anything new there?’
‘Nothing at the moment,’ Gelfand said.
‘Where do we stand with Briggs?’
‘He crossed the Vermont border into New Hampshire about ten, fifteen minutes ago. Storm’s moving through New Hampshire right now but the troopers feel confident they can get him to the helicopter pad in time. He’s willing to talk to the gunman.’
‘Face-to-face?’
‘Briggs says he’s willing to go through with it.’
Governor Vaughan was shaking his head. ‘I told you: that’s not going to happen – especially after what just happened with Detective Hill,’ he said to Gelfand. ‘Briggs goes in there, this crazy lowlife will kill him on live TV, blow up the entire building.’
‘He’s not crazy,’ Darby said. Crazy was a word she didn’t like to use. It was a throwaway label that meant nothing.
All eyes had turned to her.
The governor took the lead. ‘Then what is he?’
‘Extremely intelligent and ruthlessly determined.’
‘The traits of a psychopath.’
‘Or a good politician or CEO. I’m not speaking pejoratively. The gunman is wedded to his goal and determined to see it through.’
‘And what, exactly, is his goal? What does he think he’s going to accomplish?’
‘Psychological destruction,’ Darby said. ‘He wants to psychologically destroy Edward Briggs.’
‘And then kill him.’
Darby shook her head. ‘If killing Briggs was his true objective, the gunman would have done it by now. We wouldn’t be sitting here – and he wouldn’t have gone through the fanfare – seizing the lobby, the hostages and the bombs, requesting the meeting. He’s gone to these great lengths because he wants everything on public record, wants Briggs and the people associated with him to suffer.’
‘But he killed Detective Hill.’
‘I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that was accidental. Hill was supposed to be at work today and called in sick; he wasn’t supposed to be home. He wants us to take a closer look at Hill, see how he’s connected with Briggs. Is there anything you can tell us?’
Headshakes all around the room.
‘Have you asked Briggs about Hill?’ Darby asked.
‘We will, after this briefing,’ the governor replied.
‘Good. I ca
n’t wait to speak to him.’
Governor Vaughan turned to Gelfand and said, ‘Howie, if Eddie Briggs goes in there, the gunman has got to relinquish the suicide vest and the other IED he’s got with him. He also has to tell us the location of all the other devices. Once they’ve been disarmed, then and only then, will we be amenable to having a discussion on whether or not we’re going to allow Ed to go in there with a camera crew.’ Then his gaze cut back to Darby. ‘You need to go back into the lobby and tell the gunman to disarm the second bomb.’
‘He threatened to kill me the next time I walked in there without Briggs.’ Darby suspected that would suit the governor just fine. The mayor and Donnelly, too.
‘He issued that same threat the first time and he didn’t kill you,’ Vaughan said.
She detected an undercurrent of contempt in his voice and body language. ‘Your point?’
‘I think it’s rather obvious. He deliberately left evidence behind with your name on it – and he wants us to call him Big Red, the nickname of your father. Clearly he wants to keep you involved, so he can’t kill you. He needs you to help carry out his vendetta against us.’
‘Which is?’
The governor’s face darkened. ‘I don’t care for what you’re implying, Doctor McCormick.’
‘Vendetta is a very specific word.’
The governor waved it away. ‘Semantics.’
‘If there’s something you want to tell us, now would be a good time, Governor.’
Vaughan regarded her from across the table. Before becoming governor, he had been the vice president of a global soda company. He had successfully managed to keep soda machines carrying his product in the poorest of schools in the country, and he had been an instrumental figure in defeating former New York Mayor Bloomberg’s health crusade to fight adolescent obesity by limiting the size of soda drinks. In turn, the soda lobbyists had financed his campaign for governor. The man’s twenty-one million net worth didn’t hurt, either.
‘You’ve had two private meetings with him,’ Vaughan said. ‘We have no idea what transpired during those two interactions.’
‘I told everything to SAC Gelfand. If you’re looking to corroborate what I said, you can talk to the witness the gunman released.’
‘Anita Barnes, I’m told, was blindfolded. She couldn’t have seen anything.’
‘Are you suggesting, sir, some impropriety on my part?’
‘The FBIRD you were wearing had no record of your conversation.’
‘The gunman is using an audio jammer that utilizes either federal or military-grade technology.’
‘Did you see this jamming unit?’
‘No, but that’s the only way he could prevent the conversation from being recorded.’
‘We’ll have to take your word for it, then.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Maybe you … forgot to turn it on?’
‘I’m sure SAC Gelfand explained to you that the gunman had me strip down and throw my clothes out the front door because he suspected I was wired.’
‘And the security camera at the convenience store?’
‘What about it?’
‘You found that rather fortuitously.’
Darby scratched the corner of her lip. Her voice was calm when she spoke. ‘Are you suggesting that I’m working in collusion with the gunman?’
‘I’m not suggesting anything.’
‘Good. Because you would look rather silly leaving this meeting holding your teeth.’ Darby didn’t give the governor or anyone else a chance to rebuke. She swung her attention to Gelfand and said, ‘Did you ask Briggs about Anita Barnes?’
Gelfand didn’t get a chance to answer. Governor Vaughan said, ‘Howie, she needs to sign the forms, as we discussed.’
‘We have –’ Darby glanced at her watch ‘– one hour and seventeen minutes until the next bomb goes off, and we’re talking about paperwork? Again?’
‘You have an inherent bias against BPD and the city of Boston.’
