the cleanup.
So far as he knew, no one other than that suspicious bitch.
Coran, had thought the death of Leon's dentist anything but a freak accident, the sort that happened all too often in high rises lately. Rychman didn't need the dentist to convict Helfer; all he needed were the dental records and the testimony of another qualified dental expert, in fact, one in forensics, Dr. Donald Altman, who worked under Archer now as his paleontologist and dental forensics man. Altman had done a superb job on the witness stand, so much so that Archer had turned over all the evidence to him and had sent him and serologist Elliot Andersen back to court to oversee the pre-sentation of the case against Leon Helfer. Both Altman and Andersen were pleased with the confidence Archer had placed in them, and Archer hadn't had to face Helfer, fearing the little weasel would recognize either his face or his voice and cry out in open court that he was the Claw.
Of course it would only make Leon look even more crazy than he already did, and it would be interpreted as ludicrous, but Archer had already taken enough chances and there was no point in tempting fate. Nor did he want to fuel Coran and Rychman's combined distrust of him any more than he already had.
“ They've got nothing on you… nothing,” he told himself. “Get your rest. Forget about that bitch. She can't prove a thing… not a single thing.”
But the rest of the night, his sleep remained disturbed by the image of the woman and the incessant tapping of her cane. Matisak had only maimed her. If he had one chance at her, he would do far more than maim her.
“ Let… it… go…”
But how sweet her flesh must taste, he thought. How lovely to roll her eyes around in his mouth…
Jessica's apartment never looked so good. She loved being surrounded with her familiar trappings, the photos on the walls, many blow-ups of her underwater shots taken when she had gone on various diving excursions in Jamaica, the Keys, Martinique and elsewhere. She also had photos of her parents, herself as a child and her best friends and closest working associates adorning another wall.
The beige to white furnishings with glass tops and glass cases throughout the apartment had also collected knick-knacks from her many travels and hunting and diving trips, from first-prize awards for the biggest or the most game in a season to miniature deer, bear and fowl, many of which were hand-carved by American and Canadian Indians.
Here, more than anywhere on earth, she felt secure and comforted, and she received a transfusion of sorts, a transfusion of identity and soul that was often much needed. She already missed Alan Rychman, however, and it would be some time, as she had told her girlfriend, Amanda Cairn, over the phone, before Alan could break away to take her on that diving trip they had planned before she had left New York City.
When she had arrived at the airport at Quantico there was faithful J.T. to take full charge of the Emmons body, seeing to its final transportation to the morgue. And as ever, J.T. was full of questions, starting with, “I don't get it, Jess. Why're we examining a body the New York people have already des-ignated as the work of this nut case Helfer? You want to fill me in?”
“ Just treat Emmons as a murder victim, J.T., and run every test we have on her. I mean every damned test, and no shortcuts.”
“ All right, but you'd better know up front-”
“ What?”
“ O'Rourke doesn't like it.”
“ What doesn't she like?”
“ Carting the body here like this, pulling it from this guy Archer's jurisdiction. Says… thinks it's not good form, that sort of thing. Says we've got to respect and cooperate with the local officials for times when we really need them, all that crap.”
She could not hide her exasperation with O'Rourke. “I suppose she wants to see me on the double?”
“ You must be psychic.”
She frowned. “First she gives Matisak carte blanche with the information on my case, has that filthy creep telling me long-distance how to investigate it, and now she's questioning decisions of mine of a forensics nature? You know what she wants, don't you, J.T.?”
“ If I didn't know better, I'd say she wants your ass in a can, Doctor.”
“ Great being home, J.T., and it's great to talk to someone who's going to be straight with me.”
“ It's great having you home, Jess.”
Their relationship had grown over the years of their association and had solidified with the Matisak vampire- stalker case. Her cane was a constant reminder to both her and J.T. of how close she had come to being killed by Matisak, but there was something else she remembered when around J.T., and that was her old confidence in her deft abilities. J. T fanned the flame of her positive self-image. He was a good friend.
“ O'Rourke thinks she'll cut me loose and that she can more easily control you, John,” she told him. “You know that, don't you?”
They stared at one another there on the tarmac, the sound of aircraft near deafening.
“ I'll see to the body now,” he said without another word, and as she watched him go toward the open cargo bay and the box within, she wondered if J.T. had changed. It shouldn't come as any surprise, not with O'Rourke's keen manipulations. O'Rourke was very happy playing queen to Chief Bill Leamy's king on the FBI chessboard. She'd been made chief of the psychological profiling unit which had been built from the ground floor by Otto Boutine, and to which Jessica and J.T. belonged.
She went straight from the airport to O'Rourke's office. O'Rourke was a strong woman, firm and sure of herself, always dressed to kill, and she had worked her way up through the ranks to get where she was, but her affair with Bill Leamy hadn't hurt, either. Otto had had great respect for O'Rourke's ability at crime detection and, in particular, psychological profiling-her avenue up the rungs of the FBI ladder.
Their meeting was brief and predictable. O'Rourke was sorely upset. She'd gotten a call from the chief medical examiner of New York City, a Dr. Archer, who felt his entire staff had been maligned by Agent Coran, and that the unnecessary removal of Louise Emmons' body was the final straw. “Archer feels you're out to ruin his reputation in the forensics community, that you bear him some personal animosity, something to do with Dr. Darius' being made some kind of god in your eyes to which no one could possibly measure up; said the entire time you two worked together, you were second-guessing his every finding.”
“ Somebody had to.”
“ Is that all you've got to say?”
“ Why're you so concerned about Archer's feelings?”
“ It's quite simple, Dr. Coran. We will need New York someday in the future, and cooperation between our agencies has to be optimal. You, of all people, should know that.”
Jessica realized that the conversation was being taped, that everything she said was on the record and that her boss was now amassing her own evidence to prove Jessica incompetent and unable to continue in her present position, that her psychological problems were overtaking her.
Something must have shown in her eyes, because O'Rourke, staring coldly at her, said, “You know, Jessica, we're all concerned about you. The FBI family wants only what's best for you, and I, personally, care only to see that we do what's best for you.”
“ Yes, I realized that when you sent me to Philadelphia that first time, to see Matisak… to see the bastard alive and well fed and biding his time. Yes, Theresa… Chief… I've always known that you took my… my problems… as seriously as I.”
“ Are you still seeing Dr. Lemonte?”
“ No… not professionally, but thank you for asking,” she lied.
“ Then you are feeling… emotionally stronger? Good.”
“ I'm so glad that you can see that.”
“ And your… physical impairment? How is that doing?”
She held up the cane. “It's not going to go away, if that's what you mean, but it hasn't kept me from doing my job.”
“ Of course not.”
“ And another thing, Theresa.” Her voice like acid, Jessica was emphasizing her words with a tongue that flicked across her upper lip and disappeared. “You won't win against me; you won't take my job here. I'm too good at what I do.”
