William Bernhardt - Capitol Murder

“And what do you think about the possibility of your colleague Senator Glancy on a presidential ticket?”

He tilted his head to one side. “Well, I prefer my presidents a little more to the right, if you know what I mean.”

“So you wouldn’t want to see the senator on a presidential ticket. And a pretty good way to prevent that would be to present false testimony that gets him convicted of murder, wouldn’t it?”

MacReady’s eyes narrowed. “Are you saying I’m a liar, son? ’Cause I don’t take too kindly to that.”

Ben ignored him. This was his time to ask the questions. “Tell me, sir-after you witnessed this alleged incident in Senator Glancy’s office, did you tell anyone?”

“Tell anyone what?”

“What you had seen. Glancy and Delia Collins… together.”

“No. Why would I?”

“Well, for starters, it might’ve helped eliminate Senator Glancy’s opposition to your bill.”

MacReady appeared indignant. “I don’t do business that way.”

“Did you file a complaint with the Senate Ethics Committee?”

“I saw no cause for that.”

“No cause? You all but said that you thought Senator Glancy had extracted sex under the promise of changing his vote. If that’s not an ethics violation, what is?”

MacReady shrugged uncomfortably. “I had no proof. I was just…”

“Talking through your hat?”

“Suspicious. That’s all. Suspicious.”

“So even though you suspected a clear-cut ethics violation, and even though it would’ve been to your political advantage to reveal your suspicions, you kept quiet about this incriminating incident for seven years. Let me tell you, Congressman-that’s what I find suspicious.”

“Objection!” Padolino bellowed.

“Sustained.” Herndon gave Ben a harsh look. “Watch yourself, counsel.”

Ben plowed ahead. “Sir, where was the desk in Senator Glancy’s office?”

“Same place it is today. In the rear center of the room, opposite the door, maybe ten feet back.”

“And did you stay in the doorway or did you step inside?”

“Well, I obviously didn’t step inside. You know what they say. Three’s a crowd.”

“And the couple you observed were behind the desk.”

“Yes. But I could see her clearly enough. Just off to the side and above the desk.”

“I don’t doubt it. But since you said the other person involved was lying down on the floor and she was facing him-his head would’ve been behind the desk. How on earth could you see him?”

For the first time, MacReady hesitated momentarily before answering, which Ben took as a personal triumph. “Well, his feet and hands were sticking out the side.”

“Could you see his face?”

“There was no doubt about who-”

“Please answer my question. Could you see his face?”

He sighed. “No, not as such. But it stands to reason-”

“That there was another person there. But you can’t say for sure who it was.”

MacReady rolled his eyes. “You’re right. I suppose it could’ve been anyone in Senator Glancy’s office, behind Senator Glancy’s desk, having sex with a woman who wanted Senator Glancy’s vote.”

“Move to strike,” Ben said, lips pursed.

“That will be sustained,” Judge Herndon said, giving MacReady the evil eye. “Are you done with this witness, Counsel?”

“Very done, your honor.” Oh so done. If he could’ve pulled MacReady off the stage with a hook, he’d have done it.

“Do you have any idea how busy I am?” Jones said, waving his arms in the air. “Any idea at all?”

“What’s his damage?” Daily whispered into Loving’s ear.

“Shh,” Loving muttered back. Loving and Daily had come to Ben’s borrowed office space near the courthouse. “I can handle it.” He laid his hand on Jones’s shoulder. “Jones, buddy, I know you’re buried in paperwork. I know you’ve been fieldin’ three times the usual motion practice. Just yesterday I heard Ben sayin’ how invaluable you were. How he’d be nothin’ without you.”

“He did?”

Loving smiled, hoping Ben hadn’t mentioned that Loving hadn’t been in the office for days. “He did. Problem is-I feel the same way. I could spend days stompin’ around the streets trying to track down this lead. Or you could probably figure it out in an hour. So you see why I came to you. I mean, I’m beggin’ you, Jonesey. I’m on bended knee here.”

“Oh, all right already,” Jones said, his face wrinkling. “What’s the sitch?”

Loving told him.

“Circle Thirteen? What the heck does that mean?”

“That’s what we were hopin’ you could tell us.”

“And that’s all you’ve got? Two words? Two very common words?” Jones turned to face the computer. “Jeez-this could take forever.”

“I know,” Loving said. “But even if it takes days, I’d appreciate it if you could-”

“Got it,” Jones announced.

“Huh? What?”

“I Googled it. Broadband is a wonderful thing. Amazing the stuff you can come up with…”

“Just like that?”

Jones smiled, obviously feeling very superior. “I have tried to show you how to use the computer.”

“I don’t like the computer.”

“Which is why I solved the mystery, and you didn’t.” Jones quickly scrolled down a webpage, scanning the text as he went. “Seems to be some sort of private club.”

“I checked the phone book. There was nothing.”

“I guess it’s a very private club. Besides-Circle Thirteen isn’t the name of the place. It’s the name of a group that meets there.” He continued scrolling. “Spooky-looking place. Spooky-looking people. Lots of black.”

“What a surprise,” Loving said dryly.

“They’re trying to keep strangers from getting past the home page. This site isn’t intended to be public-just a way for members to post messages privately, without leaving traces on someone else’s server. You need a password to gain entry.”

“Can you guess it?”

“I’ll do an end run.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means I’m going to sneak past their firewall and bust inside. I’ve got a little algorithm that might do the trick.”

Loving looked at Daily. “Do you understand what he’s talkin’ about? Because I don’t.”

Daily looked back at him sadly. “Amber is the computer whiz in the family. As far as I’m concerned, it’s just a big paperweight.”

“I’m in,” Jones crowed.

“Already?” Loving marveled. Jones was fast. Maybe he should consider not making fun of him at every opportunity. On second thought, naah.

“Oh my God,” Jones whispered, his jaw dropping. “Oh my God.”

“What?” Loving said, hovering behind him. “What’s Circle Thirteen?”

Jones took a deep breath. “Well, it isn’t a sewing circle. It’s more like… a coven.”

“A coven!” Daily stared at him in disbelief. “What are you saying? That they’re witches?”

“Of course not. That would be ridiculous.” Jones swiveled around and offered Daily his seat in front of the monitor. “They’re vampires.”

A t first, there were no inhabitants in the small dark ceremonial chamber. It seemed like a chapel, despite being entirely devoid of Christian iconography. There was a stained-glass window just above and beyond the altar, but no light came through it, and the images, to the extent they could be discerned, were dark and grisly: portraits of bloodletting, blood sharing, and unholy acts of violence to women and children. The only cross, just behind the altar, was turned upside down, so that it pointed toward the earth rather than the sky.

Slowly, thirteen figures entered the room, single file. They were each wearing black hooded robes that covered them almost completely. Only the slightest traces of facial features were visible. They arranged themselves in the center of the room, lining the perimeter of a circle with a five-pointed star in the center.