“I am, on the authority of the President of these United States, assuming command of the investigation. I will assign tasks to each of you, and I will expect you, individually and collectively, to carry out this work with all the diligence and expertise that is available to you. I expect you to give this your total attention. A few of you, quite naturally, will be required to perform the ordinary duties of your respective jurisdictions and agencies. When you are given such tasks, I expect your full cooperation. This investigation is too important to allow the intrusion of personalities or politics into any of the decisions. Those of you who must perform other duties should do so with the understanding that your cooperation and your devotion to matters that may at the time seem insignificant are necessary so that others can labor on a full-time basis toward the discovery and apprehension of whoever it was who planned the recent attack on the commissioner and his wife.
“I want you to know that I personally will not rest until these people, every one of them who may have been involved, have been caught, convicted, and sentenced to the fullest extent of the law. I trust that everyone else in this room feels the same. If you do not, please have the courtesy to speak up now. I want no shirkers on this team, gentlemen. I expect every man among you to commit himself to his best efforts, without regard to personalities or favoritism. Is there anyone here who is not willing to make this commitment? Anyone at all? Speak now, please, if you want out.”
Longarm would have been damned well amazed if anyone had asked out. And, of course, no one did—as the interim U.S. attorney undoubtedly had expected. These men wouldn’t have come if they and their bosses hadn’t been personally and completely pissed off by the cowardly bomb attack. Those of them that still had bosses, that is.
Which, dammit, left out Longarm and Henry and all the other deputies who’d worked under Billy Vail’s leadership. It looked like for the time being they didn’t have a boss and weren’t fixing to get a new one.
Still, that was all right. The new broom, whoever he turned out to be, might well want to sweep the office clean of old associations and old loyalties. The next U.S. marshal could turn out to be a politician who would want his own people on the payroll. And Custis Long couldn’t have borne the thought right now of not being a part of the investigation into Billy’s death. He could live with the idea of being fired so some political ass-kisser could replace him. Hell, he’d been fired from jobs before. But he couldn’t—wouldn’t—accept it until or unless the person or persons responsible for that bombing were behind bars or, better yet, dead and cooling in the hard, heartless ground.
“Give me your best efforts,” Cotton was saying, “and we will all work together to find these people and bring them to justice. Give me your best efforts, and together we will accomplish that worthy task. Give me your best efforts, each and every one, I beg you.” Cotton paused again. “Now, if you will please be patient with me, I have made up a list of assignments for those I knew would be here. I will read the names off and tell you which room to report to to be briefed on what will be expected of you. Anyone left when I have completed the list—that is to say, those from neighboring jurisdictions who I may not have anticipated seeing today—will please wait in this room until the others have left. Then I will ask you to register your name, affiliation, and areas of expertise with my clerk Ralph Hodges. Is that clear? Fine. First, then, the late marshal’s deputies. You can all report to the marshal’s office. Someone from my staff will join you there in very short order with your specific assignments. All right? Next, you gentlemen representing the Denver police department and Denver County sheriff’s office. I would like you to assemble-“
Longarm had already turned away and was pushing his way through the crowd. Henry was close on his heels as Longarm forced a path for both of them, Smiley and Dutch behind Henry, and the other familiar faces converging now on the door leading out of the U.S. attorney’s office.
Jesus, Longarm thought, with this many men to work on the case it should be a snap. They’d just surround Colorado, put every man jack in the state into one big herd, and then start tossing out whoever wasn’t guilty. Then they could hang whoever was left in the middle.
Helluva idea, he told himself as he slipped out into the cooler and much fresher air in the hallway of the Federal Building. He was already reaching for a cheroot and match. He figured he needed a smoke to help clear his head after all the pushing and shoving inside that packed room.
But overall, he thought, things were looking pretty good for the lawmen and perilous for the sons of bitches. With this many people on the job and some good solid backing from the powers that be, they should be able to shake the bastards out of the weeds however carefully they might have gone to ground.
Yeah, Longarm decided as he scratched the match head and applied the resulting flame to the tip of his cigar, things were looking pretty good, everything considered.
Chapter 5
“That’s just about the dumbest idea I ever heard!” Longarm yelped, on his feet and listening to the words come out of his mouth before he had time to think about it.
Not that he likely would have said anything different if he had taken time for thought. What he’d said was the truth plain and simple: This plan was the dumbest damn thing he’d ever in his life heard.
The man at the front of the room, a lower-level legal assistant from the U.S. attorney’s office named Carl Rakestrom, looked like he wanted to crawl underneath the desk. Hell, Longarm would’ve approved if he did.
“Look, I … I’m just following orders. You know?”
“What I know, dammit, is that this idea is stupid. Dumb. Idiotic. How many ways can I say it?” Longarm snapped at him.
“We all just have to-“
“Like hell we all have to follow orders,” Longarm said, cutting Rakestrom off. “Not stupid orders like this. My God, man. You want to put all us old, experienced people on bullshit routine assignments when there’s important work to be done? That’s crazy, that’s what it is.”
Longarm could hear a chorus of agreement coming in mumbled undertones from some of the others in the room, notably from Dutch and Henry and Smiley.
“Perhaps I didn’t explain it fully,” Rakestrom said. The fellow looked quite thoroughly miserable. And so he damn well ought to, Longarm thought, with this sort of moronic message to deliver.
“The thing is,” Rakestrom said, trying to back up and start over, “there is no one here to appoint an interim successor to Marshal Vail. Normally that would be the prerogative of the U.S. attorney. But with him gone too, well, there simply isn’t anyone capable of making that appointment. Not until Washington comes up with proper instructions. So in the meantime, the marshal’s office and all you people will have to work under the direction of Acting U.S. Attorney Cotton.
“And it is his judgment, acting with the advice of others in the office and with certain suggestions from the Secret Service people, that we use you experienced deputies to maintain the normal, everyday functions of the U.S. marshal’s office. You know. The serving of writs and warrants, transportation of prisoners, like that. The overall investigation into the slayings of Commissioner Troutman and the others will be under the direct supervisory control of the Secret Service anyway—at the direct order of the president, or so I understand—and they are willing to accept the services of your less-experienced people to assist them in the field.” Rakestrom spread his hands and gave Longarm a look of apology, as if perhaps he too thought the decision stupid—but out of his control nonetheless.