Gospel (25 page)

‘And that was the last you saw of Tom Bradshaw,' said David.

‘I'm afraid so, Mr Cavanaugh. I hope I have been of help.'

‘More than you know, Maeve,' said Mannix. ‘More than you know.'

Joe thanked Maeve for her time and Maeve gave David her home number just in case they needed anything else. Then the coffee arrived along with an assortment of muffins and pastries and Joe shut the suite door to be sure they were not overheard.

‘I'll be honest with you, Mr Capon,' began Joe. ‘We figure you as a stand-up guy and as such we want to be up front from the get go.'

‘Thank you, Detective,' said Capon. ‘Please go on.'

‘This meeting here, well, it's not exactly on the FBI's watch, if you know what I mean. Sometimes us locals get a notion in our heads and we won't be comfortable until we see it through. It's probably nothing but we figure we wouldn't be doing our jobs if we didn't scratch every itch that bugged us. Do you understand, Mr Capon?'

‘It's Pieter, and yes, Detective, I think I do. The hotel business is built on discretion and I have worked in this industry a long time.'

‘Okay then,' said Mannix, putting down his coffee and leaning forward on the deep red upholstered sofa. ‘How did you find out about the Vice President's death?'

‘Well, I was nearby, just down the corridor when Mrs Bradshaw came out of the suite. There were so many people waiting for Mr Bradshaw to appear. I was there representing the Hotel. It is customary, on such occasions that I accompany the “special guest” down the service elevator to the lobby level and into the ballroom.'

Capon paused before going on, a slight melancholic smile crossing his face. ‘Everyone was so happy. The atmosphere was quite electric. His
staff, they obviously
liked
this man, had a genuine respect for him, which believe me, is not always the case.'

‘I'll bet,' said David. ‘So what happened next?'

‘Well, this is where it gets a little, how would I put it? Unusual. I was, of course, teetering between offering to help and stepping back to allow the experienced authorities to do whatever they needed to do. I moved towards the suite with everyone else, but remained back a little, against the far corridor wall.'

‘Go on, Mr Capon,' prompted Mannix.

‘Right, well, that was when the large man grabbed me by the arm. He asked me to come with him, inside the suite. Of course I went with him immediately, thinking I could possibly be of some assistance. He seemed to know who I was, told me he needed my help and once inside the room he took me to the far corner of the living expanse, over there.' Capon pointed to where the suite extended into another space housing a separate dining or conference room area.

‘As you can see, from that standpoint you have a clear view through the entire suite, past the living area and into the bedroom. I could just see the late Vice President, there,' he pointed again, ‘lying still on the left hand side of the bed, and there were agents trying to revive him, administering resuscitation, and then his doctor arrived and then the paramedics. This all happened very quickly, within a space of minutes.'

‘And you and the man were still standing in the corner?' asked David.

‘Yes, I mean, no. The man stood still for a few moments, almost as if he was surveying the room. He was obviously concerned about the Vice President and seemed somewhat relieved when the paramedics set up some sort of breathing device.'

‘And then . . . ?' prompted David.

‘Then the man looked in here,' said Capon, indicating the area in which they were seated. ‘And then back to the bedroom. And then he asked me to do something for him, to retrieve something from the living room sofa – just there,' said Capon, pointing at Mannix. ‘Behind where you are sitting Lieutenant Mannix.

‘It was the Bible,' Capon went on. ‘The same one Maeve was referring to, no doubt. Anyway, he asked me to get it and come back to this corner while he went to the bedroom. I did as he asked and looked over to see
him standing in the doorway – not exactly in and not exactly out of the bedroom. At this point my view of the Vice President was blocked. I could not see in and . . .'

‘Given he was a big man,' said David, ‘nobody else in the bedroom could see out, towards you at the far end of the living room.'

‘No, I suppose not. But it was only for a matter of seconds.'

‘Did he give you the impression the obstruction was deliberate?' asked Mannix.

