“I thought it an act of fate—the complete turning of the wheel, if you will—when I saw Justice Califano kissing a young woman in the middle of the day in a small park, the two of them standing in the shade of an oak tree. There was no one else around. Except for me. She was laughing, kissing that old man’s mouth, her hands pressed against him, between them. This man was not just any corrupt judge like my stepfather—he was a Justice of the Supreme Court!
“I watched them, and felt my rage build until I wanted to kill both of them right there in the park, but I knew that would be foolish and dangerous for me, and because I must be sure. And so I followed them to a condominium. I found out the young woman he was taking advantage of was one of his law clerks. I saw soon enough that he had obviously turned this young woman into a whore, just like my mother. I loved killing her, loved her futile struggles, knowing you were hearing it all. And I saw my mother’s face when the life went out of her. Killing her was almost as gratifying as choking the life out of that corrupt justice. He disgusted me. He was a filthy, common little man, as bad as any of the garbage I killed in Europe. I savored the instant when Califano realized he was dying, realized he was paying the ultimate price. It was my destiny to end his life, or die trying.
“You want a bit more truth, Agent Savich? It surprised me that I actually succeeded, both at the Supreme Court and at Quantico. You really did a very poor job of damage control, don’t you think?”
Savich said, “And so you killed three people because two of them were having an affair?”
“You know as well as I do that evil is always banal and common, if you look at it closely, and it must find other evil, and feed. And so I will go down in history as the man who killed a Justice of the Supreme Court and two of his law clerks—those young acolytes who supped and slept with him, and drank in his words, and knew what he was, and reveled in it.”
Savich said, “You garroted Danny O’Malley and tried to kill Elaine LaFleurette because you believed they sanctioned Califano’s affair with Eliza Vickers?”
“They all knew what he was doing, and they did nothing. Just as no one did anything when my mother slept with that judge. They enjoyed his power, lusted after such power for themselves. They deserved to die.”
He was breathing hard, the gun jerking slightly in his hand. He was near the edge. Savich said quickly, his voice low and steady, “Why haven’t you told the world why you killed these three people? Don’t you want everyone to know why you made an example of Justice Califano?”
For the barest moment, Günter simply stared at him. Then he shrugged, and his voice was as empty as the still air itself. “I destroyed him. That is all I need. Whatever the world thinks, it doesn’t concern me.”
Savich said, “What makes you think I won’t tell the world?”
Günter smiled. “Because you’ll be dead, as dead as I will be. Three corpses know the truth. It is enough.”
Sherlock said, “But you weren’t alone in this, were you? Who was the woman with you the night you fired into our house?”
Günter laughed, but his gun never wavered from her chest. “Who cares anyway? That woman in my car was just a drunk I picked up at a bar. She was good camouflage, to help me get through roadblocks.”
“But you know it stops here, Günter,” Sherlock said. “It stops now.”
Günter laughed. “It doesn’t stop until I say it does. I’ve spent enough time with you. I’m going to die, but you’re going to hell with me.”
Ben shouted from behind Günter, “Don’t you even think of shooting or I’ll blow your head off!”
Günter whirled, fired, and kicked out all in the space of a moment. The bullet slammed into the wall not two inches from Ben’s head as Günter’s left foot struck his arm, numbing it instantly, and sending the gun crashing to the floor, skidding toward the front door.
Ben dived at Günter, slamming him onto his back to the hall floor, but Günter’s locked fisted hands smashed hard into Ben’s throat, just as his legs kicked up against his back, throwing him off. Ben fell against the areca palm, gagging, trying to get his breath. Günter fired into the living room, sending Savich and Sherlock diving behind the sofa. Then he fired toward Ben as he rolled away, shattering a beautiful Chinese vase, and sending the palm tree crashing to the entrance hall floor. It was the palm tree that saved Ben’s life. The next bullet shot through fronds, striking so close he could smell the singed material from his jacket sleeve. Günter burst through the front door, slamming it behind him, and leaped down the front steps.