Страница 15 из 111
Cavanaugh leaned forward. "Is he answering questions?"
"It's a hard to get answers from a corpse. Somebody shot him four times in the face."
Cavanaugh took a moment to adjust to that, finally saying, "That explains the four pistol shots we heard."
"Fragmentation-type ammunition. Mutilated his features enough that even people who knew him would have trouble identifying him. His teeth were so damaged that comparing them to dental records will be useless. The question is, who did that to him?"
Cavanaugh thought about it. "The only available candidate is someone on the assault team. But that doesn't make sense. Did he have ID?"
"No."
"Did you send his fingerprints to the FBI?"
"Couldn't. The tips of his fingers were cut off."
Cavanaugh took a longer time to adjust to that.
"The four men you killed," Garth said.
"Was forced to kill."
"Their fingerprints got a really quick response. Those men were fresh out of prison. Within the past six weeks."
"Six weeks?"
"I can't imagine how they came to be together. They served time in four different penitentiaries. Pe
Cavanaugh studied them, hoping, but finally had to say, "No." He grasped at a thought. "Four different prisons? They must have known each other before they went to those prisons."
"Not according to their criminal records. There's no indication they ever crossed paths before. But they did have one thing in common. Armed robbery. Gang shootings. Rape. These were really violent guys."
"Before everything started, I think I saw them and the rest of their friends at the Moose Junction gas station." Cavanaugh said. "They didn't handle themselves like street criminals. They weren't wired and jittery and unfocused. These guys had stillness and control. They looked like operators."
"But their records indicate they were street criminals. So how, all of a sudden, did they get to be . . . 'Operators' you called them? Unusual word. I don't often hear it. That car of yours. When I got a close look at what was left of it, I found bullet-resistant windows, armor plating, tires within tires . . . Tell me again what you used to do for a living."
"I was in the security business."
"The bodyguards I see around here--"
Cavanaugh hated the word.
"--are usually hired by entertainers and sports stars on vacation. Mostly for show in a quiet community like this. To remind us how important they are. But you never fit the profile of the thugs some of those celebrities use for bodyguards."
"I'm an unassuming guy."
"Obviously, you don't like being called a 'bodyguard'."
No answer.
"Are you holding back anything I need to know?"
Cavanaugh hesitated. "Yes. I was what's called a protector. I worked for an international security firm called Global Protective Services. I used the professional alias of 'Cavanaugh'."
"Professional alias?"
"I saved the lives of people who show up on CNN and the front pages of the Washington Post and Wall Street Journal. These are the kind of people who need the reassurance of knowing they can absolutely trust me with sensitive information, that nobody'll come around later and persuade me to answer questions about them."
"You mean like the police asking questions?"
"My former clients will stonewall you."
"It's been tried."
"And they'll never trust me again."
"Again? I got the impression you'd retired."
"My retirement just ended."
"Is that another way of saying you intend to run your own investigation?"
"If a former client decided that he or she can't let me live with certain information, I have ways to find out."
"You're not a law enforcement officer. Keep that in mind."
"I will."
"I'm serious. I wouldn't want to see you in front of two grand juries. 'Cavanaugh.'" Garth tested the sound of the name.
"The idea was to keep my private life and my professional life separate."
"Looks like it didn't work."
Chapter 4.
A state trooper came over when Garth escorted Cavanaugh from the interview room.
"Did you find any of them?" Garth asked.
The trooper looked at Garth, as if to suggest that they speak in private.
"It's okay. You can talk in front of him."
In the background, Jamie and William listened to the trooper's reply.
"No sign of the shooters."
"They were dressed as campers," Cavanaugh said.
"Which makes them fairly invisible around here," Garth pointed out. "Even so, how do you suppose they got out of the area near your property so fast?"
"When you drove me from the ranch, I noticed that the van that had blocked the lane was gone. Did any of your team move it?"
The trooper shook his head no.
"Some of the shooters probably drove it away. The tires were low from weight in the back, but even so, they could have driven it. As for the rest, I'm guessing a couple of cars picked them up as they emerged from the trees. Using two-way radios, they could have easily coordinated it so they didn't show themselves if there were police cars or emergency vehicles in sight. Plus, you didn't know what you were dealing with and didn't start searching until thirty minutes after the explosion. Plenty of time to get away. They could have been in Jackson by then."
Another trooper entered the room. "A lot of reporters and a TV crew in the parking lot."
"Swell," Garth said.
"We can't assume they're all legitimate," Cavanaugh warned. "That hit team isn't going to fade away. They'll watch the building. They'll try to follow us when we leave."
"Spend the night here."
"There's nothing I'd rather do. But in the morning, we'll still have the same problem. Not to mention, they'll be organized by then. No, the best time to leave is when they least expect it. As soon as possible."
"How? And where will you go? What will you use for transportation?"
"I already made the arrangements," Jamie said.
Chapter 5.