'Bucs in five. Roberto's real tough this year.' Clemente was having a career year.
'Oh, yeah? Well, so are Brooks and Frank.' The Robinsons weren't doing so badly either. 'What can I do for you?'
'Lieutenant, I have some information for you. Two homicides, both victims female, in their late teens, early twenties.'
'Back up, please.' Allen got a clean sheet of paper. 'Who's your source?'
'I can't reveal that yet. It's privileged. I'm working on changing that, but it might take a while. Can I go on?'
'Very well. Names of victims?'
'The recent one was named Pamela Madden - very recent, only a few weeks ago.'
Lieutenant Allen's eyes went wide. 'Jesus - the fountain murder. And the other one?'
'Her name was Helen, sometime last fall. Both murders were ugly, Lieutenant, torture and sexual abuse.'
Allen hunched forward with the phone very close to his ear. 'You telling me you have a witness to both killings?'
'That is correct, sir, I believe we do. I got two likely perps for you, too. Two white males, one named Billy and the other named Rick. No descriptions, but I can work on that, too.'
'Okay, they're not my cases. It's being handled downtown - Lieutenant Ryan and Sergeant Douglas. I know both names - both victims, I mean. These are high-profile cases, Sarge. How solid is your information?'
'I believe it to be very solid. I have one possible indicator for you. Victim number two, Pamela Madden - her hair was brushed out after she was killed.'
In every major criminal case, several important pieces of evidence were always left out of press accounts in order to screen out the usual collection of nuts who called in to confess to something - anything that struck their twisted fancies. This thing with the hair was sufficiently protected that even Lieutenant Allen didn't know about it.
'What else do yon have?'
'The murders were drug-related. Both girls were mules.'
'Bingo!' Allen exclaimed quietly. 'Is your source in jail or what?'
'I'm pushing the edge here, but - okay, I'll level with you. My dad's a preacher. He's counseling the girl. Lieutenant, this is really off-the-record stuff, okay?'
'I understand. What do you want me to do?'
'Could you please forward the info to the investigating officers? They can contact me through the station.' Sergeant Meyer gave over his number. 'I'm a watch supervisor here, and I have to roll out now to deliver a lecture at the academy. I'll be back about four.'
'Very well, sergeant. I'll pass that along. Thanks a lot for the input. You'll be hearing from Em and Tom. Depend on it.' Jesus, we'd give Pittsburgh the fuckin' Series to bag these bastards. Allen switched buttons on his phone.
'Hey, Frank,' Lieutenant Ryan said. When he set his coffee cup down, it appeared like slow-motion. That stopped when he picked up a pen. 'Keep talking. I'm writing this down.'
Sergeant Douglas was late this morning because of an accident on 1-83. He came in with his usual coffee and danish to see his boss scribbling furiously.
'Brushed out the hair? He said that?' Ryan asked. Douglas leaned across the desk, and the look in Ryan's eyes was like that of a hunter who just heard the first rustle in the leaves. 'Okay, what names did he -' The detective's hand balled into a fist. A long breath. 'Okay, Frank, where is this guy? Thanks. 'Bye.'
'Break?'
'Pittsburgh,' Ryan said.
'Huh?'
'Call from a police sergeant in Pittsburgh, a possible witness in the murders of Pamela Madden and Helen Waters.'
'No shit?'
'This is the one who brushed her hair, Tom. And guess what other names came along with it?'
'Richard Farmer and William Grayson?'
'Rick and Billy. Close enough? Possible mule for a drug ring. Wait... ' Ryan leaned back, staring at the yellowed ceiling. 'There was a girl there when Farmer was killed - we think there was,' he corrected himself. 'It's the connection, Tom. Pamela Madden, Helen Waters, Farmer, Grayson, they're all related... and that means -'
'The pushers, too. All connected somehow. What connects them, Em? We know they were all - probably all - in the drug business.'
'Two different MOs, Tom. The girls were slaughtered like - no, you don't even do that to cattle. All the rest, though, all of them were taken down by the Invisible Man. Man on a mission! That's what Farber said, a man on a mission.'
'Revenge,' Douglas said, pacing Ryan's analysis on his own. 'If one of those girls was close to me - Jesus, Em, who could blame him?'
There was only one person connected with either murder who'd been close with a victim, and he was known to the police department, wasn't he? Ryan grabbed his phone and called back to Lieutenant Allen.
'Frank, what was the name of that guy who worked the Gooding case, the Navy gay?'
'Kelly, John Kelly, he found the gun off Fork McHenry, then downtown contracted him to train our divers, remember? Oh! Pamela Madden! Jesus!' Allen exclaimed when the connection became clear.
'Tell me about him, Frank.'
'Hell of a nice guy. Quiet, kinda sad - lost his wife, auto accident or something.'
'Veteran, right?'
'Frogman, underwater demolitions. That's how he earns his living, blowing things up. Underwater stuff, like.'
'Keep going.'
'Physically he's pretty tough, takes care of himself.' Allen paused. 'I saw him dive, there's some marks on him, scars, I mean. He's seen combat and caught some fire. I got his address and all if you want.'
'I have it in my case file, Frank. Thanks, buddy.' Ryan hung up. 'He's our guy. He's the Invisible Man.'
'Kelly?'
'I have to, be in court this morning - damn it!' Ryan swore.
'Nice to see you again,' Dr Farber said. Monday was an easy day for him. He'd seen his last patient of the day and was heading out for after-lunch tennis with his sons. The cops had barely caught him heading out of his office.
'What do you know about UDT guys?' Ryan asked, walking out into the corridor with him.
'Frogmen, you mean? Navy?'
'That right. Tough, are they?'
Farber grinned around his pipe. 'They're the first guys on the beach, ahead of the Marines. What do you think?' He paused. Something clicked in his mind. 'There's something even better now.'
'What do you mean?' the detective lieutenant asked.
'Well, I still do a little work for the Pentagon. Hopkins does a lot of things for the government. Applied Physics Lab, lots of special things. You know my background.' He paused. 'Sometimes I do psychological testing, consulting - what combat does to people. This is classified material, right? There's a new special-operations group. It's a spin-off of UDT. They call them SEALs now, for Sea Air Land - they're commandos, real serious folks, and their existence is not widely known. Not just tough. Smart. They're trained to think, to plan ahead. Not just muscle. Brains, too.'
'Tattoo,' Douglas said, remembering. 'He has a tattoo of a seal on his arm.'
'Doc, what if one of these SEAL guys had a girl who was brutally murdered?' It was the most obvious of questions, but he had to ask it.
'That's the mission you were looking for,' Farber said, heading out the door, unwilling to reveal anything else, even for a murder investigation.
'That's our boy. Except for one thing,' Ryan said quietly to the closed door. 'Yeah. No evidence. Just one hell of a motive.'
