the barrel against your coat, and he detected it. Certain self-defense courses teach that in close-quarters situations, you move right up to the shooter, then start a quick shifting of the feet and midsection, intended to throw off a shooter’s aim.”
“You think I missed him?”
“I do.” She appeared disappointed as I added, “Now, think about the way he aborted the mission, then rushed you and knocked you over. Or afterward how he dodged around like a broken Ping-Pong ball, moving unpredictably from side to side. That’s another technique taught in certain specialty courses.”
She thought about all that, then asked, “So you think he’s former military?”
“Maybe. They’re not street skills. And it was reflexive-no confusion, no hesitation, he just responded, fluidly and automatically. You understand what I’m saying? Eye-to-synapse-to-muscle coordination like his is extraordinarily rare. He’s a natural. Also, he trains constantly to have that edge.”
Janet considered all this, then said, “Sean, he’s not a machine. He’s human, and therefore fallible. He fell for our trap.”
“That won’t happen again.”
She considered this, then asked, “He is coming again, though?”
“Guys only get that good if they invest a lot of ego into their work. They don’t regard failures as failures, just notices to do better next time.”
She cracked a faint smile, confirming my earlier suspicion. She definitely wanted to go another round with this guy. Also it confirmed she was a selective listener-we should have both been on the next flight to Mongolia.
But I knew she wasn’t going to be talked out of it, and I said, “So, what do you conclude?”
“He’s hired help. But was he hired by somebody in your firm?”
“Somebody in the firm is connected.”
“Somebody Lisa worked with obviously.”
“Yes. And now we know it has to be somebody I work with also.”
I then spent a few minutes updating Janet on everything I had learned about Morris Networks and Grand Vistas. I was careful to couch it just right; these are the things I know, these are the things I only suspect, and these are the harebrained meanderings of a paranoid mind. Unfortunately, the latter outweighed the former, but in our business circumstantial cases are often the best you can get.
When I finished, she said, “It makes sense. Money and scandal-those are the motives.”
“Maybe.”
“Do you have another idea?”
“Well, I’ll share a random theory. Morris Networks has a clutch of Defense contracts, and it’s about to win a contract with DARPA, the organization that handles most of our most secretive projects.”
“Go on.”
“Morris Networks can read all its customers’ e-mails and listen in to their traffic.”
“Really?”
“So, here’s this big company that hocked its soul to a secretive foreign conglomerate. And through its networks runs some of the most sensitive secrets in this country. War plans, top-secret technologies, troop movements, you name it. What if this foreign conglomerate is a front? What if it actually belongs to a foreign intelligence agency?”
“And is eavesdropping on sensitive information?” She considered that a moment, then said, “Is that possible?”
“During the cold war, we found out the Soviets had underwater cables running through some of its military harbors. We learned those cables were used by the Soviet military to carry some of their most sensitive information. We sent in subs to tap those cables. For years, we moved subs in and out of the harbors, right under their noses, tapping into the traffic. It was a gold mine.”
“And we got away with this?”
“Right to the end. What I’m suggesting is the possibility that Grand Vistas might be a front operation. Maybe they have some kind of deal with Morris Networks-money for the Defense Department’s mail.”
“Sean, this is big.”
“I know.”
“If those are the stakes, the murders make even more sense.”
“Right. But it is only a theory, not a fact.”
She then said, “I’d better call George and inform him.”
“Not yet.”
“I sense you and he have… issues. But don’t underestimate him.”
When I failed to respond, she insisted, “He knows his job.”
“The guy who sent Bob knows his job?”
“I… look, George has his hands full right now. I’ve seen him in action. Believe me, he’s very good.”
“I’m not debating his competence. But what will he do about it?”
She thought about this and swiftly drew the right conclusion. Our earlier problem hadn’t disappeared-we had no evidence linking the firm to the killer. The instant Meany and his Boy Scouts started flashing their Fed badges, the disaster would play out-the firm would clam up, the culprits would be spooked, hard drives would start crashing, and reams of paper would start disappearing into shredders.
I said, “Nor can I divulge what I know about Grand Vistas without violating attorney-client privilege, right? It would be both unethical and legally inadmissible, right?”
“Okay, you make a good point.”
I let her think about that a moment, then I said, “However, the law permits me to inform my attorney about these matters. So you’re my attorney.”
“You can’t afford me.” She peered at me curiously. “You’re serious?” I nodded and she asked, “Why do you need an attorney?”
“To threaten Culper, Hutch, and Westin with a lawsuit.”
“A lawsuit?”
“To use the law to fight the law.”
“I don’t want to throw a wrench in the works, but I think the legal code insists that you have grounds.”
I glanced at my watch. “I have grounds. We’ll discuss it on our way back to D. C.”
“What am I getting into?”
“I’ve got a disciplinary hearing tonight at the firm. You’ll represent me. So go inside and tell Bob to pack his bags.”
Before Janet slipped through the back door, I said, “By the way, could I borrow your cell phone to call my office?”
“Sure.”
I waited until she was inside before I called Northern Virginia information and got the number for the Rosslyn office of the Associated Press, which I then dialed. I asked the switch to put me through to Jacob Stynowitz, whose byline I had noticed on several stories regarding the serial killer. Actually, his stories were really good.
When he picked up, I said, “Mr. Stynowitz, I’m Major Drummond, a JAG officer. I’ve been following your stories about the L. A. Killer. Hey-they’re excellent.”
“Thanks. I try my best.”
“It shows. Gripping stuff.” I didn’t want to lay it on too thick, so I said, “You’ve heard about the two cop killings this morning in Boston?”
“Yeah, sure. It’s on CNN right now.”
“I was there.”
“You were there?”
“A few feet away. Saw the whole thing. The guy trying to kill the girl on the running path… the cops rushing around.”
“Well, that’s interesting. Is that the reason for this call?”
“Yeah. See, I thought… if you’re doing a story on this Boston thing… I could maybe give you a few colorful quotes. I know how these things work, the FBI controlling what’s put out, and they only tell you what they want you to know…”
