take him in for questioning about his role in the death of the Pragers. But at least Roach had been useful, Lock thought: he’d established the identity and parentage of the woman who was almost certainly Ken’s killer.
They pulled in to an off-site lot next to LAX, parked the Lincoln at the back and caught a shuttle bus to the terminal, where Lock used his credit card to get them two seats on the next flight up to San Francisco. Because they would have to check their firearms at the check-in desk, Lock made sure to wipe off any residue of the SIG’s contact with Roach’s head before he stowed it in its lockable carry case.
Inside the terminal, they headed to the Virgin America counter, filled in the appropriate paperwork and checked their bags. Then, boarding passes in hand, they made for security, both, thankfully, passing through the detector without incident. A swipe might well have showed positive for cordite, and that wasn’t a conversation they wanted to have with a member of the Transport Security Administration, whom Lock regarded with an informed contempt.
Instead, they watched as a ninety-year-old woman in a wheelchair was led into the Perspex search box and asked repeatedly to stand so that they could wand her. Lock, who was gathering his wallet and belt from the end of the conveyor, quickly lost his patience. The door leading out of the Perspex box was ajar, so he turned in the direction of the female TSA officer as she said for a third time, ‘Ma’am, do you think you could stand up, just for a few seconds?’ and said, ‘Miss?’, taking a leaf from the TSA officer’s book and being an asshole, politely, with a smile on his face.
Ty nudged Lock. ‘What about the grey man?’ he said, referring to Lock’s belief that a good close protection operative had a duty not to call attention to himself.
Lock ignored him.
The TSA officer looked over. ‘Can I help you, sir?’
‘Does she look like she can stand?’ Lock asked, still polite.
‘Are you traveling with her?’
The elderly woman opened her mouth.
‘She’s my aunt,’ he said firmly. ‘Now, we have several hours until our plane actually departs, so I’d like to see your supervisor and register a formal complaint regarding your behaviour towards an elderly, not to mention disabled, passenger.’
The TSA officer flushed under the two inches of make-up she’d plastered over her face. ‘There’s really no need-’
‘I’d say asking someone in a wheelchair to stand three times means there’s every need. Now, will you call your supervisor, or shall I?’
Lock kept his tone even and low, like a parent explaining to a toddler why they shouldn’t run with scissors.
‘I’ll just run the wand and then you can both be on your way,’ the officer said, hurriedly.
Lock sighed. The TSA had caught a lot of flak since their formation. They had some good people — ex-law enforcement and military — but they also had more than their fair share of people who couldn’t read a leaflet without moving their lips and who confused brusqueness with thoroughness.
The officer waved her wand vaguely in the elderly woman’s direction. ‘Thank you, ma’am.’
Lock stepped forward, took the woman’s wheelchair by its handles and pushed it out of the box as the female officer went to look for someone else to give a hard time to. Maybe a nun, he thought, or a boy scout. Someone who fitted the profile of crazed terrorist bent on bringing the western world to its knees.
Once they were well clear of the security area, the elderly woman craned her neck back to get a view of her rescuer. ‘Thank you, young man,’ she said, sweetly. ‘Those people are such assholes.’
At their gate, a knot of passengers and ground crew were standing in front of a plasma screen tuned to a twenty-four-hour news station. Lock and Ty shuffled to a halt, hoping that they weren’t the main feature, but no one gave them a second glance. Instead everyone stared intently at the screen as a news update rolled along the bottom: ‘Supreme Court Justice Junius Holmes Killed In Multiple Vehicle Auto Smash’.
Lock edged closer to a middle-aged cleaning woman holding a mop.
‘When’d this happen?’ he asked her.
She shrugged, grabbed her mop and bucket and shuffled away.
Lock was reaching for his cell as it rang. Carrie.
‘You see the news?’ she asked him.
‘Just now.’
‘Well, we’re getting early word that it wasn’t an accident.’
This didn’t make sense to Lock. These kind of incidents usually took days of piecing together. For law enforcement to be hinting at foul play so early in an auto smash was almost unheard of. Even if it did involve someone like Junius Holmes, who despite his WASPy name had made his reputation getting down and dirty in the trenches as a prosecutor in the Department of Justice before being appointed by the new President to serve on the Supreme Court.
‘Why do they think that?’ he asked.
‘Because of reports from the scene. A truck driver who got tangled up in it said there was an SUV containing two white males who’d aimed straight for Holmes.’
‘Maybe the driver lost control of the car?’
‘Oh, he lost control OK.’
‘So why do the authorities think it was deliberate?’ Lock asked, taking a few more steps away from the throng staring up at the screen.
Ty edged away with him. ‘Carrie says they don’t think it was an accident,’ Lock said to him.
‘Ryan, you still there?’
‘Yeah, I’m here.’
‘The two white guys in the SUV. One died at the scene. The other fled. The one who died was sporting a swastika tattoo.’
‘Neither of them female?’
‘No. Why?’
‘Well, it turns out that the woman who pulled the trigger on Prager was almost certainly Reaper’s daughter.’
Carrie made a low whistling noise down the phone. ‘That would explain a few things. But how did she persuade everyone else to get involved in taking that kind of risk to spring him?’
‘I’d guess, judging from something else I’ve found out about Ken, that she had her methods.’
‘What?’
‘Well, there’s no way of knowing for sure, but we think she was sleeping with Ken even though we think she knew who he was right from the get go.’
Carrie was quiet for a moment as she digested this. ‘Poor Janet,’ she said at last.
‘Yeah,’ Lock agreed. ‘Can you see what you can get on Reaper’s daughter for us?’
‘I’m on it. Anything else?’
‘Do we know if Junius Holmes ever went after any of the white supremacist groups?’
‘Better than that. He helped put away Reaper in the first place.’
Lock could hear someone speaking to Carrie.
‘Ryan, hang on.’
Lock’s eyes tracked back to the TV screen and the carnage at the scene of the accident, then Carrie came back on the line.
‘Got one more thing for you. When Jalicia was coming up through the ranks at the DOJ, guess who her mentor was.’
Onscreen, a body was being loaded into the back of an ambulance.
‘Junius Holmes,’ said Lock.
54