‘Not at the time, but then later, I wondered why he did not simply retrieve the Bible himself. It was mere feet from where we were standing, after all.'

David looked at Joe. ‘And what did the man do next, Pieter?' he asked.

‘Well,' said Capon, taking a quick sip of water from one of the suite's crystal tumblers before going on. ‘At this point the paramedics had begun lifting the Vice President onto a stretcher for transportation. So the man came back over to me and took the Bible, and said thank you, and that he needed to pray. I said I understood and told him I had already said my own silent prayer for the Vice President and he said something like, “Throw in a good word for me too, will you, Mr Capon? I think I am going to need it”, and then he left the room.'

‘Did you recognise the man, Pieter?' asked David.

‘No, not at first but later – after I saw his picture in the newspaper – I realised it was Director Ryan, from the CIA, the same man Maeve saw earlier in the evening.'

‘And did you notice anything significant about the Bible?' asked Mannix. ‘Was it opened or shut, was it . . . ?'

‘Yes, it was opened. I remember because someone had circled some words at the top of the page, you know the header that reminds the reader which section they are in.'

‘And . . .' said David.

‘And it was The New Testament, specifically The Gospel According to Luke.'

‘Pieter,' said Mannix, ‘this is very important so I want you to take your time and think hard. Were there any other markings on the Bible, anything else circled or underlined?'

‘No.' said Capon, and David and Mannix hunched simultaneously in disappointment.

‘But there was some notation in the margin. A list . . . no, more like a little table of letters and numbers . . . I . . .'

‘Think hard, Pieter,' said David. ‘Picture those letters and numbers, were they in any special order or . . .'

‘I'm not sure,' said Capon, his face fixed in a state of intense concentration. ‘I am usually extremely good at remembering numbered lists – given my long career in hotel management. In the old days, before computers, we would work off ledgers as a matter of course. I could remember every guest and their corresponding room number, without fail.'

‘Wait a minute,' said David, Capon giving him an idea. David pulled out a notepad and a pen from his suit pocket suggesting that sometimes it helped to doodle down a memory, visualise it in writing – just like a guest ledger, a documented list.

‘Yes, yes, this will help,' said Capon.

‘Take your time,' said Mannix, and he and David watched as the hotel manager paused over the small piece of notepaper, the plastic pen perched neatly in his long and delicate fingers.

And then he began to write.

M – FBI

M – 2V

L – RD

J – I ???

‘I am not sure but I think this is close,' said Capon, handing Mannix the note.

‘Well I'll be,' said David.

‘Does this help?' asked a confused Capon.

‘It sure does, Pieter,' said Mannix. ‘It helps a whole lot. But there is just one other thing. This Bible, considering it was not the one that was lying on the Vice President's bedside table, we would have to assume it had come from Mrs Bradshaw's side of the bed.'

‘Yes. That Bible was missing after everyone had left. As was the other one – the Vice President's Bible from the left hand side of the bed.'

‘You know this for a fact?' asked David.

‘Oh yes, both Bibles were missing. The second one, on Mr Bradshaw's
side, it was taken by the authorities. I saw the Senior FBI Agent take it along with the other materials by the Vice President's bed. It was put in a plastic bag with a label on it.'

‘Would that agent be Washington Field Office Assistant Director in Charge Antonio Ramirez?' asked Joe, and David heard the slightest trace of anger in his voice.

‘Yes, that's him,' said Capon. ‘I remember overhearing him saying something about taking them to his suite. That he would get them expressed to the “lab”.'

‘It went into evidence after all,' said Mannix, glancing across at David.

‘I suppose that's what he meant,' said Capon. ‘Although, come to think of it, I don't know what use it would be to them – to the FBI I mean. It was just a standard hotel Bible, after all, the same as all the other editions in this hotel.'

‘Except for the one you retrieved for Richard Ryan – that one was different.'

‘Well, yes,' said Capon. ‘Given the notation in it, I suppose so.'

Mannix scratched his head and looked up at David, the smile now spreading across his face. He raised his hand to Capon indicating they needed a quiet moment before leaning into David's ear.

