Memoria (7 page)

BOOK: Memoria

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Jessup
rubbed his stubbed chin and looked at Binelli. Compared to
Claney
,
t
he
executive
was a mere wreck: an obese pig oozing fat all over the chair. He was larger than even
Freeman
, God rest his soul,
with his neck concealed by f
olds of multiple chins,
his droopy cheeks and his constant pantin
g. Binelli
grabb
ed
at the edge of the desk as if
expecting them to take him to the slaughterhouse any minute. Skittish, as opposed to
a composed
Claney
with
his eyes glistening like steel spikes, ready to bare his shark's teeth.

Jessup
sensed
Claney
's stare. The secretary wondered if they needed anything else. The Congressman gave her a dismissive nod. He sat up in his chair, crossed his legs and clasped his fingers
round
his knee. Cold-headed and in control, ready to handle whatever came his way.

The captain didn't like either of them. He wasn't sure which one he'd rather deal with. Still, he had little choice. The city attorney hadn't
issued a
search warrant
for the Memoria
's
HQ
—
insufficient grounds, apparently,
—
but confirmed the directors' consent to
Jessup
's
examining Kathleen Baker'
s desk
—
already long after
l
ocal security had snooped around her work
place. Nothing to glean there.

Jessup
was beside himself. He'd rather turn the whole building inside out, confiscate their computers and servers, visit the laboratories and question the staff.
He was almost a hundred percent sure t
hat
the Memoria's dons stood
behind the girl's murder.
After all, someone had hacked the police frequencies and entered the information that Frank Shelby was the head of a terrorist group which led to confusion in the department and patrols. Before her death, Kathleen had managed to send Shelby a pa
ckage
of
some kind
.
Once he's escaped during the attack
on the police s
tation
—
and
most likely, he'd been the one the a
ttackers
had wanted to eliminate
—
he'd been the first to make it to the post office. Had the suspect's friend
the bartender
not called the police,
Jessup
wouldn't have
known anything about the parcel. But the a
ttackers
,
armed to the teeth, had also
fol
lowed Shelby
into the center of Manhattan to start yet another massacre. Three officers killed on the spot, two more in a bad
way
, and
yet
more civilians killed.

Binelli sipped the hot coffee and put the cup back onto the desk. In his
fat
hand, it looked like a plastic toy. He coughed into his fist, clearing his throat.
Claney
didn't move. His eyes glinted, that was the extent of the Congressman's self-restraint.

B
astards. Ed
Freeman
and several officers had just died because of them.

Jessup took out a notepad and clicked the pen open.
"Who is
the chief of security
?"

"Joe Binelli,"
Claney
answered. "He's an act
i
ng chief
while we're looking for a suitable candida
te to replace him. You, officer… eh…
"

"Captain
Jessup
," he reminded.

"Yes,
C
aptain. Would you like to accept the post
, maybe
? The Mayor speaks very highly about you. Doesn't he, Joe?"

"Ahem," Binelli puffed
out
his cheeks, coughed into his fist again and nodded.

They had to be kidding.
Jessup
made a note on his pad. Imagine them mentioning the Mayor, when only two hours ago he himself had called
Jessup
giving him the official version of the incident.
The department guys knew nothing about it yet, but give it another six hours, and the news would flood the media: newspapers, TV channels and the Web. And
Jessup
would have a lot of explaining to do
.

Dickheads.
Apparently, the Mayor
had finally relaxed his butt cheeks and
accepted his position as Memoria's poodle.
He's not the only one,
though: just before
Jessup
had left for Memoria
's
HQ, he'd received a
call from the White House. They
guaranteed their support
after
making it clear that Shelby had to be recaptured wi
thin the next twenty-four hours
...
not necessarily alive. Or rather, as dead as possible.
Assholes
. None of
them had mentioned the dead offi
cers, as none spoke about their killers, either.

"What kind of work did Kathleen Baker do for Memoria?"
Jessup
stared at Binelli.

He gave
Claney
a bewildered glance
which made it
clear that the honorary chairman was such
in name
only. In reality,
Claney
was the
man at the
helm
:
the corporate smoke screen and their talking head whenever Memoria needed a
face to
put
on TV or to make a media statement.

