“So you decided to join the hunt,” Quinn said, flashed a smile at Evelyn. “Getting a little too exciting to ignore? I bet-Ah, wait. The anonymous ‘concerned party’ who’s paying our wages. Guess I should say thank you.”
Evelyn said nothing, but from the look that crossed her face, she had no idea what Quinn was talking about. I’d never suspected Evelyn was the person funding the job-she wouldn’t hire a group of hitmen for a nonprofit expedition. But if it wasn’t her…
“Stop squirming,” Jack said. “Gotta get this fastened.”
Quinn sat on the sofa. “So Dee lured Wilkes into a showdown?” He grinned my way. “Way to go.”
Jack shot him a look, but Quinn continued, “You went mano a mano with the infamous Helter Skelter killer. The first victim who fought back. Did he say anything? Too busy getting his heart out of his throat, I bet.”
Jack scooped up the bloodied cloths, wrapped them in the empty bag for later disposal and took them back to his room. I crouched to clean up the first-aid supplies. Quinn slid down beside me to help. As he leaned over for the scissors he whispered, “I’m jealous.” I laughed. We both reached for the spare tape roll. I got to it first, but he pretended not to notice and grabbed for it, ending up with my wrist instead. A quick grin and quicker squeeze, and he released me.
“You’ll have to tell me all about it later,” he said.
I smiled. “We’ll see.”
As I straightened, I caught Evelyn watching us.
“When Jack called us in, he said you have a plan,” Felix said. “Care to share?”
Felix liked the plan. Quinn wasn’t so sure. I understood his reticence. What he and I knew, and the others didn’t, was that we were expecting a federal agent to do something no agent should ever consider. However often one might see movie cops playing lone cowboys, it didn’t work that way in real life. You’re trained to be a team player, and there are plenty of checks and balances to make sure you stay that way-like Quinn having to provide a hotel name and phone number while on vacation.
But, as Quinn conceded, if there was a guy who might go for this, it was Martin Dubois. He amended the plan somewhat, building in protections that might sway Dubois, make him feel safer. Even then he warned that we were taking a chance-that Dubois wouldn’t agree, would double-cross us, would back out at the last moment. But we knew that. All we could do was guard against it.
Quinn left to set his part into motion. While he was gone, Evelyn, Jack and Felix compared notes on Wilkes, as they remembered him. Not a conversation I could join, so after twenty minutes I wandered off to the other side of the room to check out the room service menu. Last thing I’d eaten was a sub on the drive to the parade.
“Hungry?” asked a voice at my shoulder. Quinn. “I’ll bet you are. Confront the man the whole country is searching for, and no one even buys you dinner.”
“Did everything go okay?” I asked.
“It’s started. Now we have to wait for a response. Don’t worry. If what I hear about Dubois is right, he’ll at least hear us out.”
“Good.”
Quinn glanced over at Evelyn, Jack and Felix.
“They’re talking about Wilkes,” I said. “I can’t help them there.”
“Me neither.” He took the menu from me. “We can order from this if you’d like, but I saw a place down the road. What do you say I buy you dinner?”
“Sure,” I said.
I grabbed my wallet, shoes and jacket. As I got ready, I glanced Jack’s way, waiting for him to notice I was leaving, but he was engrossed in the conversation.
Quinn called out a “going to grab a bite,” and I thought I heard Evelyn respond, but he only closed the door and ushered me down the hall. If Evelyn or Jack had wanted to stop us, they could have made it to the door before the elevator arrived. No one did, so I took that as permission to leave.
FORTY-SIX
“You know you’re going to have to kill him,” Quinn said as he speared a chicken ball.
We were in Felix’s hotel room-a small one a few doors from ours. Jack might not have minded me going out to eat with Quinn, but I imagined he’d have something to say about our choice of dining area.
Our plans for the restaurant had gone south when we realized it closed at eleven, and we’d arrived at eleven-thirty. That left McDonald’s or a take-out Chinese place. I’d picked takeout, meaning we needed a place to eat. When Quinn suggested Felix’s room, with a hands-lifted “just to eat-no ulterior motives,” I’d agreed.
If Jack was right, the greatest danger I faced being alone with Quinn was that he’d rethink that “no ulterior motives” bit. That I could stop…if I wanted to. So far, he’d kept his word, lying on the opposite side of the bed, with boxes of food laid out between us, as we talked.
“You have to kill him,” Quinn said again when I didn’t answer. “If not you, then me or Jack, but someone has to. It has nothing to do with ‘the bastard deserves to die.’ Give me a choice, and I’d rather see him rot in jail than get a quick ticket out. Problem is, there’s no guarantee he’ll go to jail. You and I know that better than any of them.”
His eyes met mine and I knew he was searching for some look or reaction that would confirm a suspicion.
I wound up a forkful of noodles. “The justice system isn’t perfect. Everyone knows that.”
As I slurped noodles off my fork, Quinn caught my gaze and I let him have it, holding it for at least ten seconds. Finally, he let out a sigh, breath hissing through his teeth.
“Fine, so you’ve heard things can go wrong. Cops fuck up, lab fucks up, prosecutors fuck up, juries, judges…everyone’s human, and as hard as people try, sometimes they make mistakes. Wilkes’ll get himself a defense lawyer who’d put Manson himself back on the streets if it meant a new car for his mistress.”
I shrugged. “Everyone’s entitled to a fair trial and someone has to make sure they get it.”
“If the case even gets to trial. The way we’re stringing this thing together, even a pro bono suit could find grounds for dismissal.”
“Sure, but-”
“I’m not knocking the plan. I can’t think of an airtight way to do it, either. But it’s a problem, and the question is: what are you going to do about it?”
I put down my fork. “The question is: can I see a way around it? Do I have a problem with killing Wilkes? Of course not. But what’s more important to me is making sure everyone knows he’s been caught. If he just drops off the face of the earth, this won’t ever go away. The Feds will keep pouring money and man-hours into solving it. The newspapers will keep reminding people that it’s unsolved-in other words, that the Feds ‘fucked up.’ Every time a potential suspect turns up, you risk the public taking matters into their own hands. Sure, it’ll die down eventually, but you can bet that on every anniversary for the next decade, the media will bring it back up, reignite the fear. Then there’s the whole issue of copycats-nutcases thinking they can win instant infamy by pulling one hit and claiming the rest as their own.”
“I’m not saying we off him and dump the body. But what if we could toss Dubois a dead suspect instead of a live one?” When I didn’t respond, he added, “I know, it wouldn’t be as easy as it sounds, but take some time later and give it some thought. Run it by Evelyn and Jack. See what they think.”
“I will. And if we can’t come up with a way to kill him before we hand him over, we could arrange it afterward.” I looked over at Quinn. “I’m sure someone would be able to make sure Wilkes never sees the inside of a courtroom…someone who knows how to do such a thing.”
Quinn went still. “So Jack told you what I do?”
“Jack didn’t tell me a thing. He said it wasn’t his place. I had a hunch.”
“That obvious, huh?”