Дэвид Балдаччи - Absolute Power

“Shit. Can’t you get someone to replace you?”

“Maybe, if you pulled some strings.”

“Consider them pulled. How soon do you think we’ll hear from him again?”

“He doesn’t seem too anxious, although he might just be acting cautious. I would in his situation.”

“Great. So I can smoke two packs of menthols a day until we hear from him. By then I’ll be dead of lung cancer.”

“If he wants money, what are you going to do?” he asked.

“Depending on how much he wants, it can be accomplished without too much difficulty.” She seemed calmer now.

Collin rose to go. “You’re the boss.”

“Tim?” Russell went over to him. “Hold me for a minute.”

He felt her rub against his pistol as he gripped her.

“Tim, if it comes down to more than money. If we can’t get it back.”

Collin looked down at her.

“Then I’ll take care of it, Gloria.” He touched his fingers to her lips, turned and left.

Collin found Burton waiting in the hallway.

Burton looked the younger man up and down. “So how’s she holding up?”

“All right.” Collin continued to walk down the hallway, until Burton grabbed his arm, spun him around.

“What the fuck’s going on, Tim?” Collin loosened his partner’s grip.

“This isn’t the time or the place, Bill.”

“Well, tell me the time and the place, and I’ll be there because we need to talk.”

“What about?”

“You gonna fucking play stupid with me?” He roughly pulled Collin to a corner.

“I want you to think real clearly about that woman in there. She doesn’t give a shit about you or me or anybody else. The only thing she cares about is saving her own little ass. I don’t know what kind of story she’s spinning on you, and I don’t know what you two are cooking up, but I’m telling you to be careful. I don’t want to see you throw everything away over her.”

“I appreciate the concern but I know what I’m doing, Bill.”

“Do you, Tim? Does fucking the Chief of Staff come within the purview of a Secret Service agent’s responsibilities? Why don’t you show me where that is in the manual? I’d like to read it for myself. And while we’re talking about it, why don’t you enlighten me about what the hell we went back into that house for. Because we ain’t got it, and I guess I know who does. My ass is on the line here too, Tim. If I’m going down I’d like to know why.”

An aide passed by in the hallway and stared strangely at the two men. Burton smiled and nodded and then returned his attention to Collin.

“Come on, Tim, what the hell would you do if you were me?”

The young man looked at his friend and his face slowly relaxed from the hard line he normally wore while on duty. If he were in Burton’s position what would he do? The answer was easy. He’d kick some ass until people started talking. Burton was his friend, had proven it time and again. What the man was saying about Russell was probably true. Collin’s reasoning hadn’t totally evaporated in the presence of silk lingerie.

“You got time for a cup of coffee, Bill?”

Frank walked down the two flights of stairs, turned right and opened the door to the crime lab. Small and in need of paint, the room was surprisingly well-organized due in large measure to the fact that Laura Simon was a very compulsive person. Frank imagined her home to be every bit as neat and well-kept despite the presence of two preschoolers that kept her sufficiently haggard. Around the room were stacked unused evidence kits with their unbroken orange seals creating a bit of color against the drab, chipping gray walls. Cardboard boxes, carefully labeled, were piled in another corner. In yet another corner was a small floor safe that held the few physical items requiring additional security measures. Next to it was a refrigerator that housed evidence requiring a temperature-controlled environment.

He watched her small back as it curved over a microscope at the far end of the room.

“You rang?” Frank leaned over. On the glass slide were small fragments of some substance. He couldn’t imagine spending his days looking at microscopic pieces of who knew what, but he was also fully aware that what Laura Simon did was an enormously important contribution to the conviction process.

“Look at this.” Simon motioned him over to the lens. Frank removed his eyeglasses, which he had forgotten were still on. He glanced down and then raised his head back up.

“Laura, you know I never know what I’m looking at. What is it?”

“It’s a sample of carpet taken from the Sullivans’ bedroom. We didn’t get it on the initial search, picked it up later.”

“So, what’s significant about it?” Frank had learned to listen very attentively to this tech.

“The carpet in the bedroom is one of those very high-priced models that cost about two hundred dollars a square foot. The carpet just for the bedroom must have run them almost a quarter mil.”

“Jesus Christ!” Frank popped another piece of gum in his mouth. Trying to quit smoking was rotting his teeth and adding to his waistline. “Two-fifty for something you walk on?”

“It’s incredibly durable; you could roll a tank across it and it would just spring back. It’s only been there about two years. They did a bunch of renovation back then.”

“Renovation? The house is only a few years old.”

“That’s when the deceased married Walter Sullivan.”

“Oh.”

“Women like to make their own statement about those things, Seth. Actually, she had good taste in carpets.”

“Okay, so where does her good taste get us?”

“Look at the fibers again.”

Frank sighed but obeyed the request.

“You see at the very tips? Look at the cross section. They’ve been cut. Presumably with not very sharp scissors. The cut is pretty ragged, although like I said these fibers are like iron.”

He looked at her. “Cut? Why would anyone do that? Where’d you find them?”

“These particular samples were found on the bed skirt. Whoever cut them probably wouldn’t have noticed a few fibers clinging to his hand. Then he brushed against the skirt and there you are.”

“You find a corresponding part on the carpet?”

“Yep. Right under the left side of the bed if you’re looking toward it about ten centimeters away at a perpendicular angle. The cut was slight but verifiable.”

Frank straightened back up and sat down on one of the stools next to Simon.

“That’s not all, Seth. On one of the fragments I also found traces of a solvent. Like a stain remover.”

“That might be from the recent carpet cleaning. Or maybe the maids spilled something.”

Simon shook her head. “Uh-uh. The cleaning company uses a steam system. For spot cleaning they use a special organic-based solvent. I checked. This one is a petroleum-based, off-the-shelf cleaner. And the maids use the same cleanser as recommended by the manufacturer. It’s an organic base too. They have a whole supply of it at the house. And the carpet is chemically treated to prevent stains from soaking in. Using a petroleum-based solvent probably made it worse. That’s probably why they ended up snipping out pieces.”

“So presumably the perp takes the fibers because they show something. Do they?”

“Not on the sample I got, but he might have cut around the area just to make sure he didn’t miss anything and we got one of the clean specimens.”

“What would be on the carpet that someone would go to the trouble of cutting one-centimeter fibers out? It must’ve been a pain in the ass.”

Both Simon and Frank had the same thought and indeed had it for several moments.

“Blood,” Simon said simply.