Blow Out
Page 75
Margaret Califano sat with Callie, holding her hand, both of them covered from head to foot in black. Margaret’s friends, their husbands and families flanked her. Like the Swiss Guard protecting the kings of France, Savich whispered to Sherlock.
Director Mueller, DAD Jimmy Maitland, Sherlock, Savich, and Ben Raven sat two pews behind Margaret Califano, and behind them were several Supreme Court police officers, including Henry Biggs, who still looked frail, but at least was alive. Savich wondered why Mrs. Califano had invited him. She was, he decided, a class act.
When the service ended, the President and First Lady were escorted out of St. Luke’s, surrounded by the Secret Service, then the Vice President and Mrs. Chartly. Margaret stood beside her husband’s flag-draped coffin, shaking hands, speaking in her low quiet voice, thanking people for coming. When it was time, she looked toward the doors, saw the media held back by the Metro police. She drew a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and walked out with Callie to speak to them, the coffin wheeled slowly after her by the eight remaining Justices, an incredibly stirring sight Savich knew would be immortalized around the world.
The shouted questions stopped the instant she opened her mouth. Margaret spoke quietly, and graciously thanked everyone for their warmth and support for her family. Concerning the investigation, she said only that she was confident the FBI would find the man who had killed her husband. She also said that after her husband’s interment at St. Martin of the Fields, she would speak to the media, at her own home. She politely declined to answer any questions, only repeated, “I will speak to you again later at my home.”
The small, private interment went quickly and smoothly, with the media kept a good distance away from the gravesite by the same officers who had been at St. Luke’s.
Savich, Sherlock, Ben, and a few more FBI agents accompanied Margaret Califano to the press conference she gave at her home on Beckhurst Lane. She answered every question patiently and politely.
“We hear The Washington Post has the inside track on this because of you, Ms. Markham,” shouted one reporter. “Is that proper conduct for a major newspaper in an investigation of this stature?”
Callie stepped forward. “No, it certainly wouldn’t be if such a thing were true, but it isn’t. I’m on a leave of absence from the Post. I’m helping the authorities as much as I can, but only as Justice Califano’s stepdaughter.”
Jed Coombes, Callie’s editor, called out, a mixture of sarcasm and bitterness clear in his voice. “It’s true, she won’t give us the time of day.”
This brought more laughter.
“You’re gonna fire her?”
A thoughtful frown. “Probably not.”
When it was over, when finally all the TV vans and reporters had left, Sherlock went home to Sean, and Savich stopped in to see Jimmy Maitland at FBI headquarters.
FBI HEADQUARTERS
THURSDAY AFTERNOON IT WAS WINTER, dark at five-thirty. A cold drizzle slapped against the window in Jimmy Maitland’s office. Savich sat in front of his boss’s desk, his hands clasped between his legs, staring at his shoes.
“MAX has come up dry, and so have we,” Savich said. “Günter seems to have completely disappeared in 1988.”
“Anything at all useful about Günter before 1988?”
Savich shook his head. “He could be an American, an Albanian, an Armenian. He left no clues. The guy’s a pro.
“As for the rest of it, the local investigation—we haven’t turned up a fingerprint, a footprint, usable DNA, not even a vague description by a witness. The garrote leaves no trace, one of its advantages.
“We’ve followed up on all the phone records, checked every deleted file on computers that could be connected to the Justice, but nothing has fallen out of that.
“Some of what we’re looking at—further background checks on everyone who could be involved, review of both victims’ financial records, interviews with felons Justice Califano convicted and white-collar criminals he bankrupted, going back many years—these will take more time, but as you know, they’re a bit of a stab in the dark. So far, all we really have is the connection MAX gave us to Günter, and the fact that whatever it was that triggered Justice Califano’s murder, Danny O’Malley was somehow able to find out about it.
“Our interviews have been useful, but nothing seems to tie into anything substantial yet. All the inconsistencies, even the downright lies don’t seem to matter. And Danny—the only person I can believe about Danny is Annie Harper, and that’s because Dr. Hicks hypnotized her and I questioned her myself.”
