Fair Warning (Jack McEvoy #3)(56)

“I’m curious about something,” he said conversationally.

“What?” Hammond asked.

“Your operation is magnificent. How are you able to take the DRD4 samples and link them back to each woman’s ID? I understand just about everything else but that—and that’s the beauty of this whole thing.”

Hammond nodded in agreement.

“Well, that’s proprietary but I’ll tell you. We totally own GT23’s database, only they don’t know it. We got inside. Complete access.”

“How?”

“We actually encrypted a DNA sample with a Trojan-horse virus and sent it in like everybody else does. Once in, the sample was reduced to code and it activated and we were in their mainframe. Complete backdoor access to their data. I’m a second-tier buyer of their DNA. I buy it, isolate the DRD4 carriers we want, and match the serial number that comes on every sample to the flesh-and-blood bitch we then list on the site.”

“That’s genius.”

“We think so.”

“Who is ‘we,’ by the way?”

Hammond hesitated, but for only a second.

“Uh, I have a partner. I’m DNA and he’s digital. He runs the site. I give him what he needs. We split the cash that comes in.”

“Sounds like a perfect partnership. What’s his name?”

“Uh, he doesn’t want to—”

“Roger Vogel, correct?”

“How do you know that name?”

“I know a lot because I’ve been here all night. Your records are not encrypted. Your computer security is a joke.”

Hammond did not answer.

“So where can I find Roger Vogel to ask him for more details of your operation?”

“I don’t know. He sort of comes and goes. He’s a private guy and we sort of lead separate lives. We were roommates once. In college. But since then we don’t see each other in person too much. In fact, I don’t even know where the guy lives.”

The Shrike nodded. Hammond’s refusal to give up his partner was admirable but hardly a problem. During the night he had read numerous deleted emails still in the desktop’s memory. Posing as Hammond, he had then sent a message to Vogel setting up a meeting for later in the day. Vogel had responded and agreed.

It was now time to end this. He got up and started to walk toward Hammond. He saw his captive’s arms tense and push against the bindings on his wrists.

The Shrike held up a hand to calm him as he approached.

“Just relax,” he said. “Nothing to worry about. Not anymore.”

He walked behind Hammond, wondering how different this would be. He had never actually done this to a man. He quickly leaned down and wrapped his powerful arms around Hammond’s head and neck, his left hand coming around and over his mouth so there would be no noise.

Hammond’s muffled cries of “No!” died in his hand and soon there was the deeply fulfilling snap of bone, cartilage, and muscle twisting to the extreme limit. Hammond’s last breath flowed hotly through his fingers.





JACK





25

I got up early but stayed in bed watching Rachel sleep, not wanting to disturb her. I pulled my laptop off the bedside table and checked emails, finding the only one of note from Emily Atwater. It had been sent late the night before, asking me where the Deep Throat documents were that I had promised to send after our call. She then suggested that I had intentionally held them back.

I quickly wrote a return email apologizing for the delay and pulled up the documents to attach. I first gave each one a quick read so their contents would be fresh in my mind when Emily called later to discuss them. As I scanned the DNA report from the Orange County Sheriff’s Lab I saw a name I recognized.

“Holy shit!”

Rachel stirred and opened her eyes. I had jumped out of bed and gone to my backpack to retrieve the notebook I had used the night before while on the call with Emily. I came back to the bed with it and quickly opened it to the page where I had written down a name. It was a match.





Marshall Hammond


“What is it, Jack?” Rachel asked.

“It’s Elvis in the box,” I said.

“What?”

“Old newspaper phrase. It means the thing, the nuts, the photo everybody wants. Only this is not a photo. It’s a name.”

“You’re not making sense.”

“Look at this.”

I turned the laptop’s screen so she could see it.

“This is the DNA report from the Orange County Sheriff’s Office that cleared Orton in the rape case down there. Remember, Deep Throat sent it to me? Now look down here where it says the name of the DNA tech who compared Orton’s DNA to the sample taken off the victim.”

“Okay. M. Hammond. What does it mean?”

“Marshall Hammond now works up here for LAPD’s crime lab and lives in Glendale. My partner on the story ran down the second-tier labs that have bought DNA from Orton’s lab. And this guy, Hammond, is one of them. And get this, he buys only female DNA.”

“I’m not sure I’m following you. I need my coffee.”

“No, listen, this is big. This guy Hammond cleared Orton, said the DNA was not a match. Now four years later he’s in business with him. On the FTC paperwork he says he’s researching forensic applications of DNA, but he only buys female DNA from Orton. Why only female if he’s looking at forensic applications? You see? Emily and I were already zeroed in on this guy and now I found out he was Orton’s ticket to freedom. That is no coincidence.”