Survival Of The Fittest

Milo shook his head. “License-plate switches, mail drop, and a phony language teacher to hide your trail? What's Irina, a full-fledged secret agent or just some free-lance? And who the hell is P. L. Almoni?”

Carmeli smiled and hid it behind his smoking hand.

“My mistake,” said Sharavi. “I didn't appreciate Dr. Delaware's powers of observation.”

“Underestimating Dr. Delaware is no way to win at blackjack,” said Milo. “He's a detail guy, attuned to all the nuances.”

“Obviously,” said Sharavi. “He was the one who urged pursuing the DVLL angle.”

“Our first real break,” said Carmeli, waving his cigarette. “Finally. We've plugged it into all our databases. Here, back in Israel, Asia, Europe. We have resources you don't. If we pool- this is no time to let egos get in-”

“Learn anything from your databases?” Milo asked him.

“Not yet, but the point is, the wider the net-”

“Sometimes the wider the net, the bigger the tangles, Mr. Carmeli.” He turned to Sharavi. “So tell me, Superintendent, is this conversation being taped, too?”

Sharavi's eyebrows arched higher. He glanced at Carmeli.

Carmeli said, “No, we've disconnected the recorders in the suite. However, you were recorded the first time we met.”

Milo allowed himself a tiny smile. Gut instincts confirmed.

“From now on,” Carmeli continued, “you have my word that no further surveillance will be conducted without your-”

“Assuming there is a “from now on,' ” said Milo.

“Are you that egotistical?” said Carmeli. He turned to me. “When I address Milo, I'm including you, Doctor. In light of the DVLL angle and two other related murders, we're clearly faced with a psychopathologic killer, so psychological input is called for. I'm not trying to get between you and Milo, but whatever he decides, the Israeli consulate is willing to reimburse you for your time at a very generous rate. The consulate is also willing to extend itself to you considerably. Because we know the deck is stacked against success and anything we can do to-”

“Anything?” said Milo. “You're saying the investigation gets the full clout of your office?”

“One hundred percent. It always has.”

“Full clout is yours to grant? Being only a social director? License to cater?”

Carmeli was thrown off. “Whatever is in my power I'll-”

Carmeli's eyes shifted over to Sharavi. The dark man said nothing.

“I'm an arranger,” Carmeli said. “I arrange all sorts of things.”

25

Milo and Carmeli remained eye to eye, each holding on to the stare as if it were precious.

Carmeli moved away first. “I've said what I have to say.” He walked quickly back to his office and closed the door.

Milo said, “How do we get out of here?” to Sharavi.

Sharavi reached behind the water cooler and something clicked. As Milo started for the door, Sharavi said, “In line with my promise to tell you everything, here's something important: Someone wrote DVLL in ballpoint pen in Raymond Ortiz's right shoe. Small letters, but discernible under the blood.”

Milo's hands clenched again and a dragon grin stretched his mouth unnaturally. “You have them.”

“No, they're in the Newton Division evidence room. Some of the blood has flaked away over time and it appears to have been applied thinly- probably with a brush, there seem to be strokes. But once you know what to look for, the letters are clear.”

“A brush,” said Milo.

“Painting with a child's blood,” said Sharavi, looking at me. “Maybe he sees himself as an artist.”

Milo cursed silently.

“One thing that interests me,” said Sharavi, “is the fact that the writing was done first and then the blood was added. So even back then, when, as Dr. Delaware has pointed out, he was still impulsive, those letters- leaving a message- meant something to him and he planned carefully. He's always had a definite agenda.”

“What else interests you?” said Milo.

“Just the elements that you're aware of. The variability in methods and body positioning, the geographic scatter, two girls, one boy. The lack of pattern to throw us off, but despite that, a pattern, as Dr. Delaware has suggested. Retardation's obviously an issue, so maybe DVLL has something to do with that, or handicaps in general- D for defective. Defective devils, something like that.”

He took out his bad hand and looked at it. “Until the match between Irit and the Shaver girl came up, I was skeptical about Dr. Delaware's theory of linkage. Even now, there's a disconnected feeling to these killings.”

“Disconnected, how?” I said.

“I don't know.” The smooth face tightened and lines showed around the eyes. “Not that my opinion means much. I have only dealt with one serial killer. In Israel that makes me an expert. Here…” He shrugged.

“How'd you get the shoe?” said Milo.

“I didn't get it, I got to it. Please don't ask more.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can't tell you.”

“Open communication, huh?”

“From now on. The shoes are in the past. With three killings on your hands, maybe more, why bother?”

“More?”

“At this level of subtlety,” said Sharavi, “there could be DVLL messages never detected. Don't you think?”

Milo didn't answer.

“I understand your not trusting me,” said the dark man. “In your position I'd feel the same way-”

“Cool it with the empathy, Superintendent. That's Dr. Delaware's territory.”

Sharavi sighed. “All right. Would you like me to remove the bugs tonight or tomorrow?”

“Where are they?”

“All in Dr. Delaware's home.”

“Where else?”

“Just there.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“No reason,” said Sharavi, “except I have no interest in lying to you. Check for yourself. I'll provide debugging equipment.”

Milo waved him off. “How many bugs are there in Dr. Delaware's home?”

“Four. In the phone receiver, under the living room couch, under the dining table, and the kitchen table.”

“That's it?”

“Hook me up to a polygraph if it'll make you feel better.”

“Polygraphs can be fooled.”

“Sure,” said Sharavi, “by psychopaths with abnormally low levels of arousal. I'm not a psychopath. I sweat.”

“Do you?”

“All the time. Now, shall I disconnect the bugs or do you want to do it yourself? Nothing complicated. Four little black discs that pop right off.”

“Where's the feed?”