Jeffery Deaver - The Kill Room

“Now, I’m not going with a murder charge against the perps. It’s difficult to make a case in state court for a crime that occurs in a different country. That could be done but it would take too long.” Now a denser hesitation. “And it’s important to move quickly.”

Why? Rhyme wondered.

Intriguing…

Laurel continued, “I’m seeking other, independent charges in New York.”

“Conspiracy,” Rhyme said, his instantaneous deduction. “Good, good. I like that. On the basis that the murder was planned here.”

“Exactly,” Laurel offered. “The killing was ordered by a New York resident in the city. That’s why I have jurisdiction.”

Like all cops, or former cops, Rhyme knew the law as well as most lawyers did. He recalled the relevant New York Penal Code provision: Somebody is guilty of conspiracy when—with intent that conduct constituting a crime be performed—he or she agrees with one or more persons to engage in or cause the performance of such conduct. He added, “And you can bring the case here even if the killing took place outside the state because the underlying conduct—murder—is a crime in New York.”

“Correct,” Laurel confirmed. She might have been pleased he got the analysis right. It was hard to tell.

Sachs said, “Ordered the killing, you said. What was it, an OC hit?”

Many of the worst organized crime bosses were never arrested and convicted for the extortion, murders and kidnappings they perpetrated; they could never be tied to the crime scene. But they often were sent to prison for conspiring to cause those events to happen.

Laurel, however, said, “No. This is something else.”

Rhyme’s mind danced. “But if we identify and collar the conspirators the Bahamians’ll want to extradite them. The shooter, at least.”

Laurel regarded him silently for a second. Her pauses were beginning to border on the unnerving. She finally said, “I’ll resist extradition. And my chances of success I put at over ninety percent.” For a woman in her thirties Laurel seemed young. There was a schoolgirl innocence about her. No, “innocence” was the wrong word, Rhyme decided. Single-mindedness.

Pigheaded was another cliché that fit.

Sellitto asked both Laurel and Myers, “You have any suspects?”

“Yes. I don’t have the identity of the shooter yet but I know the two people who ordered the killing.”

Rhyme gave a smile. Within him curiosity stirred, along with the sensation a wolf must feel catching a single molecule of a prey’s scent. He could tell Nance Laurel felt the same, even if the eagerness wasn’t quite visible through the L’Oréal façade. He believed he knew where this was going.

And the destination was far beyond intriguing.

Laurel said, “The murder was a targeted killing, an assassination, if you will, ordered by a U.S. government official—the head of NIOS, the National Intelligence and Operations Service, based here in Manhattan.”

This was, more or less, what Rhyme had deduced. He’d thought the CIA or Pentagon, though.

“Jesus,” Sellitto whispered. “You wanna bust a fed?” He looked at Myers, who gave no reaction whatsoever, then back to Laurel. “Can you do that?”

Her pause was two breaths’ duration. “How do you mean, Detective?” Perplexed.

Sellitto probably hadn’t meant anything other than what he’d said. “Just, isn’t he immune from prosecution?”

“The NIOS lawyers will try for immunity but it’s an area I’m familiar with. I wrote my law review article on immunity of government officials. I’ve assessed my chance of success at about ninety percent in the state courts, and eighty in the Second Circuit on appeal. We get to the Supreme Court, we’re home free.”

“What’s the law on immunity?” Sachs asked.

“It’s a Supremacy Clause issue,” Laurel explained. “That’s the constitutional provision that says, in effect, when it comes down to a conflict, federal law trumps state. New York can’t prosecute a federal employee for state crimes if the employee was acting within the scope of his authority. In our situation, I believe the head of NIOS has gone rogue—acting outside what he was authorized to do.”

Laurel glanced at Myers, who said, “We pivoted on the issue but there’re solid metrics leading us to believe that this man is manipulating the intelligence that formed the basis for the assassination, for his own agenda.”

Pivoted…metrics…

“And what is that agenda?” Rhyme asked.

“We’re not sure,” the captain continued. “He seems obsessed with protecting the country, eliminating anybody who’s a threat—even those who maybe aren’t threats, if he considers them unpatriotic. The man he ordered shot in Nassau wasn’t a terrorist. He was just—”

“Outspoken,” Laurel said.

Sachs asked, “One question: The attorney general’s okayed the case?”

Laurel’s hesitation this time might have covered up bristling at the reference to her boss and his permission to pursue the investigation. Hard to tell. She answered evenly, “The information about the killing came to our office in Manhattan, the jurisdiction where NIOS is located. The district attorney and I discussed it. I wanted the case because of my experience with immunity issues and because this type of crime bothers me a great deal—I personally feel that any targeted killings are unconstitutional because of due process issues. The DA asked me if I knew it was a land mine. I said yes. He went to the attorney general in Albany, who said I could go forward. So, yes, I have his blessing.” A steady gaze at Sachs, who looked back with eyes that were equally unwavering.

Both of those men, the Manhattan DA and the attorney general of the state, Rhyme noted, were in the opposing political party to that of the current administration in Washington. Was this fair to consider? He decided that cynicism isn’t cynical if the facts support it.

“Welcome to the hornet’s nest,” Sellitto said, drawing smiles from everybody but Laurel.

Myers said to Rhyme, “That’s why I suggested you, Captain, when Nance came to us. You and Detectives Sellitto and Sachs operate a bit more independently than regular officers. You’re not as tethered to the hub as most investigators.”

Lincoln Rhyme was now a consultant to the NYPD, FBI and any other organization wishing to pay the substantial fees he charged for his forensic services, provided the case could be fixed somewhere near the true north of challenging.

He now asked, “And who is the main conspirator, this head of NIOS?”

“His name’s Shreve Metzger.”

“Any thoughts at all about the shooter?” Sachs asked.

“No. He—or she—could be military, which would be a problem. If we’re lucky he’ll be civilian.”

“Lucky?” From Sachs.

Rhyme assumed Laurel meant because the military justice system would complicate matters. But she elaborated, “A soldier’s more sympathetic to a jury than a mercenary or civilian contractor.”

Sellitto said, “You mentioned two conspirators, along with the shooter. Who else aside from Metzger?”

“Oh,” Laurel continued in a faintly dismissive tone, “the president.”

“Of what?” Sellitto asked.

Whether or not this required a thoughtful hesitation Laurel paused anyway. “Of the United States, of course. I’m sure that every targeted killing requires the president’s okay. But I’m not pursuing him.”

“Jesus, I hope not,” Lon Sellitto said with a laugh that sounded like a stifled sneeze. “That’s more than a political land mine; it’s a fucking nuke.”

Laurel frowned, as if she’d had to translate his comment from Icelandic. “Politics aren’t the issue, Detective. Even if the president acted outside the scope of his authority in ordering a targeted killing, the criminal procedure in his case would be impeachment. But obviously that’s out of my jurisdiction.”