“What will you do if you find Mattiece?” Grantham asked.
“Arrest him.”
“Do you have a warrant?”
“We’ll have one soon.”
“Do you have any idea where he is?”
“Frankly, no. We’ve been trying to locate him for a week, with no success.”
“Did the White House interfere with your investigation of Mattiece?”
“I’ll discuss it off the record. Agreed?”
Gray looked at the executive editor. “Agreed,” Feldman said.
Voyles stared at Feldman, then Keen, then Krauthammer, then Grantham. “We’re off the record, right? You cannot use this under any circumstances. Do we understand this?”
They nodded and watched him carefully. Darby was watching too.
Voyles looked suspiciously at Lewis. “Twelve days ago, in the Oval Office, the President of the United States asked me to ignore Victor Mattiece as a suspect. In his words, he asked me to back off.”
“Did he give a reason?” asked Grantham.
“The obvious. He said it would be very embarrassing and seriously damage his reelection efforts. He felt there was little merit to the pelican brief, and if it was investigated, then the press would learn of it, and he would suffer politically.”
Krauthammer listened with his mouth open. Keen stared at the table. Feldman hung on every word.
“Are you certain?” Gray asked.
“I recorded the conversation. I have a tape, which I will not allow anyone to hear unless the President first denies this.”
There was a long silence as they admired this mean little bastard and his tape recorder. A tape!
Feldman cleared his throat. “You just saw the story. There was a delay by the FBI from the time it had the brief until it began its investigation. This must be explained in the story.”
“You have my statement. Nothing more.”
“Who killed Gavin Verheek?” Gray asked.
“I will not talk about the specifics of the investigation.”
“But do you know?”
“We have an idea. But that’s all I’ll say.”
Gray glanced around the table. It was obvious Voyles had nothing else to say now, and everyone relaxed at the same time. The editors savored the moment.
Voyles loosened his tie, and almost smiled. “This is off the record, of course, but how did you guys find out about Morgan, the dead lawyer?”
“I will not discuss the specifics of the investigation,” Gray said with a wicked grin. They all laughed.
“What do you do now?” Krauthammer asked Voyles.
“There’ll be a grand jury by noon tomorrow. Quick indictments. We’ll try to find Mattiece, but it’ll be difficult. We have no idea where he is. He’s spent most of the past five years in the Bahamas, but owns homes in Mexico, Panama, and Paraguay.” Voyles glanced at Darby for the second time. She was leaning against the wall by the window, hearing it all.
“What time does the first edition come off the press?” Voyles asked.
“They roll off all night, starting at ten-thirty,” said Keen.
“Which edition will this story run in?”
“Late City, a few minutes before midnight. It’s the largest edition.”
“Will it have Coal’s picture on the front?”
Keen looked at Krauthammer, who looked at Feldman. “I guess it should. We’ll quote you as saying the brief was personally delivered to Fletcher Coal, who we’ll also quote as saying Mattiece gave the President four point two million. Yes, I think Mr. Coal should have his face on the front, along with everyone else.”
“I think so too,” Voyles said. “If I have a man here at midnight, can I pick up a few copies of it?”
“Certainly,” Feldman said. “Why?”
“Because I want to personally deliver it to Coal. I want to knock on his door at midnight, see him in his pajamas, and flash the paper in his face. Then I want to tell him I’ll be back with a grand jury subpoena, and shortly after that I’ll be back with an indictment. And shortly after that, I’ll be back with the handcuffs.”
He said this with such pleasure it was frightening.
“I’m glad you don’t carry a grudge,” Gray said. Only Smith Keen thought it was funny.
“Do you think he’ll be indicted?” Krauthammer asked innocently.
Voyles glanced at Darby again. “He’ll take the fall for the President. He’d volunteer for a firing squad to save his boss.”
Feldman checked his watch and pushed away from the table.
“Could I ask a favor?” Voyles asked.
“Certainly. What?”
“I’d like to spend a few minutes alone with Ms. Shaw. That is, if she doesn’t mind.”
Everyone looked at Darby, who shrugged her approval. The editors and K. O. Lewis stood in unison and filed out of the room. Darby took Gray’s hand and asked him to stay. They sat opposite Voyles at the table.
“I wanted to talk in private,” Voyles said, looking at Gray.
“He stays,” she said. “It’s off the record.”
“Very well.”
She beat him to the punch. “If you plan to interrogate me, I won’t talk without an attorney present.”
He was shaking his head. “Nothing like that. I was just wondering what’s next for you.”
“Why should I tell you?”
“Because we can help.”
“Who killed Gavin?”
Voyles hesitated. “Off the record.”
“Off the record,” said Gray.
“I’ll tell you who we think killed him, but first tell me how much you talked to him before he died.”
“We talked several times over the weekend. We were supposed to meet last Monday, and leave New Orleans.”
“When did you last talk to him?”
“Sunday night.”
“And where was he?”
“In his room at the Hilton.”
Voyles breathed deeply, and looked at the ceiling. “And you discussed with him the meeting on Monday?”
“Yes.”
“Had you met him before?”
“No.”
“The man who killed him was the same man you were holding hands with when he lost his brains.”
She was afraid to ask. Gray did it for her. “Who was that?”
“The great Khamel.”
She choked and covered her eyes, and tried to say something. But it wouldn’t work.
“This is rather confusing,” Gray said, straining to be rational.
“Rather, yes. The man who killed Khamel is a contract operative hired independently by the CIA. He was on the scene when Callahan was killed, and I think he made contact with Darby.”
“Rupert,” she said quietly.
“That’s not his real name, of course, but Rupert’ll do. He’s probably got twenty names. If it’s who I think it is, he’s a British chap who’s very reliable.”
“Do you have any idea how confusing this is?” she asked.
“I can imagine.”
“Why was Rupert in New Orleans? Why was he following her?” Gray asked.
