Jonathan Kellerman - Survival Of The Fittest

“Final justice?” said Milo. “I find him, your boys finish him off?”

Carmeli stepped back, stubbed out the cigarette, and fumbled in his jacket for yet another one. “I'll grant you your moment of outrage. No one likes being watched, least of all a detective. But put your ego aside and stop being obstinate.”

He lit up. “We bent some rules to obtain information- fine, now we've confessed. I'm a diplomat, not a terrorist. I've seen what terrorists do and I respect the rule of law. Catch this piece of garbage and bring him to the bar of justice.”

“And if I can't?”

“Then your solve rate drops and I seek other solutions.”

As Milo regarded him, Carmeli took in lungfuls of smoke and tapped his foot. His eyes had turned wild and, as if realizing it, he closed them.

When they opened, they were dead, and the look on his face chilled me.

“If you refuse me, Milo, I will not make vengeful phone calls to the mayor or anyone else. Because vengeance is personal and you hold no interest for me personally, only as a means to an end. You might do well to adopt the same attitude. Think of me as a bureaucratic idiot, curse me every morning for listening in on your conversations. I'll live with your curses. But does your opinion of me mean Irit's murder doesn't deserve your best efforts?”

“That's the point, Mr. Carmeli. You've been hampering my best efforts.”

“No, I reject that. I reject that absolutely, and if you analyze the situation honestly, you will, too. If the Ortiz boy's shoes were left with the police to get attention, would giving the garbage more attention solve the problem? Be honest.”

Looking for an ashtray, he found one in a nearby cubicle, picked it up, flicked.

I thought of the kitchen conversation he'd heard. My theories, Milo's procedures.

Now he was face-to-face with Milo again, inches away, holding his cigarette next to his trouser leg.

Milo said, “Listen, I'm not gonna stand here and make a big deal out of this, because you've been through it, you've got serious rights, here. But I'm also not gonna let you control the investigation because of your outrage or who you happen to be. You're out of your element. You don't know what the hell you're doing.”

“Granted.”

“The point is, Mr. Carmeli, my job is a lot more perspiration than inspiration and if I do solve a few more cases than someone else it's probably because I try not to get distracted. And you've been distracting me. Right from the beginning, you've been trying to call the shots. And now all this espionage shit. I just spent hours of investigative time chasing down your boy in there, instead of looking for Irit's killer. Now, you order me to adopt him and just-”

“Not an order, a request. And one that could help you. He's a very able detective-”

“I'm sure he is,” said Milo. “But one case, in a country where violent crime is rare, has nothing to do with what we're dealing with. And now I've got to take time off from the investigation to figure out where he stuck his goddamn bugs-”

“Not necessary,” said a quiet, boyish voice. I hadn't heard Sharavi come out of the office but he was there, hand in pocket again. “I'll tell you exactly where they are.”

“Great,” said Milo, wheeling on him. “Very comforting.” He gave a disgusted look.

Carmeli said, “We meant no harm, Milo. The intention was always to be open, eventually-”

“How eventually?”

“The surveillance was nothing personal. And if you must blame someone, blame me. Superintendent Sharavi happened to be in the States on other business and I had him brought to L.A. because Gorobich and Ramos were getting nowhere. They talked to me, those two, but they never told me anything. I'm sure you know what I mean.”

Milo didn't answer.

Carmeli said, “I needed a starting point. Some basic information. In my position, can you honestly say you would have done any differently? The idea, all along, was that if Superintendent Sharavi came up with something, you'd be the first to-”

“Eventually? What if Dr. Delaware hadn't noticed that van in the alley? Would we have ever been told anything ?” He faced Sharavi. “Screwed up, didn't you, James Bond?”

Sharavi said, “Yes,” with an utter lack of defensiveness.

Milo shook his head. “License-plate switches, mail drop, and a phony language teacher to hide your trail? What's Irina, a full-fledged secret agent or just some free-lance? And who the hell is P. L. Almoni?”

Carmeli smiled and hid it behind his smoking hand.

“My mistake,” said Sharavi. “I didn't appreciate Dr. Delaware's powers of observation.”

“Underestimating Dr. Delaware is no way to win at blackjack,” said Milo. “He's a detail guy, attuned to all the nuances.”

“Obviously,” said Sharavi. “He was the one who urged pursuing the DVLL angle.”

“Our first real break,” said Carmeli, waving his cigarette. “Finally. We've plugged it into all our databases. Here, back in Israel, Asia, Europe. We have resources you don't. If we pool- this is no time to let egos get in-”

“Learn anything from your databases?” Milo asked him.

“Not yet, but the point is, the wider the net-”

“Sometimes the wider the net, the bigger the tangles, Mr. Carmeli.” He turned to Sharavi. “So tell me, Superintendent, is this conversation being taped, too?”

Sharavi's eyebrows arched higher. He glanced at Carmeli.

Carmeli said, “No, we've disconnected the recorders in the suite. However, you were recorded the first time we met.”

Milo allowed himself a tiny smile. Gut instincts confirmed.

“From now on,” Carmeli continued, “you have my word that no further surveillance will be conducted without your-”

“Assuming there is a “from now on,' ” said Milo.

“Are you that egotistical?” said Carmeli. He turned to me. “When I address Milo, I'm including you, Doctor. In light of the DVLL angle and two other related murders, we're clearly faced with a psychopathologic killer, so psychological input is called for. I'm not trying to get between you and Milo, but whatever he decides, the Israeli consulate is willing to reimburse you for your time at a very generous rate. The consulate is also willing to extend itself to you considerably. Because we know the deck is stacked against success and anything we can do to-”

“Anything?” said Milo. “You're saying the investigation gets the full clout of your office?”

“One hundred percent. It always has.”

“Full clout is yours to grant? Being only a social director? License to cater?”

Carmeli was thrown off. “Whatever is in my power I'll-”

Carmeli's eyes shifted over to Sharavi. The dark man said nothing.

“I'm an arranger,” Carmeli said. “I arrange all sorts of things.”

Milo and Carmeli remained eye to eye, each holding on to the stare as if it were precious.

Carmeli moved away first. “I've said what I have to say.” He walked quickly back to his office and closed the door.

Milo said, “How do we get out of here?” to Sharavi.

Sharavi reached behind the water cooler and something clicked. As Milo started for the door, Sharavi said, “In line with my promise to tell you everything, here's something important: Someone wrote DVLL in ballpoint pen in Raymond Ortiz's right shoe. Small letters, but discernible under the blood.”

Milo's hands clenched again and a dragon grin stretched his mouth unnaturally. “You have them.”

“No, they're in the Newton Division evidence room. Some of the blood has flaked away over time and it appears to have been applied thinly- probably with a brush, there seem to be strokes. But once you know what to look for, the letters are clear.”