Gregg Hurwitz - The Kill Clause

Tim gestured at the others. “And you collected them through your work?”

“Yes. I conduct extensive subject analysis in the course of my research. It’s helped me determine who would be responsive to my ideas.”

“And you took an interest in me when my daughter was killed.”

“Virginia’s case caught our eye, yes,” Ananberg said.

Tim was impressed by her decision to refrain from euphemism and refer to Ginny by name. This small, knowing touch also added credibility to Rayner’s claim that everybody present had lost a family member.

“We were having a hard time finding candidates,” Rayner said. “Your particular set of skills and ethics is remarkably rare. And the other remotely similar candidates we were considering fell too much into the rule-follower camp, which made them unlikely to partake in a venture such as this. We started looking at candidates whose lives had been marred by some personal tragedy. Especially those who’d had loved ones killed or raped by assailants who navigated through a faulty system to find their way back onto the streets. So when Ginny’s story hit the news, we thought, here is someone who understands our pain.”

“We didn’t know, of course, that Kindell would get off again,” Ananberg said, “but when that happened, it pretty much sealed our decision to approach you.”

“We’d hoped to recruit you as a deputy marshal, when you still had access to your tracking resources,” Rayner confided. “We were disappointed by your resignation.”

“I never would have done anything to undermine the service,” Tim said. “I still wouldn’t.”

Robert scowled. “Even after they betrayed you?”

“Yes.” Tim turned back to Rayner. “Tell me how it started. This…idea.”

“I met Franklin when I was in Boston for a law and psychology conference about three years ago,” Rayner said. “We were on the same panel-I had lost a boy, Franklin his wife-and we had an immediate affinity for each other. We went out to a meal afterward, found ourselves a few drinks in and theorizing openly, and the idea of the Commission was hatched. The next morning, of course, we dismissed our conversation as hypothetical banter. The conference ended, and I came back to L.A. A few weeks later I had one of those nights-you know the kind of night to which I’m referring, Mr. Rackley? The kind of night when grief and vengeance take on a life of their own? They become tangible, electric.” Rayner’s eyes drifted.

“Yes.”

“And so I called Franklin who, as fate would have it, was having a night similar to mine. We revisited the idea of the Commission, again in the safety of the night, but this time it took. It seemed less frightful in the cold light of the next morning.” His eyes regained their sharp focus, and his tone became more brisk. “I had tremendous resources at hand for selecting members of the Commission. In my studies I looked for law-enforcement officers with unusually high IQs, who were sensitive to authority and policy but were also independent thinkers. Now and then someone would strike me as particularly right for the Commission. And Franklin could run background checks, contact them, bring them into our circle.” He flashed a pleased little smile. “The hesitation you’re displaying now, Mr. Rackley, affirms our opinion that we want you on board.”

“Think of the collective experience and knowledge we have assembled in this room,” Ananberg said. “All the different ways we’ve spent time with the law, learning its curves and contours, flaws and strengths.”

“What if you disagree on a verdict?”

Rayner said, “Then we’ll throw out the case and move on. Only a unanimous verdict will stand in the Commission. Unanimity is required for any policy shift as well. That way, if any of us grows uncomfortable with anything, we have veto power.”

“Is this the entire Commission?”

“You will be the seventh and final member,” Dumone said. “If you elect to join.”

“And how is this little enterprise funded?”

Rayner’s mustache shifted with his grin. “The books have been good to me.”

“You’ll draw a humble paycheck,” Dumone said. “And, of course, all expenses will be covered.”

“Now we’d like to clarify one point,” Ananberg said. “We do not advocate cruel and unusual punishment. The executions are to be swift and painless.”

“I don’t go in for torture,” Tim said.

Ananberg’s lipsticked mouth pulled to one side in a smirk, the first break in her icy facade. Everyone seemed comfortable with letting silence fill the study for a few moments.

Tim asked, “What’s the status of your personal cases?”

“Franklin’s wife’s killer disappeared after being acquitted,” Rayner said. “The last reports of him were from Argentina. The man who killed the Stork’s mother is currently incarcerated for a later offense. Robert and Mitchell’s sister’s murderer was later shot and killed in an unrelated incident, and Jenna’s mother’s killer was beaten to death in a gang killing over a decade ago. That’s the status of our-how did you put it?-personal cases.”

“And the man who killed your son?”

Bitterness passed through Rayner’s eyes, then vanished. “He’s still out there, my son’s killer. Walking the streets. Somewhere in New York-Buffalo when last I heard.”

“I bet you just can’t wait to vote him guilty.”

“I wouldn’t touch my own case, actually.” Rayner looked offended at Tim’s expression of disbelief. “This is not a vengeance service.” His face firmed with a stalwart pride common to maudlin World War II movies. “I could never be objective. However…”

“What?”

“We’re going to call upon you to be. I’ve selected Kindell’s case for the Commission. It’ll be the seventh and final one we examine in our first phase.”

Tim felt himself flush at the thought of another crack at Kindell. He hoped his longing wasn’t too clear on his face. He gestured at the others. “How about theirs?”

Rayner shook his head. “Yours is the only personal case we’re going to examine.”

“Why’d I get so lucky?”

“It’s the only case that precisely fits our profile. An L.A. crime, a lot of media heat, the trial botched due to a procedural violation.”

“L.A. is key from an operational perspective,” Dumone said. “We’re only comfortable dealing with cases in this area. Our strongest contacts are here.”

“We’ve spent a lot of time here, me and Mitch,” Robert said, “smelling the street, figuring out how to operate-operate invisibly. You know the drill. Well-placed contacts. Phone lines. Car rentals. Back routes around town.”

“You must have well-placed contacts in Detroit,” Tim said.

“We’re known there. In Hell-A nobody’s anybody until they’re somebody.”

“Once we start traveling, dealing with other court systems and police bureaus, it really opens us up,” Dumone said. “Not to mention the trail it leaves. Airline tickets, hotels.” His eyes twinkled. “We dislike trails.”

“Something tells me there’s another angle,” Tim said. “Like Ginny’s case being a carrot you can dangle in front of me. That’s why it’s the ‘seventh and final’ one.”

Rayner seemed pleased-Tim was talking his language. “Yes, of course. No need to pretend. We do need an insurance policy of sorts, to make sure you’re not doing this just for revenge. We want to ensure that you stick around, that you’re committed to our cause. We’re not here merely to serve your agenda-there’s a greater social good at stake.”

“What if I don’t think the other executions are justified?”

“Then vote against all six of them, and we move to Kindell.”