‘Ramirez had no idea,' he whispered. ‘He bagged the one in the bedroom thinking he was confiscating the book Pieter here collected for Ryan. Somehow he knew Bradshaw had been making notes in the Good Book – notes about Matthew, Mark, Luke and John – but he didn't realise there was more than one.'

‘He has the wrong Bible,' whispered David in response, realising in that instant that he was smiling too. ‘He has the wrong God-damned one.'

F
BI Washington Field Office Assistant Director in Charge Antonio Ramirez viewed sex as he did every other aspect of his productive, goal-oriented life – objectively. And so, as he climbed off the tall, milky skinned blonde, her cool eyes devoid of any trace of emotion, he moved straight to his wallet, handed her the fold of crisp hundred dollar bills and gestured at her neatly arranged clothes, which were folded and placed carefully on the arm of the living area's one seater sofa, indicating it was time for her to leave.

He approved of this one. She followed instructions. No talking, no noise, no excessive movements, no orgasm. She wore a conservative suit, clean white lace underwear, applied a light makeup and, best of all, left quickly and quietly, allowing him to get back to his work, his urges relieved, his purpose re-energised.

This latest recharge had been just what he needed – these last few months representing the most demanding phase of their strategy. Still, he was pleased to admit, all was going to plan; John, their leader, was securing their position, Luke the expendable was neatly disposed of and Mark, the believer, was completely under their control.

He allowed himself a smile as he remembered their last meeting, and in particular John's ‘
greatest nation on earth'
speech. He knew his superior
was just as selfish as he, and that was why they were such a good team. Certainly much of the posturing was for Mark's benefit, and perhaps to put some vaguely patriotic face on their brilliant but self-interested scheme. After all, the country
would
benefit in the process, it was just that he and John would benefit the most.

Of course, there were downsides. For starters he hated Boston, a burb of pompous liberals who claimed to be free-thinkers but were really a bunch of self-obsessed conservatives. But he was stuck here in this three-star hell until Montgomery was put away and all other accusations along with him. It was all part of the process and he had no right to complain.

He heard the click of the outer suite door and was pleased the blonde had gone. He put on a towelling robe, went to the mini-bar, poured himself a Johnnie Walker on the rocks and returned to the living area where he dialled the direct number knowing John would be working late, as always. Ironically, John's latest efforts on behalf of the Latham administration were to consult on the legal expenditure of campaign donations – donations that had now reached over $270 million, thanks to the popularity of Tom Bradshaw – and incongruously, would soon be spent promoting John in his wake.

‘Yes,' John answered.

‘It's me,' said Ramirez.

‘I told you not to call me here.'

‘Why? We have more than a hundred legitimate reasons to be speaking.'

‘What is it?' John asked.

‘Nancy Doyle is dead.'

‘Good. What else?'

‘A small detail. I hear Montgomery has fired his lawyer, which is probably no surprise. I expect he is looking for another as we speak.'

John said nothing so Matthew went on.

‘My people have their ears to the ground. If he approaches anyone in Washington, we'll know about it within minutes. All of the viable alternatives will be “unavailable” and any others are not worthy of our concern.'

‘He may go to New York, or Los Angeles.'

‘If he does, we have it covered.'

John said nothing, obviously trusting in Ramirez's ability to see things through.

‘What about Ryan?' asked Ramirez.

‘He has nothing,' answered John. ‘The man had been holding on to Tom's coat tails since Harvard, he lost his only ally when the Vice President died. His power base is being eroded. Even if he did decide to pursue his suspicions, his accusations sound fantastic and there is no one there to listen. I have made sure of it.'

‘And after the election . . .' began Ramirez, wanting confirmation of John's promise.

‘CIA funding will be reduced and the power of the FBI consolidated. As for Ryan, he will be replaced by someone we can control. Nothing has changed, Matthew. On the contrary, all is going to plan.'

‘Did you speak with her?' asked Ramirez.