“Actually,” said Gurney, “it seems like a pretty good idea at the moment—a bit safer, anyway.”
“Jeez, Dad, you really think something bad’s going to happen here?”
“I think the chance is very, very slight. But I wouldn’t want you to be exposed to it.”
“What about you?” It was Madeleine’s question, repeated in the same tone.
“It’s part of the job—part of what I signed on for when I agreed to help with the case.”
“Is there anything I can do for you?”
“No, son, there isn’t anything right now. But thank you.”
“Okay,” he said doubtfully. For a minute he looked lost, as if hoping for some other option, some other plan of action, to occur to him.
Gurney said nothing, just waited.
“Okay,” Kyle repeated. “Let me get some of my things and I’ll be on my way. When I get to Syracuse I’ll check in with you.” He retreated from the den with a worried frown.
A musical computer tone announced the start of Gurney’s eight a.m. video call.
Chapter 46. The Spalter Brothers
A medium shot of a man sitting in a comfortable-looking armchair filled most of the laptop screen. Gurney recognized Jonah Spalter from his photograph on the Cyberspace Cathedral website. He was illuminated clearly, expertly, with no extraneous elements in the video framing to distract from the strong bone structure of his face. His expression was one of practiced calm seasoned with mild concern. He was gazing directly into the camera with the effect of gazing directly into Gurney’s eyes.
“Hello, David. I’m Jonah.” If his voice were a color, it would have been a pastel. “Is it all right if I call you David? Or would you prefer Detective Gurney?”
“David is fine. Thank you for getting in touch with me.”
There was a tiny nod, a tiny smile, the hint of a social worker’s concern in the eyes. “Your email had an urgent tone, along with some rather alarming phrases. How can I help you?”
“How much do you know about the effort to get your sister-in-law’s conviction overturned?”
“I know that the effort resulted in her lead attorney being killed, along with six of his neighbors.”
“Anything else?”
“I know that Mr. Bincher had made some serious allegations of police corruption. Your email to me also referred to corruption, as well as ‘family dynamics.’ That could mean just about anything. Perhaps you could explain it.”
“It’s an area that the official investigation is likely to pursue.”
“Official investigation?”
“Lex Bincher’s murder will force BCI to take a new look at your brother’s murder. Not only BCI, but probably the AG’s office as well, since the corruption charges in Kay’s appeal are aimed at BCI. At that point, we’ll be turning over the new evidence we’ve uncovered—evidence indicating that Kay was framed. So, whichever agencies are involved, they’ll be asking who, besides Kay, stood to benefit from Carl’s death.”
“Well,” said Jonah, with wide-eyed chagrin, “that would certainly include me.”
“Is it true that you and your brother didn’t get along?”
“Didn’t get along?” He laughed softly, ruefully. “That would be an understatement.” He closed his eyes for a moment, shaking his head, as though overwhelmed by the thoughts this subject raised. When he spoke again his tone was sharper. “Do you know where I am right now?”
“I have no idea.”
“No one does. That’s the point.”
“What point?”
“Carl and I never did get along. When we were younger it didn’t matter that much. He had his friends and I had mine. We went our own ways. Then, as you may know—it’s no secret—our father yoked us together in the monstrosity known as Spalter Realty. That’s when ‘not getting along’ turned into something poisonous. When I was forced to work with Carl on a daily basis … I realized I was dealing with something more than a difficult brother. I was dealing with a monster.” Jonah paused, as if to give that term room to expand in Gurney’s imagination.
It sounded to Gurney like a speech Jonah might have delivered before—an oft-repeated explanation of a terrible relationship.
“I watched Carl evolve from a selfish, aggressive businessman into a complete sociopath. As his political ambition grew, on the outside he became more charming, more magnetic, more charismatic. On the inside, he was rotting away to nothing—a black hole of greed and ambition. In biblical terms, he was the ultimate ‘whitewashed sepulchre.’ He got in bed with like-minded people. Ruthless people. Major criminals. Mob figures like Donny Angel. Murderers. Carl wanted to pull enormous amounts of money out of Spalter Realty to finance his megalomaniac schemes with those people, as well as his supremely hypocritical gubernatorial candidacy. He kept pressuring me to agree to unethical transactions that I wouldn’t—couldn’t—agree to. ‘Ethics,’ ‘morality,’ ‘legality’—none of those words meant anything to him. He began to frighten me. Actually, that’s not a strong enough word. The truth is, he terrified me. I came to believe there was nothing—nothing—he wouldn’t do to get what he wanted. Sometimes … the look in his eyes … it was positively satanic. As though all the evil in the world were concentrated in that gaze.”
“How did you deal with it?”
“Deal with it?” Again, the small smile and rueful laugh, followed by a lowered voice, almost confessional. “I ran away.”
“How?”
“I kept moving. Literally moving. One of the blessings of current technology is that you can do just about anything from anywhere. I bought a motor home, outfitted it with the appropriate communications equipment, and made it the rolling headquarters of the Cyberspace Cathedral. A process in which I have come to see the hand of Providence. Good can come out of evil, if good is our objective.”
“The good in this case being …?”
“Having no fixed geographical location, of being in a sense nowhere. My sole location has become the Internet, and the Internet is everywhere. Which has turned out to be the ideal ‘place’ for the Cathedral. The ubiquitous, worldwide Cyberspace Cathedral. Do you see what I mean, David? The need to get away from my brother and his deadly associates has been transformed into a gift. God does indeed work in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform. This is a truth we encounter again and again. All that is required is an open mind and an open heart.” Jonah was looking increasingly radiant.
Gurney wondered if a delicate shift had been made in the lighting. He felt the urge to dull the glow. “Then you got a second gift, a large one, with Carl’s death.”
Jonah’s smile grew cooler. “That’s true. Once more, out of evil came good.”
“Apparently, quite a lot of good. I’ve heard that Spalter Realty’s assets are worth over fifty million dollars. Is that true?”
The man’s forehead frowned while his mouth continued to smile. “In today’s market, it’s impossible to say.” He paused, shrugged. “But I suppose, give or take a significant amount, it’s as good as any other guess.”
“Is it true that before Carl’s death you couldn’t touch that money, but now it all goes to you?”
“Nominally to me, but ultimately to the Cathedral. I’m merely a conduit. The Cathedral is of supreme importance. It’s far more important than any individual. The work of the Cathedral is the only thing that matters. The only thing.”
Gurney wondered if he was hearing a not-so-subtle threat in this emphatic priority. Rather than take that issue head-on, however, he decided to change direction. “Were you surprised by Carl’s murder?”