“Scroll down,” I said.
“That’s it.”
“But there’s no demand. See if you can find a complete version-”
“That’s all there is, Dee. I’ve searched every copy, and every summary. There is no demand.”
Evelyn showed us a few sites where people were already debating the missing demand, and the significance of its absence. The prevailing theory was that the demand portion of the letter had been suppressed, that someone had managed to scare every news agency in the country into not printing it.
Bullshit, of course. The killer had intentionally held back his demand to leave people dangling. Let the panic mount, and the conspiracy theorists feed off it.
As for the ineptitude of the Feds, that was more misleading fear-mongering. He’d put the federal agents in the awkward position of defending themselves to Joe and Jane Citizen, who’ve read too many stories about inept, ineffectual or corrupt cops.
“Head games, Dee,” Jack murmured. “Remember that. We’re getting closer.”
“Are we?” I said, unclenching my jaw, but keeping my gaze down, hiding the dark rage bubbling in my gut. “This throws a big wrench in our theory, doesn’t it?”
Evelyn flicked off the monitor. “Tell me this theory.”
I explained what we’d learned from Volkv.
When I finished, she nodded. “If that’s
“This”-I waved at the television screen-“screws it all to bits. If he’s making demands, then he’s not doing preretirement cleaning.”
“Don’t be too sure, Dee. That’s isn’t the problem I meant. How many witnesses have you left, Jack?”
“None I know of.”
“I had one,” Evelyn said. “My fourth job. When I told my partner what happened, he sent me back to clean it up, and I learned my lesson there. Make damned sure you don’t have witnesses, or you might have to do something you’d rather not.”
I nodded. “In other words, if the killer is as good as he seems, there’s no way he should have left six witnesses…maybe more. So Kozlov is a coincidence?”
Evelyn shot off her chair and marched to her bookshelf. She grabbed a thin paperback. A second later it landed on my lap, the cover facing up.
“
“Former Russian mobster winds up dead, where’s the first place the cops look?”
“Organized crime.”
“A little extra effort, and Kozlov’s murder is hidden. Plus, our hitman goes out with a headline-making bang. Not a bad way to retire.”
“Killing five innocent people isn’t what I’d call a ‘little extra effort.’”
“You know what I mean. For someone who’s spent his life killing people, a few more isn’t going to matter. Most pros don’t even see
Her gaze locked mine, daring me to break away.
“Kozlov,” Jack cut in. “We need more.”
She looked at him. For a moment, no one spoke. Then she turned to her computer and got to work.
As Evelyn searched, we put together criteria for a list of potential hitmen.
“The Nikolaevs fired Kozlov in the early eighties, according to Little Joe,” I said. “That means we’re looking for a guy at least…”
“My age,” Jack said. “Probably older.”
“And judging by the language in that letter, I’d say he’s well educated,” I added.
“Age,” Evelyn said, not looking up from her typing. “The style. It’s overly formal. Not so much educated as an older person trying to sound educated.”
“Educated in an era before e-mail, so he pays more attention to his word choices, composition, whatever.” I looked at the printout. “He goes overboard. Wanting to sound smart, not be dismissed as some high school dropout thug. Appearances are important. Could be self-esteem issues there, too. Proving himself, like with the murders.”
“Wilkes retired yet?” Jack called over to Evelyn.
“Dropped out of the life years ago. And a plodder. His idea of creativity was toy handcuffs. We’re looking for someone with vision.”
“Add him anyway,” Jack said to me. Then to Evelyn. “Mercury?”
“A possibility. He was definitely creative. Knew positions even I never imagined.”
“Hank?”
“Mmm, he was pretty good, too. But he liked threesomes. Not my style. He’s dead, though. Heard he got the death sentence from his doctor, went to Reno, blew his retirement fund on reserving a whole brothel for a week and died happy.”
“How about saving us some time?” I said. “Just make a list of your former lovers.”
“You’ll need more paper.”
“Riley’s dead,” Jack said. “Falcon’s long retired. Not many left. Not at this age. Young man’s game.” He leaned back, as if searching his memory.
“What about Felix?” I said. “He’s about the right age.”
Evelyn shook her head, her eyes still on her computer screen. “He’s been with Quinn and if he started taking off, Quinn would be suspicious. Plus, Phoenix isn’t the retiring type.”
“ Phoenix?”
“Felix. Phoenix is his work name. Any hitman with a moniker like that-a bird, animal, whatever-probably has a second nom de guerre for friends. Can you imagine chatting over beer with a guy and calling him ‘ Phoenix ’?”
“So I can cross Felix/Phoenix off my list. And Quinn is obviously too young-”
“Ah, Quinn,” she said. “What did you think of
I glanced at Jack. “Okay, I guess. Seemed straight up.”
“Oh, he is. As straight as they come.” Her eyes glittered. “I bet you two will get along famously. You have so much in common, and not just a shared law-enforcement career. Quinn has another name, too, something with a little more…meaning, as much as he hates it. Perhaps you’ve heard of-”
“Scorpio,” Jack said.
“Scorpio? That’s Quinn’s other-”
“No,” Evelyn said. “Jack is telling us to move back to the list. Age-wise, Scorpio is a possibility, though you know him better than I do, Jack. Could he pull something like this?”
“Doesn’t matter. Add him. This list-” He waved at the paper in my hands. “Probably finish with four, five names. This job? Not a high retirement rate. Check them all.”
THIRTY
