in white container. Tastes good! Watched TV and now I’m really worried. Wake me when you come up to bed, so I don’t worry. On the bright side, the weather report says we might get a white Christmas yet. Love, Sue.”
The lasagna was really good. I sat in the living room, eating it and watching our segment every fifteen minutes on Headline News. They changed the background footage twice, so I stayed up for another thirty minutes waiting to see if they’d change it again. They didn’t. Between times, I surfed through other news channels and got to hear some fascinating commentary about what was happening in New York City and Nation County, Iowa. Nobody seemed to have either the delivery method or the targeting anywhere near right. I learned a lot about ricin, and even got a five-minute segment regarding the “legitimate uses of castor oil.” This case was getting to be a real education.
So far, nobody had managed to link the poisoning to any specific terrorist network. Speculation was rife, though. Some poor bastard from the Israeli Embassy had been cornered, and was badgered about who he thought had done it, and if he thought it was an anti-Semitic hate crime, if he thought it would lead to a U.S. strike in the Middle East, and if he thought Israeli citizens felt safe in Tel Aviv. He did a very credible job of avoiding saying anything, and spent most of his time trying to reassure the reporter that “the U.S. authorities, I am sure, are handling this case with great expertise.” I thought that was nice of him. I also think he deserved a little credit for not calling the reporter an idiot.
I woke Sue and told her I was home. It must have been reassuring, because she was asleep again in two minutes. I think she only beat me by a minute or two.
CHAPTER 21
SATURDAY, DECEMBER 22, 2001 08:44
Sue and I were awakened BY the telephone at the head of the bed. I remember wondering for the umpteenth time why I’d ever thought I needed to buy an alarm clock, and then I picked it up.
“Houseman.”
“Did I get you up?” It was Volont.
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, you did.”
“Well, rise and shine. We got one!”
I sat upright. “What?”
“We got some of Odeh’s people, that’s who. One sad bastard was driving the vehicle that Odeh was using in Coralville. It was observed at about three this morning in Michigan. The troopers notified us, and we all just followed the idiot to an apartment building. We just walked in with him and watched where he went. We hit the place as they opened the door. It was great! Odeh wasn’t anywhere around, and we’re sure nobody got out of the apartment unless they were with us. One of ‘em started talking. He says that there are two plants-one in Michigan, one in Nebraska-which they’ve targeted. He says something’s supposed to happen tonight, about four A.M. He’s given us some names of some of the workers.”
“No shit!”
“No shit, old buddy. Hawse says to tell you guys down there that you’ve done a terrific job. I couldn’t agree more. Just keep the lid on for another day or two, and we should have these people in the bag.”
“No problem. Hell, just the report-writing ought to keep us out of trouble for a month.”
“You got that right!”
I didn’t say it, but I also thought it would be nice to get back to finishing the work on the Rudy Cueva murder case.
After I hung up, Sue said, “What?”
“Oh, good news. About the big case. Can’t tell you what, but I’m going to be spending the next few days behind a keyboard, writing endless reports.”
“Oh, that’s great!”
It was, in a way.
“This means that you’ll be home for Christmas,” she said.
“You bet.” It was just about certain, in fact.
Today was Saturday, and Christmas was Tuesday. I thought I just might coast right into the holidays. We had Skripkin, we had a warrant for Hassan also known as Alvarez, we had a strong potential witness in Linda, and we had a motive. We needed to find this Chato, get an ID, and charge him with conspiracy to commit murder. That wouldn’t take long. The warrant for him at least. I suspected he was wherever Hassan/Alvarez had gotten himself to, and if he was, I figured he could well be dead by now. No great loss, and it would lay a second murder charge on Hassan/Alvarez. Him we needed. It would take time, but somebody, somewhere would snag him.
I rolled up to the parking lot at 09:35, past the media’s three huge microwave rigs, and allowed myself to think just how empty the place would be without them. As it was, the residents near the jail were getting a little upset since the trucks were set up in the only available space near the jail, the main highway leading out of town. As a consequence, the normal eighteen-wheeler traffic was being routed through the residential streets and bothering just about everybody. It was a good thing there was no snow, or we’d have been completely screwed.
Hester and George were both in the kitchen as I got there. The late shift had bought rolls at the local bakery, and Sally had put on some fresh coffee. In the jail kitchen, Big Ears was curled up at Hester’s feet, and George was reading the Des Moines Register.
“Good God,” I said as I walked in, “how domestic can we get?”
It was strange. I don’t think we’d realized just how much we had been running on adrenaline the last few days. Now that we were out of the main effort in the ricin case, everybody just got tired all at once.
“You know,” said George, “I really don’t feel like working today.”
“Not until Hawse and Volont want your report,” said Hester.
“Well…”
“It’s gonna take me the better part of the day just to get stuff sorted out,” I said. “I’ve almost lost track of where we are with Rudy…”
Five hours later, after going over all the notes, all the statements, all the prior reports, and combining them in my report on the death of Rudy Cueva, I declared myself ready for lunch.
“Me, too,” said Hester. “George?”
“Yeah?”
“When’s your next news briefing?”
“No later than 4:30 this afternoon. Closer to four if I can manage it.”
“Anything new to tell?” I asked.
“Not until I hear from Hawse and company. Just the same old ‘the investigation is progressing’ statement. Then refuse to answer questions about anything but the weather.” He was totally relaxed. I though he was beginning to enjoy being the PR man on the scene.
The three of us ambled out to the kitchen to scrounge up something to eat. It was amazing. None of us had even had a phone call since about 9:00. It was almost like a vacation.
We cooked up tomato soup and toasted cheese sandwiches, with Sally’s help. I was assigned to stir the soup, since everybody seemed to think I overcook everything I put in a frying pan.
“Toasted cheese sandwiches are supposed to be black.”
It was a fine meal. Just as we finished, a phone call came in for George.
“It had to end sometime,” he said cheerfully.
It was Volont. George talked to him for a few seconds, then said to me, “He’d like to talk to you.”
“Really? “I took the phone, trying to think of what could possibly be left.
“We’re doing the hits on the two plants later today. All the action is on the plant’s late shift, so the fun should start about eleven tonight,” said Volont. “Just wanted to keep you posted.”
“Excellent!”
“So, they want us to make this one ‘airtight.’ That’s the word Hawse is using now. ‘Airtight.’ He said to check with you to see if you had any additional information develop in the last couple of hours.”
