‘What was it? He looked like he was having a heart attack in there.’
Lock shook his head. ‘They ran an ECT. It wasn’t a heart attack.’
‘So what was it?’
‘Some kind of anxiety thing.’
‘A panic attack?’ Carrie asked, disbelieving.
Lock shrugged. ‘The excitement must have been too much for him. First time outside prison in ten years, half a dozen men across the court wishing him into the ground — who knows?’
‘You think he faked it?’ Carrie asked.
It was the first thing that had crossed Lock’s mind, and he’d said as much to the paramedic who wanted to transfer Reaper to the nearest hospital for further tests. With Jalicia’s help, Lock had won the day, and they’d stabilized Reaper inside the court. But if Reaper had been faking, it was an Oscar-worthy performance.
‘I don’t know,’ he said.
‘So what happens now?’
‘There’s nothing physically wrong with him so nine o’clock tomorrow morning he’s back on the stand.’
‘Where they gonna keep him?’
Lock lowered his voice a notch. He’d been asked by Jalicia to advise on security until the Marshals Service could put in place proper replacements for their fallen comrades. ‘A holding cell inside. It’s best not to move him, although that’s not what your buddies are going to be told.’ He nodded in the direction of the press pack. ‘We’re going to move a decoy out. Muddy the trail a little.’
‘What about the six defendants?’
‘They’re staying in a different part of the same building.’
‘Isn’t that risky?’
Lock took a step back, another sniper coming into focus on a different rooftop. A police helicopter buzzed low, chasing off a couple of television news helicopters that were hovering above the courthouse snatching some overhead footage before nightfall completely engulfed the scene. ‘Right now, everything’s risky.’
Carrie sighed. ‘At least Jalicia got through most of what she wanted.’
‘Oh yeah,’ said Lock. ‘Tomorrow’s about tying up some loose ends and then the defense having their opportunity to pick it all apart, but as far as the jury’s concerned the damage is pretty much done.’ He looked at Carrie. ‘Which is just as well for you.’
She glanced up at him, puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, it took one hell of a lot of persuasion, and I had to throw in my best friend almost being killed, but I got you the interview you wanted with Reaper.’
Carrie’s mouth fell open. ‘No way. Jalicia agreed?’
‘Reluctantly, but yes. Coburn, Ken’s boss from the ATF, showed up when I was talking to her about it. He thought that Reaper on the tube might get the bigwigs in Washington to start paying some more attention to the threat white supremacists pose to domestic security, which would mean more money for his budget.’
‘And two bombed Federal Buildings won’t do that?’ Carrie said.
‘Body count wasn’t high enough, plus, as far as the politicians are concerned, it ain’t real unless it’s on primetime, right?’
Carrie smiled. ‘And what does Reaper think about this?’
‘Seems like he’s turning into quite the attention-whore. Now he’s started talking, no one can shut him up. He’s said that nothing’s off limits. You can ask him anything.’ He paused. ‘There are some conditions, however. It can’t be broadcast until after the verdict. In fact Jalicia and Coburn don’t even want it mentioned that you’ve done it until the jury are back.’
‘That’s fairly standard. Anything else?’
‘You’re not going to have a lot of time to prepare.’
‘How come?’
‘Because it’s scheduled for tonight at midnight.’
‘That means I have less than six hours.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Lock, leaning in to steal a kiss. ‘You’re like me.’
‘In what way?’
He grinned. ‘You always do your best work under pressure.’
35
It was two minutes to midnight in downtown Medford. With Lock behind him, Reaper walked into the blaze of TV lights, a prize fighter staking out his spot at the weigh-in. Still clad in his suit and tie, he looked more like an aging rock star than an avowed neo-Nazi psychopath. He settled into the chair opposite Carrie as Lock and two US Marshals took up a position directly behind him.
Carrie flicked through her notes as the camera settled over her shoulder to capture Reaper’s answers. While the interview was a major coup for Carrie, Lock had thought that it might also serve as a way of drawing out Reaper’s true motives for betraying his former brothers-in-arms. But before they got to that, Carrie had told Lock she wanted the viewers at home to know exactly the kind of person Reaper really was.
‘Mr Hays, why are you currently serving three life sentences without possibility of parole?’
Lock watched Reaper straighten in his chair, the muscles in his back tightening visibly as he did so.
‘Like I said in court today, I was standing up for the most beaten-down minority in America today.’
‘And who would that be, Mr Hays?’
‘White people.’
‘But you did commit a crime — several crimes, in fact.’
Reaper opened his mouth to say something, but Carrie cut him off with a wave of her hand. Lock tensed. Reaper was a man used to being heard.
‘According to the record, Mr Hays, while serving as a Navy Seal, and with a once proud record of service to your country, you planted an explosive device in the vehicle of your commanding officer which killed both him and his two young daughters. Your commanding officer was African-American. Was that why you murdered him and his family?’
Jalicia had briefed Lock on some of this but the details had been left sketchy. He’d known that Reaper had served in the army, but not with such an elite unit. He’d also known about the murder of Reaper’s commanding officer and his two daughters, and heard something about it being racially motivated.
Reaper lowered his head. ‘The two kids were collateral damage. They weren’t supposed to be there.’
‘But you did intend to kill Lloyd Thomas?’
‘Lloyd Thomas was an incompetent who climbed the ranks because of positive discrimination, because of the colour of his skin, and because of bleeding-heart liberals like you. As a result, men died. Good men.’
‘Good white men?’ Carrie prompted.
‘Yes, they were white. White men like the ones who built this country. With their own blood and sweat. And now it’s being torn from us, swamped by the mud people who want everything for nothing.’
There was a sudden crackle on the radio of a Marshal standing behind Lock. Carrie looked up from her notes in irritation. Lock turned round to see what was happening. The Marshal had his finger up to his earpiece, listening intently.
‘We’re going to have to finish this up later,’ the Marshal said. ‘We have a situation in the street outside.’
A sudden current of tension ran through the room. Everyone fell silent. Lock noticed Reaper’s back straighten, as though he was getting ready for action.
‘Kill the lights,’ Lock said.
The cameraman hesitated, glancing at Carrie for approval.
‘Now,’ Lock ordered.
He did as he was told, reaching down to click off the three high-powered tungsten lights arranged in a triangle around Carrie and Reaper. Immediately, the room was plunged into semi-darkness.
Lock crossed to the door and flicked off the main light, reducing everyone in the room to shadows.
