"Okay, hurry. We had another clinic shooting and we're bending deadline."
I quickly brought him up to date on what I had and what had happened with the FBI. He seemed to forget all about the clinic shooting and the deadline, repeatedly saying that what I had was fantastic and was going to be a fantastic story. I left out the part about Warren losing his job and Walling's attempt to scam me. I told him where I was and what I wanted to do. He approved it.
"We're probably going to need the whole news hole for this clinic stuff anyway," he said. "At least the next couple of days. It's going crazy here. I could use you on rewrite."
"Sorry."
"Yeah. Well, you go ahead and play it out and see what you get, then let me know. This is going to be great, Jack."
"I hope so."
Glenn started talking about the possibilities again in terms of journalism awards and kicking the competition's ass, breaking a national story. While I listened, Walling stepped into the office with a man I assumed was Bob Backus. He also wore a gray suit but had the air of the man in charge. He looked like he was in his mid- to late thirties and was still in good shape. He had a pleasant look on his face, short-cropped brown hair and piercing blue eyes. I held one finger up to signal I was almost done. I cut in on Glenn.
"Greg, I gotta go."
"Okay, well let me know. And one thing, Jack."
"What?"
"Get me some art."
"Right."
As I hung up, I thought that might be a little too hopeful on his part. Getting a photographer in on this would be a long shot. I had to worry about getting myself in first.
"Jack, this is Bob Backus, assistant special agent in charge. He leads my team. Bob, Jack McEvoy of the Rocky Mountain News."
We shook hands and Backus had a vise for a grip. That was as standard FBI macho as the suit. As he spoke he reached down absentmindedly to the desk and straightened the calendar.
"Always glad to meet one of our friends in the Fourth Estate. Especially one that doesn't come from inside the beltway."
I just nodded. It was bullshit and everybody there knew it.
"Jack, why don't we go over to the Boardroom and get a cup of coffee," Backus said. "It's been a long day. I'll show you around a little on the way."
As we went upstairs Backus said nothing of consequence other than to express condolences about my brother. After the three of us were seated with our coffee at one of the tables in the cafeteria called the Boardroom, he got down to business.
"Jack, we are off the record," Backus said. "Everything that you see or hear while in Quantico is off the record. Are we clear on that?"
"Yes. For the time being."
"Okay. If you want to talk about changing the agreement, talk to me or Rachel and we'll hash it out. Would you be willing to sign an agreement to that effect?"
"Sure. But I'm going to be the one who writes it."
Backus nodded as if I had scored a point in a debate final.
"Fair enough." He moved his coffee cup to the side, brushed some unseen impurity off his palms and leaned across the table toward me. "Jack, we've got a status meeting in fifteen minutes. As I am sure Rachel has told you, we are going full speed. We'd be criminally negligent, in my opinion, if we proceeded with this investigation in any other way. I've got my entire team on it, eight other BSS agents on loan, two techs assigned full-time and six field offices involved. I can't remember when we've had that kind of commitment to an investigation before."
"I'm glad to hear that . . . Bob."
He didn't seem to flinch at my use of his first name. It had been a small test. He was seemingly treating me as an equal, calling me by my first name often. I decided to see what would happen if I did the same. So far, so good.
"You have done some very fine work," Backus continued. "What you have done has given us a solid blueprint. It's a start and I want to tell you we're already more than twenty-four solid hours into it."
Behind Backus I saw the agent who had spoken to me in Walling's office sit down at another table with a cup of coffee and a sandwich. He watched us as he began to eat.
"We are talking about a tremendous amount of resources being committed to the investigation," Backus said. "But right now our number one priority is one of containment."
It was going exactly the way I had expected and I had to struggle to keep a look on my face that did not give away that I knew I held sway over the FBI and the investigation. I had leverage. I was an insider.
"You don't want me to write about it," I said quietly.
"Yes, that's exactly right. Not yet, at least. We know that you have enough, even without what you've learned from us, to write a hell of a story. It's an explosive story, Jack. If you write about it out there in Denver it is going to attract attention. Overnight it will be on the network and in every newspaper. Then "Hard Copy" and the rest of the TV tabloids. Anybody who doesn't have his head in the sand is going to know about it. And, Jack, plain and simple, we can't have that. Once the offender knows we know about him, he could disappear. If he is smart, and we already know he is damn smart, he will disappear. We'll never get him then. You don't want that. We're talking about the person who killed your brother. You don't want that, do you?"
I nodded that I understood the dilemma and was silent a moment as I composed my reply. I looked from Backus to Walling and then back to Backus.
