Catherine Coulter: Backfire

Cheney said, “I’ll be sure to pass that along to Julia.”

Stupid happy? Savich liked the sound of that.

–

Savich said to Virginia, “Since you’ve known Ramsey for a long time, you know his habits, his friends. Cheney and Agent Christoff will see you as a valued resource.”

Virginia gave a curiously charming snort. “Sure, like I’ll expect to see that from any of his precious special agents.” She sighed. “Every single cop in San Francisco wants to help get this crazy craphead, Dillon. You know Ramsey’s a hero, even after five years, he’s still Judge Dredd to all of us.”

Savich remembered how Ramsey had been dubbed Judge Dredd by local and world media after he’d jumped down from the bench, black robes flying, and single-handedly took out the three gunmen who’d invaded his courtroom with guns and violence and death.

He said, “Keep repeating that to Cheney and Christoff.”

“Just saying, Dillon. This is tough, really tough. It’s personal, not only for me but for most of the force.”

“We’ll get the crazy craphead together, then, Virginia,” Sherlock said. “See you later today.”

Ramsey, Savich thought, who did you push over the edge? And then he realized he and Sherlock would be three thousand miles away from the guy who’d written the letter to him. And they could take Sean with them, to stay at his grandparents’. That was a relief.

–

Cheney called again when they were on their way to Dulles. “Here’s what I know so far. Ramsey postponed a hearing at a trial yesterday morning because he believed the federal prosecutor wasn’t conducting the case properly, that he might have been threatened. He met with the federal marshal and the U.S. attorney, who are all in the same building with us, as you know.

“Now the prosecutor is a twelve-year veteran, Assistant U.S. Attorney Mickey O’Rourke. Ramsey had asked to speak to him in chambers, naturally, after he came to suspect Mickey might be purposefully jeopardizing the case. Mickey made an excuse. According to Olivia, Ramsey’s secretary, Ramsey told O’Rourke he wanted him and his people at the meeting he was calling. Mickey didn’t show, and none of his staff had any clue where he was. They hadn’t seen him since Ramsey adjourned the hearing, and they were worried about him. His second chair said Mickey seemed off. But this? No one could believe it. In any case, we can’t find O’Rourke. He’s now officially missing. There’s quite an uproar, as you can imagine.”

“The name of the defendant?”

“There are two co-defendants, Clive and Cindy Cahill, up for the murder of a rich software geek here in Silicon Valley. Either the Cahills have lots of money stashed offshore or they have some rich friends, because they have hired a first-rate counsel.”

But once the prosecutor was suspected, Savich thought, what would it matter which judge presided anymore? And O’Rourke’s disappearance would mean only a delay. None of it made sense yet to Savich.

He asked, “Why are the Cahills a federal case?”

Cheney said, “Because there’s espionage involved, that’s why. The murder victim, Mark Lindy, was working on a top-secret project for the government, and was probably murdered because of it. That’s why the FBI handled the case and not local law enforcement. We’ve got the Cahills pretty cold on the murder, but we could never find out the particulars of the project Lindy was into, because it involved national security. You know the CIA-they refused to tell us anything at all, even with CIA operations officers out here digging around.

“Even if a foreign government did set the Cahills on Mark Lindy, I don’t know which one. I’ll be speaking to O’Rourke’s team again while you’re in the air, see exactly what they have, if anything, that might help us find him.”

“All right, Cheney, see you this afternoon,” Savich said. He and his laptop MAX had a lot of reading to do about the Cahills on their way to California.

And flying with Sean was always a treat.

Before they left for the coast on the 8:19 a.m. United flight out of Dulles, Sherlock called her parents in San Francisco. “Lacey, you’re flying into a real mess here,” her father, Judge Corman Sherlock, said. “Ramsey’s shooting is all over local TV, and everyone is out for blood. What with his martial arts heroics in his own courtroom five years ago, you’d think most of the media around here would imply he’s unevolved and uncivilized. Go figure.

“There’s lots of speculation, as you’d expect, but no one knows a thing yet, and the FBI hasn’t said a word.

“The police commissioner’s got a press conference scheduled at noon. We’ll see if she’s going to try to squeeze the SFPD into bed with the FBI. It would be a good career move.

“I saw Ramsey yesterday. He was on his way out to meet his family to go listen to Emma practice with the symphony at Davies Hall.” He paused. “I told him I’d heard he’d postponed the murder trial, but he didn’t tell me anything, only shook his head, said it was too sensitive and too soon to talk about.

“We’re looking forward to seeing all of you. Your mother and I will get to take good care of Sean, of course, while the two of you are out finding the people responsible. I know you’ll nail whoever did this.”

From Dad’s mouth to God’s ears, Sherlock thought.

“This is an awful thing, Lacey, an awful thing. I’m wondering if it has anything to do with the trial he postponed. Do you think that’s possible?”

–

By the end of the very long flight, Sherlock and Savich agreed they would rather eat week-old frozen artichoke dip than compete against Sean in another computer-based adventure of Atoc the Incan Wizard , a young Incan boy who used numbers, magic, and nerve to unravel the knottiest arithmetic problems and bring down an endless number of villains. Sherlock called Atoc the Harry Potter of Machu Picchu. During most of the flight, she played with Sean while Dillon read files on MAX and Skyped Cheney, working out what the Criminal Apprehension Unit could do. Cheney said, “It would help us for MAX to work on trying to locate any offshore stash the Cahills might have, and what talent they could have called in on short notice. We’ve had no luck as of yet.”

“Eggs all in the Cahill basket, Cheney?”

“No, but it makes more sense than some sort of foreign government conspiracy to shoot Ramsey. I mean, if a foreign government was paying the Cahills for Mark Lindy’s top-secret materials, and they threatened to talk if they weren’t somehow found innocent, said government would more likely have them eliminated, not a federal judge or a federal prosecutor. There could be too much hell to pay for that.”

Savich said, “The Cahills are the obvious suspects, but what would it gain them to kill Judge Hunt?”

“Maybe they were afraid O’Rourke had already told Ramsey too much,” Cheney said. “But you’re right. We’re being thorough. We’re looking at mail threats to Judge Hunt, letters and emails going back three years, and we’ve started a review of his cases going back even further. I’m making sure the SFPD is in the loop, passing along some assignments to them. We can use the manpower.” He sighed, then added, “There are already endless complications, since Ramsey isn’t an anonymous federal judge like most of his confederates. Nope, he’s Judge Dredd, superhero. The mayor, the police commissioner, the major news outlets, even the conductor for the San Francisco Symphony have called me, wanting to know what progress we’ve made. The police commissioner is pushing for a task force, composed of the SFPD, the FBI, and the federal marshals, with the commissioner herself in charge. As if that’s going to happen. I’m already getting an ulcer.”