“I’m going to head out to the Hoover Building. By the way, can you do any of your work remotely if you have access to a computer?”
“Yeah, sure. I spend most of my time on the computer.”
When Savich left, he saw Martin standing tall, his shoulders no longer slumped. He heard him say to Dr. Hicks, “I’ve got lots of work to do. You said this Boardroom place has some good food?”
Savich would swear as he walked down the hall of the Jefferson Dormitory that he heard Martin Thornton whistling.
FBI HEADQUARTERS
WASHINGTON, D.C.
EARLY SUNDAY AFTERNOON
SAVICH LOOKED OUT over the thirty-plus agents and cops in the conference room. “Last night, as most of you already know, Günter fired six shots into my living room, his primary target Fleurette. His performance last night shows he’s becoming increasingly less controlled, more desperate, but given what he did in the middle of Georgetown, I certainly can’t say he’s any less daring. So long as he continues, our chances of finding him improve. So far the only physical evidence we have are ballistics from the recovered bullets—probably a plain old thirty-eight. We’ve located Günter’s approximate range and position, but apart from a few broken branches, some partial footprints in the snow, he left nothing behind.
“But we may have a lead. Two Metro policemen found a witness, an older man who was walking his dog two blocks over. They’re not convinced he’s reliable, but let me report what Mr. Avery told them. He said he saw a man running toward a car. He thinks it was a light gray, or maybe white, late-model Toyota. Said the guy was fast, ran easily, was tall and well-built. He was wearing a Burberry coat, black gloves on his hands.
“Now the thing is, the two policemen had major doubts about Mr. Avery’s mental acuity. They thought he might be embellishing, even creating, all these excellent details to impress them. Evidently Mr. Avery also told him that the car fishtailed as it drove away, headed east. He thinks it was a Virginia plate, the first two letters RT or BT. There’s no match for that plate to a late model Toyota, so we’re checking for recently stolen Toyotas and reports of stolen plates with those letters. Mr. Avery did not hear any shots.
“As I said, the police weren’t sure we could believe much of anything he said, that he wandered all over the lot—even asked his dog’s opinion—seemed a little too, well, old and odd is how they put it. Oh yeah, the police officers said when he asked his dog’s opinion, the little sucker actually barked.
“It’s clear we have no unified, specific theory for these latest crimes, the murder of Eliza Vickers and the attempted murder of Elaine LaFleurette last night. In Danny O’Malley’s case, there are strong indications he made contact with the perpetrators. For the two women, the connection to Justice Califano is of course clear, but the killer’s specific motives are not.”
He paused, looking out over the group. “All right, I want every idea, every speculation you’ve come up with on why Eliza Vickers was murdered, and why Fleurette was shot at. Ollie, you’re nearly busting out of your vest, so you lead off.”
Ollie Hamish, Savich’s second-in-command in the Criminal Apprehension Unit, cleared his throat. “Okay,” Ollie said, “let’s start with Eliza Vickers.” He sat forward, his hands clasped in front of him on the conference table. “Ben told us about last Friday when he and Callie were in Justice Califano’s office looking for Fleurette, but only Eliza was there, cleaning up things. He said that when he asked her if there was anything he could do, she hesitated. I can’t get that out of my mind.” He paused a moment, focusing his thoughts. “She knew something. Maybe she didn’t realize how important it was, but you know, that’s not very likely. What was it? Was she involved in Justice Califano’s murder? Did she turn on him because he wasn’t about to leave his wife for her?” Ollie shot an apologetic look at Callie. “Rage can do terrible things to people, we’ve all seen it. Eliza Vickers could have found out who Günter was, maybe she’d dated him or met him some other way and hired him or persuaded him to murder Justice Califano—”
Sherlock shot to her feet. She bent over the table, her hands flat on the piles of paper on front of her. “No, that can’t be right, Ollie. Eliza was solid. Listen to me, it’s true I only met Eliza Vickers twice, then spoke to her briefly at Justice Califano’s funeral, but I felt I knew her in all the important ways. I even admired her. Eliza couldn’t have had Justice Califano killed, she was devoted to him, loved and respected him as both a man and as a Justice. Did she have him killed out of jealousy? No way. She knew there was no future for them. That isn’t it, Ollie. It’s got to be something else.