The Bricklayer - Boyd Noah - Страница 9

The director snorted a laugh. “So far it’s working.”

Kaulcrick said, “This could have been Bertok’s operation from the beginning. With him and the money disappearing together, it would be shortsighted not to consider the possibility.”

“If it is Bertok, why would he use a gun that is so recognizable as FBI issue?” Kate asked her boss.

“Nothing would cover his tracks better if he’s caught and has to go to trial. He could then say, ‘With a plan this well thought out, would I be stupid enough to use an FBI-type service weapon? Somebody wants you to think it’s an agent who has done this.’ If we’re having these doubts, a jury certainly would. And then, at just the right moment, he would stand up and surrender his service weapon. ‘Here’s my issued handgun—check the serial number and test-fire it.’ It would destroy the prosecution’s case. Then he would only be looking at prison time for the embezzlement of two million dollars, which, with any reimbursement, carries a slap on the wrist compared to four murders.”

“Assuming that’s true, then what did he shoot the victims with?” the director said.

“A second, unregistered Glock 22,” Kaulcrick answered quickly, as if he had expected the question.

“Do we know if he owns more than one gun?” the director asked.

“I checked his property card, and no, he doesn’t,” Kate said. “Not that he’s told the Bureau about.”

“I don’t know, Don. If he has the money, then why this last murder?” the director asked.

“Sir, if all this was part of a planned defense, another killing would be proof positive that he had nothing to do with the murders. He just boogied with the cash, so the real killers had no choice but to find another victim and make a new demand.”

The director collapsed back into his chair. “Anyone want my job?”

After a few seconds, Kaulcrick said, “I got something from the Chicago office this morning that might take your mind off this for a few minutes. May I?”

“Please.”

Kaulcrick went over to a large television that sat on a corner table of the office and inserted a DVD. “I don’t know if either of you saw this on the national news a couple of weeks ago.”

A reporter came on the screen, microphone in hand, and started describing a hostage situation taking place at a suburban Chicago bank. Suddenly, the camera zoomed in on the bank’s front door. A terrified woman opened it, and a gunman could be seen behind her shielding himself, his weapon pressed against the side of her head. The reporter said, “It looks like one of the gunmen is trying to negotiate some sort of deal.” Just as the robber finished his demands and closed the door, one of the bank’s front windows exploded as a man came crashing through it. He skidded across the sidewalk and lay unconscious.

The cameraman centered the shot on the body lying in front of the bank, and after another fifteen seconds, a second robber exploded through the adjoining window, landing on the concrete walk, dazed and unarmed. Immediately, customers and employees ran out of the front door as the police rushed forward to handcuff the two men. The screen went black.

“What happened?” Lasker asked.

“According to the report, witnesses said a customer, waiting until the two robbers were separated, disarmed them one at a time and then threw each of them through the windows.”

“Who was it?”

“That is the strangest part to the story. No one knows. Whoever it was exited with the other customers and disappeared into the crowd.”

“What?” the director said.

“The police and the media have been putting out pleas for him to call in, but so far nothing.”

“What would make someone walk away from something that extraordinary?”

“I have no idea,” Kaulcrick said. “Want to see how he did it?”

“Absolutely.”

“Chicago sent me the surveillance videos from inside the bank.” Kaulcrick shoved in another DVD. “This composite was put together from three different cameras. It starts with the first gunman being overpowered.” He hit the Play button and it showed the bank lobby with customers scattered facedown on the floor. “See this hand here?” He pointed at the corner of the screen. “That belongs to our boy. Keep an eye on it.”

“What’s that next to it?” Kate asked.

“A watercooler. Keep an eye on that, too.”

Kaulcrick pressed a button on the remote and the disk slowed to half speed. As the images rolled by, the hand on the floor reached up and took the bottle from the watercooler as its owner pulled himself from the floor. His grainy face came into view. He placed a hand on each end of the bottle, holding it in front of his chest just as the gunman realized he was up off the floor and turned toward him. The robber yelled something, but the man continued to move toward him, extending the bottle away from his chest and in line with the muzzle of the gun. The robber fired and the impact of the bullet ripped the bottle from the man’s hands. Almost simultaneously, the man grabbed the barrel of the gun and twisted it outward in a move that Kaulcrick and Kate recognized as one they had practiced dozens of times during defensive tactics training. Once he finished twisting the weapon from the robber’s hand, the robber swung at him, and the man used the gun to strike him in the head. Then, with relative ease, he hurled him through the glass window and immediately ran to the wall that separated the front door from the rest of the bank’s interior.

“This is from a second camera,” Kaulcrick said. The TV screen was filled with static for a second; then, from a different angle, the female hostage who had been held at the front door during the television report came around the corner, followed by the second gunman. The unknown man’s hand flashed forward and shoved his weapon against the robber’s neck. After a short hesitation, the bank robber dropped his gun, and when the man stooped to pick it up, he ran. But the man took a few quick steps and caught him immediately.

The robber struck him in the face to no effect. Before the robber could hit him again, the man punched him in the face, buckling his legs. Then the man turned and launched him through the second window. Looking up and realizing everything was being caught on camera, the man turned his head away and started herding the hostages out the door.

While the director nodded his head enthusiastically, Kate sat pensively. Noticing her lack of enthusiasm, he said, “Not impressed, Kate?”

She continued to look at the screen, which was again filled with static. “No, it’s not that….” She didn’t finish her thought.

Lasker asked, “How’d he know there was enough water in the bottle to stop a bullet?”

Kaulcrick said, “I’m guessing he didn’t.”

“Why would someone do something like that?”

“Apparently, he has a screw loose.”

“And they haven’t found out who he is yet?” Lasker said.

“No. Chicago wants to release this to the local media. That’s why they sent it to me, for authorization.”

“Let me know who he is when he’s identified. I’d be interested to know why he’s so camera shy.”

Kate said, “I think I know who he is.”

“You do?” The director turned toward her.

“Sir, you haven’t had the hand-to-hand training we have, but the way he took the gun from the first robber is an FBI move, one we have all practiced many times. That’s what tipped me off. His hair’s a little lighter now, but I think it’s a former agent named Steve Vail. I was a security supervisor in Detroit for two years, and Vail was assigned there. Not on my squad, on the fugitive squad. And I’m pretty sure he was originally from Chicago.”

“Former?”

“He was fired.”

“Not given the option to resign?”

“They gave him the choice, but he refused to respond even though he knew he would be fired.”

“So he could sue?”

Kate gave a quick, full-throated laugh. “I guess I’m not giving you a very clear picture of him. You’re trying to figure him out by the experiences you’ve had with others. No, he’s…probably the best word—the kindest word—is recalcitrant.”