"My paper has already invested a lot of time and money," I said. "I've got the story down cold. Just so you understand, I could write a story tonight that says authorities are conducting a nationwide investigation into the likelihood that a serial killer of cops has been operating for as long as three years without detection."
"As I said, you've done very good work and nobody's arguing what kind of story this is."
"So then what are you proposing? I just kill it and walk away, wait for you to hold a press conference one day when, and if, you get this guy?"
Backus cleared his throat and leaned back. I glanced over at Walling but her face showed nothing.
"I won't sugarcoat it," Backus said. "But, yes, I want you to sit on the story for a little while."
"Until when? What's 'a little while'?"
Backus looked around the cafeteria as if he had never been there. He answered without looking at me.
"Until we get this person."
I whistled low.
"And what would I get for sitting on the story? What would the Rocky Mountain News get?"
"First and foremost, you'd be helping us catch your brother's killer. If that is not enough for you, I'm sure we could work out some sort of exclusivity agreement on the arrest of the suspect."
No one spoke for a long moment because it was clear the ball was in my court. I weighed my words carefully before finally leaning forward across the table and speaking.
"Well, Bob, as I think you know, this is one of those rare occasions when you guys don't hold all the cards and can't call all of the shots. This is my investigation, you see? I started it and I'm not just going to drop out. I'm not going to go back to Denver and sit behind my desk and wait for the phone to ring. I'm in and if you don't keep me in, then I go back to write the story. It will be in the paper Sunday morning. It's our best circulation day."
"You'd do that to your own brother?" Walling said, the words tight with anger. "Don't you give a shit?"
"Rachel, please," Backus said. "It's a good point. What we-"
"I give a shit," I said. "I was the only one who did. So don't try to lay any guilt on me. My brother stays dead whether you find this guy or not and whether I write the story or not."
"Okay, Jack, we're not questioning your motives here," Backus said, his hands raised in a calming gesture. "We seem to have gotten into an adversarial stance and I don't want that. Why don't you clearly tell me what you want. I'm sure we are going to work this out right here. Before the coffee even gets cold."
"It's simple," I said quickly. "Put me on the investigation. Complete access as
an observer. I won't write a word until we either get the son of a bitch or give up."
"That's blackmail," Walling said.
"No, it's the agreement I'm offering to make," I responded. "It's actually a concession because I have the story now. Having to sit on it is against my instincts and against what I do."
I looked at Backus. Walling was angry but I knew it didn't matter. Backus would make the call.
"I don't think we can do that, Jack," he finally said. "It's against bureau regulations to bring somebody in like that. It could be dangerous to you as well."
"I don't care about that. Any of it. That's the deal. Take it or leave it. Call whoever you've got to call. But that's the deal."
Backus pulled his cup in front of him and looked down into the still steaming blackness. He hadn't even sipped it.
"This proposal is well above my level of authority," he said. "I'll have to get back to you."
"When?"
"I'll make the call right now."
"What about the status conference?"
"They can't start without me. Why don't both of you wait here. This shouldn't take long."
Backus stood up and carefully slid his chair into the table.
"Just so we're clear," I said before he turned away, "if allowed into this as an observer, with two exceptions I will not write about the case until we have an arrest or you determine it is fruitless and focus your primary efforts on other cases."
"What are the exceptions?" Backus asked.
"One is if you ask me to write about it. There may come a time that you'll want to flush this guy out with a story. I'll write it then. The other exception is if the story leaks. If this shows up in any other paper or on TV, all bets are off. Immediately. If I even get wind that somebody else is about to break it, I'll break it myself first. This is my goddamn story."
Backus looked at me and nodded.
"I won't be long."
After he left, Walling looked at me and quietly said, "If that had been me, I would have called your bluff."
"That was no bluff," I said. "That was for real."
"If that's true, that you'd trade catching the guy who killed your brother for a story, then that makes me feel very sad for you. I'm going to get more coffee."
She got up then and left me. As I watched her walk back to the concession counter my mind wandered over what she had said and then came to rest on the lines by Poe that I had read the night before and that would not leave my memory.
I dwelt alone In a world of moan And my soul was a stagnant tide
22
When I entered the conference room with Backus and Walling, there were few seats in the room without agents in them. The status meeting was set up with agents sitting around the long table and then an outside layer of sitters on chairs lining the walls. Backus pointed to a chair on the outer rim and signaled me to sit. He and Walling then went to the two remaining slots at the center of the table. The chairs had apparently been exclusively reserved for them. I felt a lot of eyes on me as the stranger but I reached down to the floor and fiddled with my computer satchel, acting like I was looking for something so I did not have to meet any of their stares.
