Enigma (FBI Thriller #21)(46)
“What time did you call her, Detective Mayer?” Maitland asked again, still calm but there was a touch of the spurs in his tone. “Well?” Maitland stood tall behind his huge mahogany desk, his arms crossed, looking at Mayer like he wanted to throw him out the window.
Mayer looked down at his feet, then at his captain. “I don’t remember.”
Savich said easily, “Ms. Needleham, Shirley, emailed me at precisely eleven thirty-three last night. I hadn’t checked my email, wouldn’t have until this morning, if I hadn’t gotten a call that an attempt had been made on John Doe’s life.”
The only sound was Mayer’s hard breathing. Captain Ramirez remained silent, looking straight ahead, not at his detective. Savich continued, his voice as calm as night. “I know you were interested in John Doe, wondered who he was, really, and what had happened to him, just as I was. But because of your dislike for me, Detective Mayer, you put him at dire risk. Are you really trying to justify that?”
Mayer couldn’t help himself, it came spewing out. “You proved on Sunday that you’re a publicity-seeking glory hound. So you took down a young guy who’s certifiably crazy. Big deal. I would have brought him in if you hadn’t interfered, if you hadn’t wanted the spotlight, the media attention!”
Captain Ramirez took a step forward in front of Mayer. He said formally, “I wish to apologize for my detective’s negligence that could have cost a man his life. Agent Savich, what would you like me to do?”
I’d like to break a rib or two myself, or better yet, give him to Sherlock. He said, “Detective Mayer, let me ask you a question. Would you have felt responsible if John Doe had been murdered last night?”
Mayer looked like he’d been shot. “I never thought there was any danger to him! I thought you were just—”
“Just what, Detective?” Maitland asked.
“I thought Savich was throwing his weight around, rubbing my nose in how he could talk Detective Raven into anything. He did the same thing on Sunday! It pissed me off—”
Maitland interrupted him, “Answer his question, Detective Mayer.”
Mayer’s face was so red Savich was afraid he’d stroke out. No one said a word. Finally, he whispered, “Yes. Yes, I would have felt responsible.”
Captain Ramirez said matter-of-factly, “Do you now admit Agent Savich was justified in requesting a police guard?”
Stone silence. Captain Ramirez merely looked at him, waited.
Mayer said finally, “So he turned out to be right, in this case.”
Maitland said, “And if Agent Savich hadn’t taken a personal interest in this young man, do you think John Doe would still be alive?”
Mayer turned on Savich, but there was nothing more he could say.
Time to end it. Mayer was heaving with anger, with guilt, with humiliation. He was a man with a long career—a good cop, no, an excellent cop—and he’d finally admitted his mistake.
Mr. Maitland said, “Detective Mayer, you should know Savich didn’t call for this meeting, I did. I wanted to hear your apology myself. You have an excellent and fair captain, and he will decide whether to take any disciplinary action.” Maitland leaned forward, his big hands splayed on his desktop. “If I were Agent Savich, I doubt I would have behaved as well. I strongly suggest you get over yourself and stop the self-justification because there isn’t any.” He paused, nodded. “Captain Ramirez, thank you for coming.”
When the door closed behind the two men, Maitland said, “I’m thinking maybe Detective Mayer cares more about John Doe than he hates you.”
Savich said, “Maybe you’re right. But I do know that his hatred of me is hardwired. We’ll see what he does now. Thank you for dealing with this, sir.”
Maitland came around his desk, sent his fist into Savich’s arm. It hurt, but Savich smiled. “I know, boyo, that you would have let it go, but I couldn’t. Mayer had to be called out, he had to be brought to book. If there’s a next time, I can guarantee he won’t be so lucky.”
29
IN THE HELICOPTER OVER VIRGINIA
Elena kept her Walther pressed against Liam’s side. She was quiet, her mouth seamed, and Liam thought she was probably thinking about Jacobson’s perfect-ten swan dive to the road at the feet of those two FBI agents. All in all, in his opinion, it was a satisfying ending for the bully.
Liam turned to her, gave her a white-toothed smile. “Our little vacation in the forest didn’t turn out the way you planned, but hey, it had its moments. We’re finally going to see the big boss?”
“Shut up.” She pressed the gun harder against his side.
He continued to smile. No way would she shoot him, she’d already made that clear. And that made her vulnerable. Quick as a snake, he twisted the gun barrel away from him, grabbed the back of her head with one hand, and pressed the thumb and forefingers of his other hand under both sides of her chin, squeezing fast and hard upward to pinch off her carotid arteries until she sagged against him, unconscious. “Like squeezing a garden hose,” he whispered against her temple. “I’m glad you knew enough not to pull the trigger.” He kissed her temple. “You owe me, sweetheart. If I’d held you longer, you’d be dead, but I don’t want you dead.”