James Carol - The Quiet Man

Sobek led the way along the path that bordered the front of the house. The bright halogens made the flowers in the planters look washed out. The grass looked artificial. They stopped at the front door. Sobek pressed his eye against the top scanner, his thumb against the bottom. Ten seconds passed, long enough for the metal detector to do its thing. The door clicked open.

‘It’s okay,’ Winter said. ‘I don’t have a gun.’

‘Should I be worried if you did?’

‘That depends on whether you’re a good guy or a bad guy.’

‘I didn’t murder my wife.’

‘That doesn’t necessarily make you one of the good guys.’

Sobek went inside. He hit a switch and the chandelier came on. Winter followed him through the impressive entrance hall, heading for the corridor that went behind the staircase. Sobek stopped at the basement door. He pressed his eye against the top scanner, his thumb against the bottom. The quiet click as the lock released was like a sigh. They descended the stairs in single file and turned right at the bottom. The door Sobek stopped at was made from the same brushed steel as all the other doors down here. It was heavy and unwelcoming. He opened it and they went inside.

Anderton had mentioned there was an office down here, and Winter figured that that’s what he was looking at. There was a desk, a chair, a telephone and a computer, but that’s where the similarity ended. The things you would usually expect to find were missing, all those little touches that helped to mark your territory. There was no ego wall, no bookcase, no filing cabinet, no sentimental ornaments. There were photographs, only there was nothing sentimental about them. At least, not in the traditional sense. They were displayed on three of the walls, one for each of the first three victims. Pictures from the crime scene and pictures from the autopsy. A morbid gallery of death and desolation.

The photographs relating to Isabella’s murder had pride of place. These were on the wall directly opposite the desk. Whenever Sobek looked up this would be the first thing he saw. In one of the autopsy photographs Isabella’s ribcage had been cracked open and her organs were exposed, wet and glistening under the bright surgical lights. In another the top of her skull had been removed, exposing her brain. The crime-scene photographs weren’t much better. It made Winter wonder again where Sobek’s head was at. Who the hell would want to see their wife looking like this?

Some of the crime-scene photographs were familiar because Anderton had sent through the same ones. And some were familiar because they’d been on the evidence boards in the incident room. And some he’d never seen before. It made him wonder how Sobek had got hold of them. At the same time he wasn’t surprised. Motivation and money made a potent combination.

Alicia Kirchner’s photographs were on the wall to the right, Lian Hammond’s on the wall to the left. More crime-scene and autopsy pictures. More death and desolation. The fourth wall was blank. Presumably this had now been earmarked for the pictures from Myra Hooper’s murder. Winter held out the laptop and waited for Sobek to take it.

‘I’m figuring that either you or one of your private army of PIs knows a computer expert. I need them to take a look at this.’

‘What exactly should they be looking for?’

‘Evidence that the webcam has been accessed remotely.’

‘You think the killer has been using it to watch Kirchner?’

‘It’s possible.’

Sobek didn’t say anything for a moment. Winter was wondering how long it would take for him to catch up with what was happening here. In the end it took less than five seconds.

‘Do you think he’s been watching me?’

‘If it turns out that he’s been watching Kirchner, then he’s probably been watching you, too. David Hammond as well.’

‘Why?’

‘First we need to work out if he has been accessing the webcam, then we can look at answering that.’

‘If you’ve got some ideas, I want to hear them.’

‘And you will. As soon as there’s anything worth sharing I’ll share it with Anderton, and then she’ll share it with you.’

‘I’m not the enemy here.’

‘No you’re not, but you do have a vested interest. Let’s face it, you’re not exactly an impartial observer.’

‘All I want is for the bastard who killed my wife to be brought to justice.’

‘And when you shut your eyes at night how exactly does that particular dream play out?’

‘I just want to see him behind bars.’

‘Do you? So you don’t dream about putting a gun to his head and pulling the trigger? Or driving a knife into his gut and keeping going until it pierces his heart?’

‘I’m not going to lie, those thoughts have crossed my mind. But if you spoke to Eric Kirchner or David Hammond they’d tell you the exact same thing. Unfortunately, the reality of the situation is that I’d never get close enough to do anything like that. Right now, the best I can hope for is that the killer gets caught and the arrest goes bad.’ He stopped talking and stared Winter in the eye. ‘You know, if that was to happen, I’d be happy to pay a bonus.’

Winter said nothing.

‘You were working a case in Detroit recently,’ Sobek went on. ‘That arrest went bad. And it’s not as if this is the first time that something like this has happened on a case you were involved in. Statistically speaking, your strike rate seems to be above average.’

‘There’s no great conspiracy. The people I’m hunting know they’ve reached the end of the line. All they’ve got to look forward to is life imprisonment or a cell on death row. Faced with that prospect they go looking for a way out. Wouldn’t you?’

‘I’m betting that you don’t lose much sleep, though. In fact, I doubt you lose any.’

‘No, I don’t. All that matters is that they’ve been stopped. Whether they’re dead or in prison, it makes no difference.’

‘So you don’t even get a little bit of pleasure out of seeing them die?’

They locked eyes. Nobody spoke. It was Winter who eventually broke the silence.

‘How big a bonus are we talking about here?’

‘Name your price.’

‘You couldn’t afford me.’

‘You think?’

‘Two million bucks. And just so we’re clear here, this is non-negotiable. If anything goes wrong, it’s my ass that ends up in prison.’

For a moment Sobek just stood there with a calculated look on his face, like he was giving the proposal some serious thought. Then he grinned. ‘If only it was that easy.’

‘If only. Look, the last thing I need right now is you going vigilante. Even if you’re going vigilante by proxy. Do you understand?’

The grin turned into a smile.

‘I’m figuring that you’re a bottom-line sort of guy,’ Winter went on. ‘So I’m going to lay out the bottom line for you. I can catch this guy, but if you get in my way that’s going to make a tough job that much harder. And just so there’s no misunderstanding, once he has been caught, he’s going to go to trial, and then he’s going to prison for the rest of his life. Do you understand?’

‘I can live with that. Prisons are dangerous places. They’re filled with thieves and murderers. You’ve got to wonder how long he’d survive in an environment like that.’

‘And if he did end up stabbed in the shower, I wouldn’t have a problem with that. Just so long as you had nothing to do with it.’

‘It’s good to know that we’re on the same page.’

‘Sobek, we’re not even close to being on the same page.’ Winter nodded to the desk, where Kirchner’s laptop was lying. ‘So, do you know anyone who could take a look at that?’