“ To hell with regular… back-shelve the bastards. Send some of your casework over to Missing Persons and the DMV, I don't care.”
One of the other detectives wailed, “That's easier said than done. Do we have topflight clearance on this, Captain Rychman?”
“ It comes from the top.”
“ Why the sudden change in policy?” asked another.
Rychman's face turned stony; he was obviously not used to being questioned.
“ We are not here to question policy, people. We are here to carry out policy, understood?”
The quasi-military organization was having its military straps pulled tight, he was saying.
Rychman took the measure of his newly formed task force again. “People, the press and others are saying we're sitting with our fingers up our asses on this case. They're drawing little cartoons of the mayor and the C.P., and if it keeps up, you and me. Some people are comparing this to the Yorkshire Ripper case in England, 1980. And that's not good. Police had questioned the killer nine times without realizing who they had. Not even Scotland Yard could catch this guy because none of the police agencies were cooperating with the others. And that's what the press is saying about us, that we can't play well together in the New York City sandbox, and maybe that's so, and maybe there'll always be a certain amount of that; maybe it's inevitable, given the fact we're all cops and cops are very territorial. But I tell you what: this killer we have on our hands, he's not so territorial. In fact, he doesn't know Queens from Bronx from Manhattan, as we've seen. He's grazing.”
“ So we're supposed to be a super-squad?” asked Louis Emmons, a detective from Queens.
“ That's right. We're it, so if you've got family, if you've got girlfriends or boyfriends, you'll have to put them at arm's length.”
The men began to complain and moan.
Rychman held on to his calm. Watching him from where she sat, Dr. Jessica Coran thought him handsome in a rugged way. He was slim for so large a man and those eyes commanded such attention and respect.
“ Now, we have no lack of red tape, computers or not,” said Rychman. “And we've got no lack of quacks, crackpots and idiots giving information, and enough confessions to fill St. Pat's, but what we don't seem to have is a central clearinghouse on this. The FBI has been called in and they're sending a crack man to help us coordinate efforts. I'd expected him to be here by now, but-any of you guys see anyone wearing a three-piece suit over steel- plated B.V.D. s?”
The remark drew laughter from every cop in the place, except the pretty auburn-haired lady in front. Most city cops refused to wear vests and most feds refused not to. She kept still, biding her time.
“ Anyway, the feds'11 be helping us with a profile of the killer and with forensic backup any way they can, now that the mayor's finally given us the go-ahead.”
“ Good move,” said Jessica Coran, drawing a few stares. “And first thing you might wish to do-”
“ And what's that?” asked Rychman a bit disdainfully.
“ Put a gag order on every police agency and officer; nothing is released to the press except what goes out from here.”
“ Good thinking,” said O’Toole, with others agreeing.
Rychman nodded. “I was getting to that. Thank you for saving us time. Now, on to the next problem. Time to swallow our pride, and time to work together at all levels. That's what this team is all about. No showboating, no hot dogs or super-sleuths, just hard-hitting, teeth-grinding police investigation. All of you've been handpicked by your captains because you're dogged, determined, hardworking cops… like me.”
“ Right on!”
“ We're being asked to do the miraculous, to find a needle in a haystack… a rather large haystack of over eight million people, to trace this mystery down to one man. We're to set up a Ripper-type special squad to combat the sick creep the press is calling the Claw. So far the actual weapon the bastard uses across his victims' bodies hasn't been determined. Fo-rensics hasn't an answer. So we're working blind as to weapon, and as far as motive, we haven't a clue. Maybe there is none… maybe it's just plain old-fashioned evil, the same that's been spawning these monsters since time began.”
Rychman allowed the notion to settle in.
“ While we wait for that FBI guy to get here,” he continued, “I want each captain present to tell us in capsule form what his division has, and then I want assurances that this information will get to this computer.” He stopped to point to the machine. “This is the incident room and the only incident room on this case, gentlemen. Does everyone understand this?”
Everyone nodded and the various captains got up one at a time, each offering a few crumbs. The killer was very adept at leaving nothing whatever of himself behind. He appeared to be as swift and relentless as a gale-force wind.
Jessica could not fathom such callous disregard for life. One of the captains said, “You've got to remember the kind of area we're talking here. Nobody wants to get involved. They see a man hit a woman with a hammer, they think it's between the man and his wife, and that's that.”
“ The hammer blow is just the beginning,” said Rychman, “to render the victim defenseless. The actual murder occurs later. This guy drags his victim to a secluded area, usually a basement he has broken into, or below some stairwell, behind some cans, whatever, and there he takes out this incredible rage on the body.”
“ This guy is really sick… sicker than… than…” Louis Emmons began.
“… sicker than O’Toole at last year's annual?”
This brought some mixed laughter.
“ Sicker than that vampire creep the FBI stopped in Chicago last year,” finished the good-looking female detective.
Jessica felt it was time to come forward when Rychman regained the attention of the assembled men and women. “I'm Agent Coran, Dr. Jessica Coran, of the FBI crime lab,” she said.
Rychman's deep-set dark eyes narrowed, showing his displeasure at her having sat through the meeting to this point without identifying herself. She could also see that he was mentally flipping back through the files of his memory for any and all remarks he had made regarding the feds.
“ Bad assumption that the fed would be a man,” she replied. “Who did you think I was, the cleaning lady?”
“ Christ, I don't know everybody in the entire department. I thought… Well, never mind what I thought. Would you like ahh… to add to anything that has been said here?”
She turned to the assembled detectives, holding onto her cane. “We recently put away Gerald Ray Sims, and you may have read that he killed himself in his prison cell. I… I had seen him in the prison only days before. Sims and your Claw have much in common.” Her eyes scanned the room of silenced detectives.
“ His doctor-and I concur-believes that his other self, the murderous side of his personality, talked him into killing himself.”
“ We can only pray the Claw does the same,” said O’Toole.
“ Not likely so long as he's at large.”
She allowed this to sink in for a few moments before she calmly said, “My team was also responsible for the capture of Matthew Matisak.”
This brought about a great deal of murmuring as many in the room now realized exactly who Dr. Jessica Coran was. They had all read about the spectacular break in the vampire case and how she had been maimed in the process of catching Matisak.
“ So you can rest assured that my team and I are not exactly amateurs at this. At any rate, I'm glad to have been selected to help you here. We have the best forensics lab on the planet. If there's an iota of information that has been overlooked, our lab will find it. In the meantime, I have to concur with everything-almost everything-that Captain Rychman has had to say to you. It's vital that all areas of the city work in close harmony against this… creature.”
Five
