had to do.
Once again Frankie Kagan was along to provide protection against any unexpected intruders. Tommy would have preferred that Frankie help in the actual operation, since it involved some heavy work, but it also required a technical sophistication and expertise that Frankie didn’t possess. Frankie’s expertise was better suited to stabbing judges to death in their garages.
Explosives, by definition, are designed to destroy, to obliterate. As such, they often don’t have to be placed with great precision; if the bomb is big enough, the job will get done.
Sometimes, of course, the placement of explosives becomes an art. For instance, in the implosion of an aging building or sports stadium, they must be placed strategically, so that not only will the target come down, but it will come down in a specified and predictable manner.
Tommy had a great deal of military experience with all kinds of munitions, but this assignment was particularly challenging. It had to be done in darkness, in a period of a few days, but that was not what made it difficult.
Man-made structures are finite; like baseball managers who are hired to be fired, structures are built to eventually come down. Explosives can eventually hasten the process, but the end result is inevitable.
This was different. Nature was the target, at least the primary one. And the goal was to inflict damage that would take years, if not decades, to overcome.
He finished the job and set the timers for Saturday at 8 PM. For Tommy Rhodes that moment would be his crowning achievement, albeit a secret one.
But he would certainly have earned his money.
My dislike for Richard Carlton was pretty much instantaneous.
He deigned to see me in his suite in the Pierre Hotel on 61st Street, between 5th Avenue and Madison. I was greeted at the door by a guy who identified himself only as William, and who seemed to be an assistant of some sort. Or, more likely, based on the way William fit into his jacket, a bodyguard.
He led me into a private dining room, said, “He’ll be right out,” and left the room. Carlton came in a few minutes later.
In a bathrobe.
“You didn’t have to get dressed up,” I said.
He chuckled an annoying chuckle, which made me sorry I hadn’t been the one to blow up his guesthouse. Then, “What can I do for you, Lieutenant?”
I had decided to be aggressive about this interview. Since there was a very good chance that I was going to claim to Gallagher that the real killer was somewhere on the Carlton side of the court battle, I needed to act as if that’s what I believed.
I had to keep asking myself how I would proceed if this were a normal investigation, and in this case, if I suspected Carlton, I would try to shake him. He was obviously complacent and feeling in control, so I would scare him as best I could.
“I am conducting an investigation into the murder of Judge Daniel Brennan.”
He looked surprised. “I thought that crime was solved rather violently. Wasn’t a young man shot to death?”
“If the crime were solved I wouldn’t be here,” I said.
“Then why are you here?”
“We have strong reason to believe that the murder of Judge Brennan is directly connected to the fracking case before the Court of Appeals.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means that the Judge was considered a solid vote on behalf of the town of Brayton.” I was vastly overstating it; Julie had solicited opinions that confirmed Holland’s view that Brennan was more likely to side with the town than Judge Dembeck. But it was far from a slam dunk.
“So?”
I decided not to answer that directly, at least not right then. “You share ownership of the land in question with an offshore company, Tarrant Industries.”
Carlton was clearly annoyed with my impertinence. “My company shares ownership, not me personally.”
“You own eighty percent of your company.”
“Is that a question?” He made a motion to look at his watch, as if he was late. It would have been more effective had he been wearing a watch.
“Tarrant Industries has set up a structure which is difficult to penetrate. Can you tell me the names of the principals of that company?”
“No,” he said.
“You can’t, or you won’t?”
“I can’t, but I wouldn’t if I could.”
“Are you denying that you own Tarrant as well?”
“I do not own Tarrant; that much I can tell you,” he said.
“Mr. Carlton, are you familiar with the concept of motive?”
He was now openly hostile. “What are you saying?”
“Your chances of making hundreds of million of dollars have increased dramatically now that Judge Brennan will not be on that court.”
He stood up. “You clearly have no idea who you are talking to. This interview is over. Direct any further communication to my attorney.”
With that he strode out of the room, and William entered moments later. “If you’ll follow me, Lieutenant…”
“Just a heads-up, William. Carlton seems a little pissy today.”
“Three areas in New Jersey and one in Long Island experienced outages,” Julie said.
“But the Long Island one lasted for twenty minutes, so it doesn’t seem to fit what Bryan said. All the documents from the satellite company are in the folder, and I included a map showing where they are. The supervisor for that area was very helpful.”
Julie and I were having a quick dinner at a coffee shop near her office. Everything seemed to be quick these days, including the days themselves. Bryan was running out of time, so every second seemed precious.
“Terrific,” I said.
“What does it do for us?” she asked, picking at her French fries. Julie is the healthiest eater I know; she throws down broccoli and brussel sprouts like I do M amp;M’s. But this time she ordered a burger and fries, which probably said something about her mental state.
“At this point not enough. But if we get more information, we can cross-check it against this.”
She asked that I bring her up to date on the status of the investigations, which I did, starting with my concerns about Steven Gallagher’s ability to get to and from the crime scene.
“You really think he could have been framed?” she asked, her tone clearly displaying her skepticism.
“I think there’s a lot that a defense attorney could have used, if I had let it get to that.”
“He could have hitched a ride with a friend. He could have stolen a car and then dumped it.”
“There is no evidence that this kid ever harmed a fly in his entire life. He had probably been before a half- dozen judges on drug offenses in the past. All of a sudden he tracks down this one and becomes Jack the Goddamn Ripper?”
She seemed exasperated. “Come on, Luke, you’ve never arrested a first-time murderer? People snap, and drugs make them even more unstable.”
