Part 8 (1/2)
Anyway, it was all very interesting. In fact, John was just winding up a comprehensive and, dare I say, spellbinding explanation about the protocols involved with firewalls when I pulled out my gun and plugged them both. Just kidding.
Actually, I wasn't armed, so I did the next best thing--I fled.
Even Bian, who had showed enough familiarity with the subject to ask them a few probing and intelligent-sounding questions, looked relieved to get out of there.
We stopped off at the coffee machine, filled a cup for me, a cup for her, and proceeded to my cramped office carrel, where we sat.
I mentioned, ”Why did you ask questions questions? It only encourages them.”
She smiled. ”The expression on your face when I asked about code-mapping made it all worth it.”
Obviously needing to change the subject, I mentioned, ”Incidentally, I was very impressed with your boss. Does he ever pull his head out of his b.u.t.t?”
”I could see you two hit it off. Is this the start of something beautiful and lasting?”
”Personally, I like the guy. I really do. I'm going to do my best to develop a warm and amicable relations.h.i.+p.”
”Bulls.h.i.+t.”
”Right. Who is he?”
”Former military. A retired MP colonel, in fact. Look, I know he's a little intense, somewhat rigid . . . but he's good at his job. Very deliberate, by-the-book.”
”Like Adolf Eichmann.”
”Good a.n.a.logy. But, well . . .” She searched her mind for something nice to say and came up with, ”At least there's never a mystery about where he's coming from.”
”Okay. Where is he coming from on Clifford Daniels?”
”Who the h.e.l.l knows?” She laughed.
”He knows.” After a moment, I asked, ”So, how should we approach this thing?”
Bian understood exactly what I was asking, and why. At the start of a murder investigation you usually have a corpse, if you're lucky, also a murder weapon, and you have to dig for the rest--things like motives, suspects, and, for good measure, sufficient evidence, eyewitnesses, and elements of proof to get the bad guy an appointment on the hot seat. Sometimes--very often, in fact--the killer is an idiot and leaves a mother lode of clues and leads that draw a straight line from victim to killer--such as fingerprints, sperm cells, DNA markers, witnesses, and, increasingly in this cinematic age, the deed might even be captured on videotape. Killers, at least most killers, really aren't that clever or deceitful.
This wasn't one of those cases. Here, I suspected, we had that rare criminal who operated on a higher plane--thus, where we began, and how we began, would determine how fast we went and how many dead ends we hit.
She sipped her coffee. She suggested, ”Okay, let's a.s.sume a.s.sume it was murder. I think we're both leaning that way. Procedurally, approach it like a standard homicide case.” it was murder. I think we're both leaning that way. Procedurally, approach it like a standard homicide case.”
”Good idea.”
”Why don't we start with suspects?”
”Okay. I think there are lots of people who wanted Daniels's mouth sealed. People here, perhaps, Americans who are worried about the political fallout and/or the damage to their careers if he spilled the beans to a congressional committee. So that includes the people he worked with, and the people he worked for, up to and including the Secretary of Defense and the President of the United States.”
She nodded.
I continued, ”Possibly, there were some Iraqis who wanted him dead. And--”
”Can't you be more specific?”
”Well . . . there are some Iraqis who might carry a grudge because our friend played a heavy role in persuading the President to invade their country. Small-minded, of course--but people can be petty. Or maybe Charabi, or some of his a.s.sociates, wanted to keep him from exposing some nasty secrets.”
”This is pretty open-ended, isn't it?”
”Not yet. We're only at about thirty million suspects. Don't rule out enemies with more intimate motives--teed-off girlfriends, angry husbands whose wives Cliff may have been popping, a jealous ex-wife, a greedy brother who stands to inherit the full family fortune, or--”
”Okay--thank you. I think that covers the range.”
”No it doesn't. The range is everything you expect, and everything you don't.” In fact, I once prosecuted a murder that turned out to be over a pair of running shoes. Premeditated murder, too. The victim's parents were in the courtroom, and I'll never forget the shattered looks on their faces when they learned their son took three bullets in the gut over a pair of hundred-dollar athletic shoes that in six months would be vogued-out, worn-out garbage. The reasons people kill other people are almost endless, sometimes picayune, and often ridiculous. I looked at Bian and said, ”Killers have limitless imaginations. Don't narrow yours.”
”I've got it,” she said. ”Forget the suspect angle. Let's try reconstruction.”
”Good decision.”
”I'll raise the facts we know. You suggest the hypotheses.”
”Bad decision. Why don't I ask? You're the cop.”
”It was was my idea.” She punched my arm. ”Besides, lawyers are more creative bulls.h.i.+tters.” my idea.” She punched my arm. ”Besides, lawyers are more creative bulls.h.i.+tters.”
Right.
After a moment, she said, ”There was no sign of burglary. What does this suggest?”
”That Daniels let the murderer into his apartment, suggesting further that this was someone he knew. Or the murderer had a key, suggesting someone he knew even better. Or the murderer was an expert lock picker. Or Daniels's lock malfunctioned.”
”The lock works. After I left you in the bedroom, I checked.”
”Between ratting me out, you found time to inspect the lock?”
”Oh, get over it.”
”I did. You made up for it.”
”How's that?”
”You could have informed Waterbury that I entered Daniels's apartment with a false ID. But you didn't. Or you could have contradicted me and confirmed that I already suspected that Daniels's briefcase contained evidence. Again, you didn't.”
She nodded but made no reply.
I looked her in the eye. ”Why didn't you?”
”What would be the point?”
”That's what I'm asking.” After a moment, I again asked, ”Why?”
Instead of replying, she asked me, ”Why do you you think?” think?”
”I think you don't like or trust your boss.”