arrival of the mental health referee, who would examine him.
While we had been at the hospital with Blitek, two state troopers, and Art and George, had been to the top of the elevator. Lots of shell casings. 7.62 mm. The rifle. Some brown cardboard ammo boxes. Nothing else, though. Courtesy Maitland PD, chains and padlocks had been installed on the caged, exterior access ladder, in three layers, where a cop in a car could see them. A potential sniper could still climb to the top, but it was hoped that he'd at least be more obvious. The area was pronounced secure.
Pronouncement be damned, I noticed that almost everybody was suddenly using the back door to the office.
20
We sat Blitek in a chair in the reception area, while we tried to find a room without bystanders where we could interview him. 'Cletus and his attorney are in the interview room,' said Lamar. He indicated Blitek, sitting bedraggled in the corner. 'Shit,' he said, 'he looks like somethin' the cat dragged in.'
He did. At the hospital, they had pretty well undressed him, looking at what turned out to be minor injuries, and prodding and probing to make certain there was no internal damage. Typically for those under emotional duress, and on the downside of a suicide high to boot, he had then replaced his clothing in a rather haphazard manner, not tucking in his long john top, or buttoning his plaid shirt. His fly was unzipped. His boots were untied, with the laces dragging on the floor. He was sitting in a small wooden chair, with his head in his hands, and his elbows on his knees; his disheveled gray and brown hair sticking straight out between his fingers. The only bright element in the picture was the touch of silver provided by the handcuffs.
We decided the best place for him was the kitchen. Available coffee, rest room, and no phones. We kicked everybody else out, including the troopers and Maitland officers who were regaling a small crowd of late arrivers with lurid descriptions of the monster sniper. They looked a bit silly as we brought Blitek in and shooed them out.
We sat him down, and I went out a different door on my way to get note tablets and pens for the interview. As I did, I had to excuse my passage though the interview room containing Cletus Borglan and Attorney Gunston.
Cletus looked kind of bad, and Gunston was being all protective. 'Did you manage to get whoever it was? Is this area secure now?'
'Oh, yeah,' I said. Just passing through. I was on my way back with the tablets before it occurred to me. I excused my way through the interview room again, and hit the kitchen with a plan.
'I think,' I said, 'we'd be better off doing this interview in your office, Lamar.' Way back on the other side of the building.
As he started to protest, I motioned him over by the sink. 'I just came through the interview room,' I said, in a low voice. 'Cletus and his attorney are in there, and they don't know who the shooter was.'
I could almost see the cartoon lightbulb come on over Lamar's head. To arrive at his office, we would have to transit the interview room occupied by Cletus and company.
'Let's take him back to my office,' said Lamar, in a loud, clear voice.
We paraded past Cletus and Gunston. Lamar, Volont, Blitek, and me. Slowly, of course, so that Blitek wouldn't trip on his shoelaces. Blitek's head was down, and in his state, I don't think he even noticed who we were passing by. None of us said a word. Except for Lamar, who simply said, 'Excuse us, please,' as he led the way through.
I glanced at Cletus, who had the now familiar pre-heave glaze in his eyes.
It was much more crowded in Lamar's office, but it had been worth the trip.
Blitek, in a mumbling sort of way, told us some interesting things. Gabriel had, in fact, told him to 'take out' Cletus. Blitek had been assigned what he called a 'co-sniper,' a fellow named Rollings. He never showed. Blitek was just sufficiently frightened of Gabriel that he undertook the 'mission' alone. He thought that might have been a mistake. In retrospect, sort of.
'Well,' said Lamar, kindly, 'you gotta do what you gotta do.'
Blitek had told Gabriel, as it turned out, everything that had been said by Cletus at the interviews. Including the fact that we knew about the phone call from the Cletus Borglan residence to the Cletus Borglan residence, so to speak.
Shit.
He also told us that Gabriel was still planning some sort of major operation for Sunday. Something to do with cash, and banks, but probably not what Cletus had described.
'You mean, 'had been planning,' don't you?' I was fairly certain by then that we had just lost Gabriel again.
It was the only time that a spark of life showed in Blitek's eyes that day. He had almost a religious fervor about him. 'Gabriel says that there's no way you Zionist puppets can interfere. You can't stop him. It's a military operation, and you don't have a chance.' He kind of giggled, like a kid. 'There's going to be no betrayal this time!'
We decided the best way to find out was to talk to Cletus. By now, both Davies and Attorney Gunston were at the jail. Gunston said we could talk to Cletus, but that he was making arrangements for a doctor to attend his client and perhaps give him a sedative.
'No sedative,' said Davies. 'We wouldn't want you to say that we'd talked to him under the influence of drugs, would we.'
I stood on the front porch of the jail with Volont, Davies, Art, and George. It was the best place for a fast private meeting. Nobody else seemed to want to hang around in view of the grain elevator.
'So, how do we proceed?' George kept glancing at the elevator in the distance. 'Well, he's seen Blitek. He's got to be aware that everything he's said has already been given to Gabriel.' Volont looked around. 'I'd say he's just about ripe, if we can protect him.'
'We can't,' said Art. He'd been a deputy in Nation County long enough to know what our resources were. Now that he was a state officer, he knew what they had available. He was right.
'We can,' said Volont.
He was right. They probably could. For me, it was just a question of whether or not we could convince Cletus of that. I had absolutely no problem with giving him up, in exchange for getting Gabriel. We'd intended that all along.
'I'm not authorized to make deals,' said Art.
'I am,' said Davies.
'Not without the permission of the local prosecutor,' said Art. Knowing full well that, as yet, there really wasn't one.
'We'll talk about that one again, after you've passed the Bar.' Davies kept his voice light, but there was no mistaking the fact that Art was being shut down. He turned, and looked at me. 'I think you and I should do the interview, since you've established something of a rapport with Mr. Borglan.'
'Yeah,' I chuckled. 'I make him puke.'
'And that a representative of the FBI should also be present, to make the 'protection' offer.' He smiled, brightly. 'A gesture of good faith…'
Volont, Davies, and I were in the 'interrogation kitchen,' as Davies referred to it, and Lamar was bringing Cletus out of his cell. Attorney Gunston was waiting to talk to Cletus before we did, in the secure room.
'Now, let me see,' said Davies. 'Paper… pencil… briefcase… vomit bag…'
'Give me a break,' I said. 'It was probably something he ate.'
Volont said, 'We don't ask directly about Sunday?'
Davies and I agreed. 'How about the banks? How direct for details?' I wanted to have the interview parameters really clear on this one.
'Whatever you need on that,' Volont said. 'Don't forget that Attorney Gunston was at the Borglan farm before