Backus had taken the deal. Or rather, whoever he had called had taken the deal. I was along for the ride, with Agent Walling assigned to baby-sit-as she called it. I had written out and signed an agreement stating that I would not write about the investigation until its fruition or disbanding, or in the event of the occurrence of either of the exceptions I had mentioned earlier. I had asked Backus about a photographer joining me and he said that wasn't part of the deal. But he did agree to consider specific requests for photography. It was the best I could do for Glenn.
After Backus and Walling were settled in their seats and interest in me lagged, I looked about. There were a dozen other men and three women in the room, including Walling. Most of the men were in shirtsleeves and appeared to have been at whatever they were doing for a while. There were a lot of Styrofoam cups, a lot of paperwork on laps and on the table. A woman was making her way around the room handing out a sheaf of papers to each agent. I noticed one of the agents was the sharp-faced man I had encountered in Walling's office and then had seen again in the cafeteria. When Walling had gone to refill her coffee cup, I had seen him get up from his meal and go to the food counters to talk to her. I couldn't hear what was said but I could tell she had dismissed him and he didn't seem too happy about it.
"Okay, people," Backus said. "Let's get this going if we can. It's been a long day and they're probably only going to get longer from here."
The murmur of conversation abruptly halted. As smoothly as possible I reached down to my computer bag and slid out a notebook. I opened it to a fresh page and got ready to take notes.
"First of all, a short announcement," Backus said. "The new man you see seated against the wall is Jack McEvoy. He is a reporter from the Rocky Mountain News and he plans to be with us until this is over. It is his fine work that resulted in this task force being formed. He discovered our Poet. He has agreed not to write about our investigation until we have the offender in custody. I want all of you to extend him every courtesy. He has the special agent in charge's blessing to be here."
I felt the eyes on me again and I sat frozen with my notebook and pen in hand, as if I had been caught at a crime scene with blood on my hands.
"If he's not going to write, how come he's got the notebook out?"
I looked toward the familiar voice and saw it was the sharp-faced man from Walling's office who had asked the question.
"He needs to take notes, so that when he does write he has the facts," Walling said, unexpectedly coming to my defense.
"That'll be the day one of them reports the facts," the agent threw back at her.
"Gordon, let's not make Mr. McEvoy uncomfortable," Backus said, smiling. "I trust he will do a good job. The special agent in charge trusts that he will. And, in fact, he has done an excellent job up until now so we are going to give him both the benefit of the doubt and our cooperation."
I watched the one called Gordon shake his head in dismay, his face darkening. At least I was getting clues right away about whom to steer clear of. The next came when the woman with the handouts passed by me without giving me anything.
"This will be our last group meeting," Backus said. "Tomorrow most of us separate and the OC for this investigation will move to Denver, site of the latest case. Rachel will remain case agent and coordinator. Brass and Brad will stay here to do the collating and all that good stuff. I want hard-copy reports from all agents by eighteen hundred eastern to Denver and Quantico every day. For now use the fax of the Denver field office. The number should be on the printout you just received. We'll set up our own lines and we'll get those numbers to you as soon as we do. Now, let's go over what we've got. It's very important that we're all on the same wavelength. I don't want anything to slip through the cracks on this one. We've had enough of that already."
"We better not screw up," Gordon said sarcastically. "We've also got the press watching us."
A few people laughed but Backus cut it off.
"All right, all right, Gordon, you've made your disagreement loud and clear. I'm going to yield to Brass for a few minutes and she'll go over what we've got so far."
A woman across the table from Backus cleared her throat. She spread three pages of what looked like computer printouts in front of her on the table and stood up.
"Okay," she said. "We have six dead detectives in six states. We also have six unsolved homicides that the detectives had been working individually at the time of their own death. The bottom line is we don't feel comfortable yet making a firm commitment to whether we have one or two offenders out there-or possibly even more, though this seems unlikely. Our hunch, however, is that we are dealing with one but at the moment I don't have a lot backing that up. What we do feel comfortable with is that the deaths of the six detectives are certainly linked and therefore most likely the wo
rk of one hand. For the moment our emphasis is on this offender. The one we are calling the Poet. Beyond that, we only have the theory of linkage to the other cases. We'll talk about them first. First, let's start with the detectives. Take a look at the first PVR in your package for a few seconds and then I'll point out some things."
I looked at everyone studying the handout and felt annoyed at being left out. I decided that after the meeting I would talk to Backus about it. I looked over at Gordon and saw him looking at me. He winked at me and then turned his face to the reports in front of him. I then saw Walling get up and come around the table to my side of the room. She handed me a copy of the printout. I nodded my thanks but she had already headed back to her spot. I noticed that as she walked back she glanced at Gordon and their eyes locked in a long stare.
The Poet (1995) Page 21