David Ellis - In the Company of Liars

Allison smiles sheepishly.

“Then we’ll whisk you out of there, on a covered gurney, hopefully before any press or local officials get to the scene. Within the hour, you’ll be sipping champagne in protective federal custody. Larry Evans will think he’s home free-that you’re dead with no questions asked-and he will complete his operation. And you will be totally safe.”

“Mrs. Pagone,” Harrick adds. “Larry Evans trusts the man in that photograph. He’ll believe he is hearing a murder, staged to look like a suicide. And when we come in the next morning, we’ll confirm it for him. There’s no way he’ll know the truth.”

“It’s not the first time we’ve staged a death,” McCoy adds. “The fact that Larry Evans will be listening in only makes it easier. We can use his bugging device against him.”

Allison raises her hands. “Fine. That’s fine.”

“So you’re clear on how this works,” McCoy asks.

Allison nods. “It’s a five-step plan.”

“Right. Step one?”

“Step one,” Allison echoes. “You’ll tell my lawyer, Paul, when it’s time to begin. Paul will get in touch with me and he’ll reference the murder weapon. That will tell me it’s time to begin.”

“Right.” McCoy looks at Paul. “Just say something like, ‘They still haven’t found the murder weapon.’ Something not too obvious.”

Paul nods.

“Then we get to step two,” Allison continues. “I will tell Mat, in my house, for Larry Evans to hear, precisely where I buried the murder weapon. Larry Evans will like that, because it adds something to the idea of my suicide. He will send that-that man in the photograph-to get the statuette, with the idea that he’ll put it beside me after I ‘kill myself.’ It is tantamount to a suicide note, a confession.”

“Exactly,” McCoy says. “But what you’re really doing is giving me the signal.”

“Right,” Allison agrees. “That’s step three. You will be watching the grocery store where I buried it. When you see that man in the photo retrieve the statuette from behind Countryside, you’ll know it’s time to work our plan.”

“Good,” McCoy says. “And step four?”

“Step four,” Allison sighs, “you will come to my house and introduce yourself to me as if we had never met. We will have a conversation for Larry Evans to hear. You will say you are investigating the bribery scandal. You will say that you are going to take a deal to Mat, that if he confesses, you’ll get the county attorney to spare me the death penalty.”

“Yes.”

“I will be distraught. Suicidal, I suppose. I will say things like, ‘My daughter is already losing one parent.’ And the obvious route for me to take-as someone who is looking at a surefire conviction and probably a death sentence-is just to take my own life, on my own terms.”

“Which is perfect, from the perspective of Larry Evans,” Harrick adds.

“And then,” Allison continues, “step five, I can expect a visit from that man in the photograph.”

McCoy brightens. “We’ll stage your death/suicide and get you somewhere safe.”

Paul Riley clears his throat. “There’s one wrinkle, folks.”

“A wrinkle,” Irv Shiels repeats.

“There’s a wrinkle?” McCoy asks.

“Yes,” Paul says. “We want this to happen very soon. We would like it to happen now-tomorrow, the next day-or at the latest, after she is charged. Your target date of mid-May is not acceptable.”

“It’s the only way,” McCoy says quickly. “We’ve told you that.”

It’s the only way because the scientist whom Larry Evans has compromised, Doctor Neil Lomas, apparently was extremely distraught about Sam Dillon’s death and has told Evans that he will cease working on the formula if anyone else is killed. Paul Riley is right, in theory. They should stage Allison Pagone’s “murder” very soon, a matter of days, and whisk her to safety. But reports of Allison’s death would be big news in town, news that would not escape the attention of Doctor Neil Lomas, and the Bureau needs Doctor Lomas to complete his formula. Their intelligence tells them that Ram Haroon will likely deliver this formula to one of the high-ranking members of the Liberation Front, and they need that to happen. They need Doctor Lomas happy and productive.

Which means Allison Pagone can’t “die” until the formula is completed, which is estimated at this point to be mid-May.

“We can’t give on that,” Irving Shiels says, standing in the corner in that military stance he so often assumes. “If we do this with Mrs. Pagone now, there’s no point in doing it at all. It has to be when we say, and it looks like mid-May.”

Allison Pagone looks at Paul Riley. McCoy expects them to leave the office and confer, but surely they’ve already discussed this. McCoy has never left any room for doubt on this point.

“Okay,” Allison says to Irv Shiels. “I’ll do mid-May, or whenever. Whenever you say. Whenever Paul comes to me with the talk about the ‘murder weapon.’ ”

McCoy sits back in her chair, looks at her boss, Shiels, who stands with arms folded, scowling. Scowling, but content. They have their deal.

“Your ex-husband, Mat, obviously will know about this,” Harrick says. “He will know about his immunity deal, and he will be the one who plays the partner in these staged conversations you will be having in your house for Larry Evans. You need someone to say these things to, and Mat makes sense. Your daughter, Jessica, remains in the dark.”

“Yes.” Allison shakes her head too eagerly. “She will not know the details.”

A pause. Everyone looks at one another.

“We have a tentative agreement, then,” Paul Riley says. “This is-I’ve only had today to digest an awful lot of information.”

“Understood,” Irv Shiels says. “But we don’t have much time. We would assume that Mrs. Pagone will be questioned very, very soon. And things will start moving against her very quickly.”

“You made sure of that,” McCoy says to Allison.

“We’ll get back to you tomorrow, when we see it in writing,” Allison says. “But as long as you accept my terms, I’m in.”

Irv Shiels is fuming. The others have left, leaving McCoy and Harrick to bear the brunt of his frustration.

“This woman,” Shiels says. “She’s well known?”

“Yes, sir,” McCoy says. “I read one of her novels. I think it was a bestseller.”

“That’s wonderful. Jesus H. So this will be a big story.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sir.” Harrick clears his throat. “Sir,” he says, “we should bury this thing. Talk to the county attorney. Tell them to hold a press conference, say the murder of Sam Dillon is unsolved, and make Larry Evans feel safe. That makes more sense than going through with this whole charade.”

Shiels looks at McCoy, not Harrick, holds a stare on her. McCoy figures it’s one of two things. One, the boss is wondering what the hell Harrick is still doing in the room. Shiels is the SAC, and McCoy is running this operation. This isn’t a roundtable discussion. But Harrick is McCoy’s partner, and she’s made him her right hand on this operation, too. Jane has been on the other side of this before and never appreciated being left out.

Or two, Shiels is insulted.Don’t you think that occurred to us, Agent Harrick?

“That doesn’t work.” Shiels flicks a hand like he’s swatting a fly. “One, we’d have to share a whole helluva lot with Elliot Raycroft to make him do that. This is an election year. A huge homicide in his jurisdiction, and he has a primary challenger, if you hadn’t noticed. And he’s a Republican, too, Agent Harrick, if you hadn’t noticed that, either, so it’s not exactly a waltz to reelection. He’ll be crucified if this comes back ‘unsolved.’ ”