Director Mueller, DAD Jimmy Maitland, Sherlock, Savich, and Ben Raven sat two pews behind Margaret Califano, and behind them were several Supreme Court police officers, including Henry Biggs, who still looked frail, but at least was alive. Savich wondered why Mrs. Califano had invited him. She was, he decided, a class act.
When the service ended, the President and First Lady were escorted out of St. Luke’s, surrounded by the Secret Service, then the Vice President and Mrs. Chartly. Margaret stood beside her husband’s flag-draped coffin, shaking hands, speaking in her low quiet voice, thanking people for coming. When it was time, she looked toward the doors, saw the media held back by the Metro police. She drew a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and walked out with Callie to speak to them, the coffin wheeled slowly after her by the eight remaining Justices, an incredibly stirring sight Savich knew would be immortalized around the world.
The shouted questions stopped the instant she opened her mouth. Margaret spoke quietly, and graciously thanked everyone for their warmth and support for her family. Concerning the investigation, she said only that she was confident the FBI would find the man who had killed her husband. She also said that after her husband’s interment at St. Martin of the Fields, she would speak to the media, at her own home. She politely declined to answer any questions, only repeated, “I will speak to you again later at my home.”
The small, private interment went quickly and smoothly, with the media kept a good distance away from the gravesite by the same officers who had been at St. Luke’s.
Savich, Sherlock, Ben, and a few more FBI agents accompanied Margaret Califano to the press conference she gave at her home on Beckhurst Lane. She answered every question patiently and politely.
“We hear The Washington Post has the inside track on this because of you, Ms. Markham,” shouted one reporter. “Is that proper conduct for a major newspaper in an investigation of this stature?”
Callie stepped forward. “No, it certainly wouldn’t be if such a thing were true, but it isn’t. I’m on a leave of absence from the Post. I’m helping the authorities as much as I can, but only as Justice Califano’s stepdaughter.”
Jed Coombes, Callie’s editor, called out, a mixture of sarcasm and bitterness clear in his voice. “It’s true, she won’t give us the time of day.”
This brought more laughter.
“You’re gonna fire her?”
A thoughtful frown. “Probably not.”
When it was over, when finally all the TV vans and reporters had left, Sherlock went home to Sean, and Savich stopped in to see Jimmy Maitland at FBI headquarters.
FBI HEADQUARTERS
THURSDAY AFTERNOON IT WAS WINTER, dark at five-thirty. A cold drizzle slapped against the window in Jimmy Maitland’s office. Savich sat in front of his boss’s desk, his hands clasped between his legs, staring at his shoes.
“MAX has come up dry, and so have we,” Savich said. “Günter seems to have completely disappeared in 1988.”
“Anything at all useful about Günter before 1988?”
Savich shook his head. “He could be an American, an Albanian, an Armenian. He left no clues. The guy’s a pro.
“As for the rest of it, the local investigation—we haven’t turned up a fingerprint, a footprint, usable DNA, not even a vague description by a witness. The garrote leaves no trace, one of its advantages.
“We’ve followed up on all the phone records, checked every deleted file on computers that could be connected to the Justice, but nothing has fallen out of that.
“Some of what we’re looking at—further background checks on everyone who could be involved, review of both victims’ financial records, interviews with felons Justice Califano convicted and white-collar criminals he bankrupted, going back many years—these will take more time, but as you know, they’re a bit of a stab in the dark. So far, all we really have is the connection MAX gave us to Günter, and the fact that whatever it was that triggered Justice Califano’s murder, Danny O’Malley was somehow able to find out about it.
“Our interviews have been useful, but nothing seems to tie into anything substantial yet. All the inconsistencies, even the downright lies don’t seem to matter. And Danny—the only person I can believe about Danny is Annie Harper, and that’s because Dr. Hicks hypnotized her and I questioned her myself.”
