O’Rourke?”
“Yes.”
“You have a phone call at the hostess stand.”
“Who knows we’re here?” asked Liz. “I told Seamus in case he needed to get ahold of me. I’ll be right back.”
Michael got up and followed the waitress across the small restaurant.
Liz watched him talk on the phone and became concerned when she saw him close his eyes and shake his head. After talking for only about ten seconds, Michael handed the phone to the hostess and walked back to Liz.
“Was that Seamus?” she asked. Michael nodded yes and pulled out his money clip.
He threw a hundred-dollar bill on the table and stuck out his hand for Liz. “Come on, let’s go. The networks are reporting that Congressman Turnquist has been assassinated.”
McMahon was sitting upstairs in Turnquist’s study by himself. His eyes were closed and
184
he had a pair of thin leather gloves on his hands. His large frame rested comfortably in an old wood rocking chair. The rocking of the chair had a hypnotic effect, and Skip was in the midst of trying to re-create how Turnquist and the marshals had been killed. He envisioned a group of darkly clad men moving into position and then simultaneously killing the three guards outside with silenced weapons. They had to have used silenced weapons. All of the clues indicated that the marshal inside had had no idea that the others had been killed. An agent poked her head through the open door. “Skip, there’re two people downstairs who are asking for you.”
“Who are they?”
“I don’t know. One of them is a Marine.
They said you were expecting them.” McMahon sprang the chair forward and bounded out of it. He’d been excitedly waiting to compare notes with Heaney and
Kennedy. Taking the back staircase, he went downstairs, through the kitchen, and down the hallway onto the front porch. The Quick Response Team had arrived and was setting up their equipment.
Turnquist’s house looked more like a movie set than a crime scene.
Floodlights were everywhere, illuminating the entire yard. The hum of generators droned through the still night air. General Heaney and Irene Kennedy were standing by the steps on the front lawn talking to each other. McMahon approached and said, “Thank you for coming so quickly.
Have you seen any of the bodies yet?”
“We saw the one in the driveway and the other one right over there.”
General Heaney pointed to the dead marshal on the front lawn. “Well, before I start picking your brains, I’d like you to look at all the bodies.” Skip led them up the steps, saying, “All of the marshals were wearing body armor, but it didn’t do much good.” A
photographer was taking photos and several agents were taking notes and talking.
McMahon asked them to step aside for a moment.
Heaney and Kennedy examined the dead marshal lying at the foot of the stairs. They looked at the three bullet holes in the center of the dead man’s face and then at his holstered gun and radio. Kennedy looked into the dining room and pointed at the shattered glass. “The shots came from there, I assume.” McMahon nodded. “We found five shell casings on the porch.” Heaney looked up at the bloodstain on the wall of the landing.
“Is that the Congressman?”
185
“Yes.”
“Can I go up there?”
“Sure.” Heaney and Kennedy walked up the stairs while McMahon stayed by the foyer.
Standing over the body, Kennedy said, “Jesus, they really unloaded on him.”
“Yeah, I count at least eight hits. Maybe more,” replied Heaney.
“Any idea why they pumped so many into him?” asked McMahon from the bottom of the stairs. “Two possibilities,” answered Heaney. “The first being they obviously wanted to make sure he was dead, and the second” -Heaney pointed toward the shell casings by
McMahon’s feet—“two or more men fired the shots. Your ballistics people should be able to answer that for us.” Kennedy and Heaney trotted back down the stairs. “Let’s take a look at the one out front again.” McMahon led them out the front door and down the steps. “This guy got two to the face and one to the neck.” McMahon bent over and lifted the man’s jacket. “His gun is still holstered, but his radio is missing. We found it up there on the porch, by the broken window.” Kennedy looked to the broken window and back at the man by her feet. “They took the radio so they could find out if the guy inside knew what was going on.”
Heaney looked toward the side of the house. “Were the shots fired from over there?”
“Yes.” McMahon moved toward the side yard. “We found some shell casings over here. It looks like the perp took three shots. Two hit the man square in the face and the third hit him in the neck.” Heaney and Kennedy looked at the shell casings and judged the distance of the shots. “I assume the last marshal is out back?” asked Irene. “Yes.
Follow me.” The three of them walked around the side of the house and to the backyard. As they approached the body, McMahon said, “Single shot to the head.” Skip bent down and opened the marshal’s jacket.
