Beyond Suspicion

The anchorman jumped in. “Is there any indication who may be charged and what the charges may be?”

“That information has yet to be released. But again, the operative word here is ‘indictments,’ plural, not just the indictment of a single suspect. Sources tell us that this could turn into a case of alleged murder-for-hire. Right now, the spotlight is on Jack Swyteck and his former client, Theo Knight. Mr. Knight has a long criminal record and even spent four years on Florida’s death row for the murder of a nineteen-year-old convenience store clerk before being released on a legal technicality.”

“Technicality?” said Jack, groaning. “The man was i

Cindy gave him a soulful look, as if she fully understood the telling nature of the media’s negative spin on Theo’s belated vindication. It would probably be the same for Jack. In the court of public opinion, it didn’t matter what happened from here on out. The stigma would always be there.

Jack switched stations and caught the tail end of the anchorwoman’s report on Eyewitness News: “Repeated calls to Mr. Swyteck this afternoon went unanswered, but I understand that Eyewitness News reporter Peter Rollings has just managed to catch up with his famous father, former Florida governor Harold Swyteck, on Ajax Mountain in Aspen, Colorado, where he and the former first lady are enjoying a ski vacation.”

“What the heck?” said Jack.

The screen flashed to a snow-covered man on the side of a steep mountain. It was a blizzard, nearly white-out conditions. Jack watched his father stumble off the chair lift, practically assaulted by some guy in a ski mask who was chasing him with a microphone.

“Governor! Governor Swyteck!”

Harry Swyteck looked back, obviously confused, one ski in the air in a momentary loss of balance, poles flailing like a broken windmill. He finally caught his balance, and momentum carried him down the slope.

The shivering reporter looked back toward the camera and said, “Well, looks like the former governor won’t speak to us, either.”

Jack hit the off button. “I can’t watch this.”

The phone rang. For an instant, Jack was sure that his father was calling from deep in some snow bank to ask “What the hell did you do this time, son?” The Caller ID display told him otherwise. Jack hadn’t been answering all afternoon, but this time it was Rosa.

“Well, the wolves are out,” she said.

“I saw.”

“Your old man should take up hot-dog skiing. He must have skidded at least fifty yards on one ski before sailing down that mountain.”

“That’s not fu

“None of this is. That’s why I called. I want to meet with both you and Theo. Tonight.”

“Where?”

“I’m home already, so let’s do it here.”

“How soon?”

“As soon as you can get your buddy over here. We need to get to Theo before the prosecutor does.”

“You don’t seriously think that Theo would cut a deal with Jancowitz, do you?”

“You just heard the news as plainly as I did. Theo is targeted as the gunman in a murder-for-hire scheme. It’s standard operating procedure for a prosecutor in a case like this: You get the gunman to flip in order to nail the guy who hired him.”

“I agree that we should meet, but you need to understand. I didn’t hire Theo to do anything. And even if I had, Theo would never testify against me. I’m the guy who got him off death row.”

“Let me ask you something, Jack. How many years did Theo spend on death row?”

“Four.”

“Now answer me this: You think he wants to go back?”

Jack paused, and he didn’t like the direction his thoughts were taking him. “I’ll see you in an hour. Theo and I both will be there. Together. I guarantee it.”

49

•

Katrina picked at the peas in her microwaved-di

It was time to call Sam Drayton.

Rarely did she make a call directly to the lead prosecutor, but this was no time to get caught up in Justice Department bureaucracy. In less than five minutes she reached the 7-Eleven on Bird Road. She jumped out of her car, hurried past the homeless guy sleeping on the curb, and called Drayton from the outside pay phone.

“Moon over Miami,” she said into the telephone. It was the code phrase that would immediately convey to him that she was talking of her own free will, not with a mobster’s gun to her head.

“What’s up, Katrina?”

“Swyteck and his friend Theo are all over the local news tonight. Story has it that they’re going to be indicted in a murder-for-hire scheme.”

“Is that so?”

“As if you didn’t know.”

“I’m in Virginia. How would I know?”

The homeless guy had his hand out. Katrina gave him a quarter and waved him away. “Look, if Swyteck and his friend are going to be indicted, that’s fine. That’s the way the system works. But these leaks aren’t fair.”

“I can’t control what comes out of the state attorney’s office.”

“Like hell. You asked Jancowitz to leak it, didn’t you?”

“Grand-jury investigations are secret by law. That’s a pretty serious accusation.”

“Two days ago, after Swyteck paid me a visit at the blood unit, I called and told you I needed him and Theo Knight out of my hair. Suddenly it’s all over the news that they’re about to be indicted in a murder conspiracy. You expect me to believe that a leak like that one is just a coincidence?”

“Totally.”

“Stop being cute. Swyteck’s bad enough. But do you know what it means to a guy like Theo Knight to have the word on the street that he’s a grand-jury target on a murder charge?”

“I told you, I can’t control what Jancowitz does.”

“Don’t you understand? Theo sat across the table from my boss at the Brown Bear and talked viatical business. He made it clear that he’s figured out the money-laundering scheme. Vladimir isn’t going to let a guy like that just sit around peacefully under the threat of an indictment. He’ll put a bullet in his brain before he can cut a deal with the prosecutor and tell everything he knows about the money-laundering operation.”

“I can’t control what the Russian mob does.”

“Is that all you can say, that everything’s out of your control?”

“I can’t control the things I can’t control.”

“Then maybe you can’t control me, either.”

“Watch yourself, Katrina. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.”

“You’ve got nothing on me. I went to the U.S. attorney’s office the minute I discovered that my employer might be doing something illegal. I volunteered for this undercover work because I wanted to nail these bastards worse than you did.”

“Ah, yes. Katrina the Whistleblower.”

“It’s true. I was squeaky clean coming in.”

“You’re not squeaky clean anymore, honey. You turn against me, I’ll turn against you. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve been part of an illegal operation for the past eight months.”

“You son of a bitch. You just see this as a cost of doing business, don’t you? If someone gets in your way, you just push them aside for good.”

“I’m simply trying to preserve the integrity of an eight-month investigation that has cost the U.S. government over a million dollars.”

“And a bullet in the back of Theo Knight’s head is a small price to pay. Is that it?”

“Listen, lady. We wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place if you hadn’t fumbled around in the dark and picked up the wrong cell phone.”

“Actually, we wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn’t told me to beat the holy crap out of Jack Swyteck for treading too close to your blessed investigation.”