'What's happening, gentlemen?' she asked the agents crowded into the van. 'Did I miss any fun? Is the Masterprick up yet?'
We were told that Francis was up, and that he hadn't called Kathleen McGuigan yet. I had an idea and made a suggestion. Betsey liked it a lot. We called Kyle Craig and got him at home. Kyle liked the idea too.
Agents in Arlington, Virginia, arrested Nurse McGuigan at a little past ten that morning. She was questioned, and denied knowing anything about a relationship between Dr. Bernard Francis and Frederic Szabo. She also denied any involvement in the scheme herself. She said that the allegations against her were ridiculous. She hadn't called Francis the night before and we were welcome to check her phone records.
Agents, meanwhile, were searching McGuigan's house and yard. Around noon, they found one of the diamonds from the Metro-Hartford job. McGuigan panicked and she changed her story. She told the FBI what she knew about Dr. Francis, Frederic Szabo, and the robbery-murders.
'Yes, yes, yes, yes, 'Betsey Cavalierre said and jumped around the back of the surveillance van when she heard the news. She bumped her head on the van roof. 'That hurts. I don't care. We've got him! Dr. Francis is going down.'
At a little past two that afternoon, she and I walked across the manicured front lawn and up the brick stairway into Francis's building. My heart was thudding in my chest. This was it. It had to be. We took the elevator up to the fifth floor the penthouse, the Mastermind's lair.
'We've earned the right to do this,' I told her.
'I can't wait to see his face,' Betsey said as she rang the bell. 'Cold-blooded piece of shit. Ding-dong, guess who's at the front door? This is for Walsh and Doud.'
'And the little Buccieri boy all the others he had killed.'
Dr. Francis answered the door. He was tan, dressed in Florida Gators sweatpants, a Miami Dolphins T-shirt, no socks or shoes. He didn't look like a cold-blooded and heartless monster. So often, they don't.
Betsey identified who we were. She then told Dr. Francis we were part of the team investigating the Metro Hartford kidnapping and several bank robberies back East.
Francis seemed momentarily confused. 'I don't think I understand. Why are you here? I haven't been in Washington, well, in nearly a year. I don't see how I can help you with any robberies up north. Are you sure you have the right address?'
I spoke up. 'May we come in, Dr. Francis? This is the right address. Trust me on that. We want to talk to you about a former patient of yours named Frederic Szabo.'
Francis managed to look even more confused. He was playing his part well and I guess I wasn't surprised.
'Frederic Szabo? You're kidding me, right?'
'We kid you not,' Betsey said emphatically.
Francis became petulant. His face and neck flushed. 'I'll be in my office at the hospital in West Falm tomorrow. The hospital is on Blue Heron. We can talk about my former patients there. Frederic Szabo? Jesus! That was almost a year ago. What has he done? Is this about his crank letters to the Fortune 500? You people are incredible. Please leave my home now.'
Dr. Francis tried to slam the door in my face. I stopped it with the heel of my hand. My heart continued to beat hard. This was so good -we had him.
'This can't wait until Monday, Doctor,” I told him,' It can't wait at all.'
He sighed, but continued to look incredibly pissed off. 'Oh, all right, I was just making myself coffee. Come in, if you must.'
'We must,' I told the Mastermind.
Chapter One Hundred and Nineteen
'Why the hell are you here?' Francis asked again as we followed him through an all-glass loggia that faced down on to the rolling surf of the Atlantic several floors below. The view was spectacular, worth at least a couple of murders. The afternoon sun created countless stars and diamonds which danced on the water's surface. Life was so very good for Dr. Bernard Francis.
'Frederic Szabo figured it all out for you, didn't he?' I said, just to break the ice. 'He had an elaborate fantasy for revenge against the banks. He had all the know-how, the obsession, the contacts. Isn't that how it happened?'
'What the hell are you talking about?' Francis looked at Betsey and me as if we were as deranged as some of his mental patients.
I ignored the look and the condescension in his voice. 'You heard about his plans in your therapy sessions with Szabo. You were impressed by the detail, the precision. He'd thought through everything. You also learned he hadn't been a drifter all those years since the war. You found out he'd worked for First Union Bank. Surprise, surprise. He'd been a security executive. He really did know about banks and how to rob them. He was crazy, but not in the way you had thought.'
Francis flicked on a coffeemaker on the kitchen counter. 'I won't even dignify this horse shit with a response. I'd offer you both coffee, but I'm angry. I'm really pissed off. Please finish with your nonsense, then you can both leave.'
'I don't want coffee,' I said. 'I want you, Francis. You killed all those people, without any remorse. You murdered Walsh and Doud. You're the madman, the Mastermind. Not Frederic Szabo.'
'It's you who is crazy. You're both crazy,' Dr. Francis said. 'I'm a respected physician, a decorated army officer.' _
Then he smiled almost as if he couldn't help it and the look on Francis's face said it all: I can do anything I