You’re goddamn right I do, Darby thought. You people murdered my father, and when I uncovered the truth you murdered my career and tried to murder my reputation.
‘And your priorities are uncannily aligned with the gunman’s,’ Vaughan said. ‘As such, we’re concerned that you may take advantage of what’s going on –’
‘Choose your words very carefully, sir.’
‘– and may use it to further your cause, personal vendetta, whatever you want to call it, against the city. It’s not unreasonable for us to protect ourselves.’
‘You mean cover your asses.’ She looked to Howie for support.
‘You have to sign the papers.’ Gelfand looked sad when he said it. ‘That’s not coming from me. Those are the orders from Above.’
Vaughan said, ‘Did you tell Howie about what you were doing inside the lobby this morning?’
‘I was there to meet with Anna Lopez with CSU. She asked me to consult on a case she’s working on – those two retired cops who were murdered last year, Ventura and Owen.’
‘So you’ve seen the case files?’
‘No. Lopez only told me about the case last night, she didn’t get into any specifics. I haven’t seen any materials.’
‘I see. And Rosemary Shapiro?’
‘What about her?’
‘Did you tell Mr Gelfand you hired her to bring a civil suit against the city?’
‘Shapiro isn’t my lawyer.’
‘But you met with her to discuss a possible civil suit against the city.’
‘I met with her once a year or so ago, but I didn’t hire her.’
‘Have you hired another lawyer?’
‘No, but this conversation is making me wonder whether or not I should change my mind,’ Darby said. ‘Howie, have you talked with Shapiro?’
Gelfand shook his head. ‘She hasn’t called back, and she isn’t answering her cell phone,’ he said.
‘The secretary said she was home sick.’
‘I know. Shapiro has three homes – the Cape, Beacon Hill and a ski house in northern New Hampshire. We’ve sent agents to Beacon Hill and the Cape.’
A cell phone rang – Howie’s. He studied the incoming call on the screen.
‘Excuse me,’ he said, heading for the door. ‘I’ve got to take this.’
‘What’s going on?’ Vaughan demanded.
‘I’ll be right back.’
Stewart Vaughan had no intention of remaining seated like some schoolboy. He got to his feet and adjusted the cuffs of his monogrammed shirt, complete with gold cufflinks, and moved around the table with the urgency of someone who believed in his own importance.
The mayor, not to be outdone, also stood to leave. He shot her a withering look designed to intimidate her. Darby winked at him and took out her cell phone. Commissioner Donnelly remained seated.
28
+04.46
Donnelly spoke after the door clicked shut.
‘I don’t think they’re fans.’
‘I’d say that was a safe bet,’ Darby replied, tapping her finger against the screen of her iPhone. ‘What’s the connection between Briggs and the first hostage, Anita Barnes?’
Donnelly didn’t answer. He placed his meaty hand on the thick manila folder in front of him and joylessly pushed it across the table.
The folder was bound together by an elastic band, the stack of papers inside it at least two inches thick.
‘I’m not signing anything,’ Darby said.
‘That’s your choice. If you don’t, you’ll be excluded from the investigation. We’ll have someone drive you back to your hotel.’
Darby placed her smartphone on the table. ‘Who’s going to go into the lobby with Briggs? Grove?’
‘He’s the most qualified.’
‘If you send anyone else in there, you’re sentencing those hostages to death.’
‘You’re probably right. But that’s a chance the governor and mayor are willing to take. Howie and I have a different
opinion. We want you involved in this, but our hands are tied.’
‘By the mayor and governor.’
‘By the banks,’ Donnelly replied. ‘The banks and the insurance carriers and underwriters. There’s going to be a lot of property damage when this is over and – and I hope to God I’m wrong about this next part – a lot of deaths. We’re talking major civil suits against the city. Sure, the suits will drag it out for years, but lawyers cost money – a lot of money – and the city hires the best money can buy. What they really need is a scapegoat: you.’
‘There’s a newsflash.’
‘In the end, someone always has to pay, be held accountable. It sure as hell isn’t going to be Vaughan or Finch. They don’t take the blame, they assign it.’
‘Let me guess,’ Darby said. ‘Because I took charge of the situation in the lobby this morning, and because the gunman nominated me as his mouthpiece and then purposely left behind a bag with my name written on it – ahead of time – a lawyer will argue collusion.’
Donnelly nodded solemnly.
‘Small problem,’ Darby said. ‘I have no idea who this son of a bitch is.’
‘Maybe.’
‘No, not maybe. If I knew who he was, you’d have his name.’
‘Let me be real clear on this,’ Donnelly said. ‘I’m not even remotely suggesting that you’re withholding information. What I am suggesting is that it is possible you might know him. Did you get a solid look at his face while you were in the lobby?’
‘No.’
‘And in the video evidence we collected so far, we can’t see his face – and you haven’t heard his actual voice. Is it possible he’s disguising it because of you? Because you may know who he is?’
Darby said nothing, knowing exactly where Donnelly was leading her. She felt a shiver along her spine that tightened her scalp.
‘If the gunman ends up walking out of there alive and you do, in fact, know him, you’re screwed,’ Donnelly said. His tone was cold, matter of fact. ‘If you don’t know him but he says you do, again, you’re screwed. Either way there will be an investigation. A grand jury will be formed and more than likely criminal charges will be brought forth – not because the charges will have any merit to them, necessarily, but because our mayor and governor need a scapegoat, like you said.’