‘About the same. Let me tell you, I’ll be glad to get off this thing. These guys creep me out.’
‘Relax, they’ve got enough shit in their system to flatten an elephant.’
‘What’re they being moved back here for, anyway?’
‘Dunno. I heard something about a trial.’
‘Good. Hope they smoke ’em.’
‘I’d stick a bullet in them, save on the energy.’
The Gulfstream taxied to the end of the runway and turned right, heading for a remote hangar no more than five hundred yards away. The doors of the hangar were already open and more than a dozen men were inside, along with six SUVs. Like everyone onboard, all of the men were masked.
The aircraft inched its way inside the hangar and the vast metal doors were rolled closed behind it. A few seconds later the aircraft door opened and the steps were unfolded and lowered to the ground. One of the men walked up them and disappeared inside the aircraft.
Only one of the detainees had been unshackled. The woman. One of the guards unholstered his sidearm and passed it to his partner. He helped her off the gurney and on to her feet. She struggled to stand and it was as much as he could do to prevent her keeling over. They lumbered down the steps of the plane like lovers stumbling from a bar.
As she stepped on to the concrete, she sank down on to her knees.
‘She OK?’
‘Be careful, she might be faking it.’
‘Dude, you’ve got an overactive imagination.’
‘You read that bitch’s file? She’s snuffed more people than Bin Laden.’
Forty-five
‘This is bullshit. I didn’t take any kid!’
‘Then what were you doing there, Cody?’
Frisk was facing Cody Parker and his court-appointed attorney, a Hispanic woman in her late twenties, across a table in an interrogation room on the third floor of Federal Plaza.
‘I told you. I got a phone call.’
‘That’s very convenient. From who?’
‘I don’t know. They said they knew who killed Gray Stokes and that if I wanted to know I should meet them at that address.’
‘They didn’t give you a name? You didn’t recognize the voice?’
‘Nope. Look, if I kidnapped this kid then where’s the money, huh? Or did you plant it in my truck?’
‘Why don’t you tell us where it is.’
‘Someone set me up.’
Frisk rocked back in his seat, stretched out his arms and yawned. ‘Go on, then, I’m prepared to explore alternative scenarios.’
‘It was that company. They were looking to get back at me.’
Frisk laughed. Unprofessional, but he couldn’t help it. ‘They arranged a kidnapping of the child of one of their employees in order to exact some kind of revenge against you personally? OK, it’s certainly an interesting hypothesis. But it still doesn’t speak to motive. Why you?’
‘What do you mean, “why me”? I’ve been taking them on. And why aren’t you out there trying to catch whoever killed my mom?’
‘Because we don’t have any evidence that she died from anything other than natural causes. But it does bring us neatly to another event. Digging up Eleanor Van Straten’s corpse. That what you mean by “taking them on”?’
Cody glanced up at the ceiling. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Except we’ve found particles of soil on your boots which match the soil from Mrs Van Straten’s grave.’
Cody’s jaw tightened. He gave his attorney the briefest of looks. ‘OK, so that was me.’
‘Finally,’ Frisk said. ‘And who was with you?’
‘I was alone.’
‘Moving a body, even a little old lady, is a two-man job. Minimum.’
‘I told you. I was alone.’
‘So this friend of yours, he the one who blew up the car, get rid of any forensics?’
‘You got me blowing shit up to get rid of forensics
‘Well, you have to concede you were there. I mean, no one teleported you or anything.’
‘I was there. And I told you why. Check the phone records at the house if you don’t believe me.’
‘We already did.’
‘And?’
‘You received a call when you said you did.’
‘Then I’m telling the truth.’
‘Records don’t say anything about what was being said. And as for telling the truth, how many times were you questioned about Mrs Van Straten?’
‘Don’t rightly remember.’
‘Three times. And three times you denied having any involvement. So allow me some scepticism when it comes to your record on honesty.’
Cody stretched his arms towards the ceiling. ‘So what happens now?’
‘You’re arraigned. You wait to go to trial. You’ll have plenty of time to think about whether or not you want to plead guilty.’
‘You can’t put this on me. Or anyone in the movement.’
‘That so?’ Frisk said, getting up from his seat and crossing to a plastic storage box in the corner of the room. He removed the lid and pulled out a clear plastic evidence bag. Inside there was a photo album with a red spine and a plain grey cover. He brought it back to the table. ‘Go ahead.’
Cody opened the bag like something might leap out from the album’s pages and bite him. ‘This is mine. So what?’
‘Oh, we know it’s yours. It’s got your prints all over it.’
‘So why are you asking me then?’
‘Because it was with Josh Hulme when he was found. Someone dropped it at the exchange point. And it has your prints all over it as well as those of Josh Hulme.’
‘I had a bunch of shit taken in a robbery,’ Cody said flatly.
‘You report it?’
‘No,’ Cody answered, shaking his head.
‘Josh Hulme told us that this album was in the room where he was kept after he was abducted.’
Frisk reached over and opened the album to a random page. The eyes were big, brown and familiar to Frisk and Cody. So was the red raw flesh on top of the dog’s skull.
The door opened and a uniformed officer walked in. He bent down next to Frisk, lowered his voice. ‘There’s a Ryan Lock demanding to speak to you.’
Frisk got up. He picked up the album and held it up to Cody’s face. ‘Pretty sick thing to expose a child to, wouldn’t you agree, Mr Parker?’
Forty-six
‘You want me to one-eighty this investigation on the word of a teenage hooker you found in a strip club?