"Scientific research," Binelli managed.

How's that for a vague job description.
Jessup
shifted his stare to
Claney
.

"
Tell me more
."

The Congressman made no secret of it.

"You see, Captain, the Corporation doesn't only provide for the civilian market. I'm sure you're familiar with the personality correction program, which is successfully applied by the US police for law enforcement.
But there are things," he leaned forward placing his hands on the table, "of which many don't know
, not even in the White House. Onl
y the Pentagon is in the know
. Kathleen Baker was one of our workers with access to classified information; one of those who work on the
strengthening of our country. You have to agree its
political situation is complicated to say the least. And when you think about the international arena and the tension in Europe! Do you understand me, Captain?"

"Absolutely."

They left him no choice. Tomorrow morning, by lunchtime at the latest, the case would go to the Feds.
That
th
is
corporate
lowlife
should
get off f
or the deaths of so many people!
Jessup
pursed his lip
s, nodding, and said,

"Gentlemen, while I'm on the case, I'm obliged to
ask
you to
come to
the police station
and
make a statement." He glanced at his watch. "Nine o'clock tomorrow morning."

"As you wish, Captain,"
Claney
answered, composed as before. "Our lawyers will
be there
to see you."

Jessup
rose and put the pen and the notepad back into his pocket. He meant to ask another question, about a
certain
William Bow, the dead woman's
co-worker
. But their conversation had gone off the rails, and a
s for Bow,
Jessup
couldn't get hold of him. A
pparently, at
lunchtime Bow had been rushed
to a private clinic someplace in New Jersey
. The clinic's personnel had refused to let
Jessup
's men in or give them the man's diagnosis: all that
Jessup
knew was it had
been some acute infection or other
.

The detective crossed the council chamber, lingering by the door under
Claney
's stare. He didn't return it,
then
pushed the door
open
and walked out into the reception area.

* * *

The Congressman turned to Binelli. The corporation manager stooped,
shrinking
his head into his shoulders. Binelli knew this heavy stare only too well. A killer's stare. He wanted to clear his throat again. Taking the tiny cup with shaking fingers, he poured the coffee into his large plump mouth. He burned his tongue and his palate, gagged
and couldn't help coughing.
He became nauseous
. Then he heard
Claney
's harsh voice,

"
Dickens
? Come now." The Congressman released the intercom key and sat back.

The wall to their left
slid sideways, letting
out a tall blond man with cold
pale eyes. Binelli
winced
and turned away
. He
listened as he stared
out of the window.

"Have yo
u found him?"
Claney
asked
.

"We keep listening to the police frequencies,
sir,
"
t
he
blond man answered
. "My mole at
Jessup
's department contacts me every half-hour.
I don't have enough men to
cover all of Shelby's contacts, though. The
police
have wider opportunities in this respect. I'm
just
thinking how
I could
use them, sir."

The Congressman slapped his hand on the desk.
Binelli
started and glanced at the blond man. He didn't bat an eye
lid
. Both
Claney
and
Dickens
—
Memoria's unspoken security chief
—
had enviable nerve
, the
only
difference being that the latter remained
Claney
's subordinate and was accountable
only
to him.

"You really think we should
get the pigs involved?" the Congressman nodded at the door that had let
Jessup
out
less than two minutes ago. "They do have
the
means and staff to help us,
that's for sure
." He clasped his hands, placed his elbows on the desk and said icily,

"It was your job to keep an eye on the Baker girl. You should have established all of her contac
ts, including Shelby first of all
. If the police find him before we do
, and if they recover
the
hard disk
...
"
The Congre
ssman glared at Binelli. "Want to tell me something, Joe? Cat got your tongue?"

"Ahem," the manager
licked his dry li
ps.
"
Russell
, we…
Dickens
had to think fast…"

"Too fast
, apparently
!" All composure left
Claney
's face, replaced by fury. "You got rid of this Kathleen
girl
without letting me know first! You've trashed the police station! You've started a shootout right in the
center
of Manhattan! And here's the result: Shelby's on the loose, bracelet-free, the
hard disk
in his pocket! How do you
suggest we
find him?"