Absolute Instinct jc-11 Page 25

  “What's that?”

  “You can both lie with a straight face.”

  “Call it survival tactics learned at an early age.”

  “Given your brother's state of mind, I suppose I can understand him… if he was making it up.”

  “You really think there's a chance the blood type is still in question?”

  “I think we need to verify his blood type one way or another and not simply take the word of a depressed man facing execution.”

  “Hell yeah… his emotions hafta be going yo-yo, sure.” Darwin grasped at the straw, happy to have it to hold on to.

  They now stood under the waning sky, clouds rolling in, outside the Oregon State Penitentiary, the sunny day was turning to dusk with threat of rain in the air. “I was told Albert Waters is not here but that we can catch him at a clinic in Portland. I have the address and number.”

  “In the meantime, we've gotta get on Cellmark's ass. Can you really get Director Fischer on them?” Darwin urged.

  “I'm going to do my damnedest.”

  They climbed into the rental car Darwin called an investment, not wishing to rely on local law enforcement and FBI for anything. They drove off the dismal grounds, having to get clearance at three checkpoints. Once outside the gates, before getting on the road to Portland, they still had to drive through the protesters on either side of the car, slowing their progress. Pro-lifers and those wanting to have the execution televised shouted slogans at one another. Jessica could never understand the mentality that had people who were for execution picketing prisons on the eve of an execution. They were getting what they wanted. What else could they possibly hope to accomplish?

  Finally, they were past all the checkpoints and the mob. With Darwin driving, Jessica telephoned FBI headquarters in D.C., hoping to catch Director William Fischer, her mental fingers crossed. She announced herself and asked to be put through to the FBI director.

  Darwin meanwhile dialed for Dr. Waters.

  A pleasant sounding woman's voice came over for Jessica, one she recognized as Fischer's personal secretary, Madeline. “Why Jessica Coran, how nice to hear from you. What can we do for you, Doctor?”

  “I need the director. I need his help.”“I'm afraid he's en route to Africa.”

  “Africa?”

  “South Africa to be accurate.”

  “Then find a way to put me through to him. I need him to call in a rush order at Cellmark in St. Paul.” She gave Madeline the phone number to the DNA test labs. “It's a matter of life and death.”

  “Yes, the Towne affair in Oregon, we know.”

  “You do?”

  “Director Fischer has heard all about it, and your part in it, Dr. Coran.” She sounded icy.

  “What do you mean he's heard all about what? Eriq Santiva always keeps him informed of my movements.”

  “Well… when the governor of Oregon calls and learns that you falsely used the director, well then that puts a less than desirable light on things, Dr. Coran.”

  “That bastard Hughes. No telling what that mashing SOB said to Mr. Fischer.”

  “Whatever it was, Director Fischer left word for you that he'd deal with you, dear, when he returned from Africa.”

  The woman had such economy of words. She could write a book on how to be brief. “Put me through to him wherever he is, Madeline, now.”

  “He won't be inclined to talk to you just now, dear, and I suspect-”

  “I'll take my chances, Maddy!”

  “-and I suspect a little cooling off period might do you both good.” She hung up on Jessica.

  Jessica stared at the phone and thought about Hughes's personal secretary calling Fischer's personal secretary, comparing notes and putting the governor on with Fischer, who told his side of things. It all seemed like the world hinged upon the predispositions of bitties like Mrs. Dornan and Madeline Camden.

  “What just happened?” asked Darwin, his eyes reading the strange look on her face.

  “Fischer's out of the office.”

  “So?”

  “Way out-somewhere on his way to South Africa.”

  “But you can still reach him.”

  “I'll send him an E-mail. That bitch Dornan must have given Madeline an earful, and she's not sympathetic. In fact, she's always been a bit hostile toward me… and just waiting for an opportunity to do something about it.”

  Dr. Waters came on the line for Darwin. Darwin introduced himself and asked about his brother's blood type. “Did you give him a blood test today at the prison? And what were the results?”

  “I have a blood sample on file, one taken over a year ago. During his preliminary incarceration, while awaiting trial. I would have no need of taking blood from him in his cell today. You must've been misinformed.”

  “And the blood type, Dr. Waters?”

  “AB-negative.”

  “Are you staring at the results as we speak?”

  “Don't need to. I remember because you're not the only one interested.”

  “What're you saying, Dr. Waters?”

  “I got a call from Donald Gwingault, the warden, asking the very same question only a few hours ago. Said he and the governor wanted to know.”

  “I see,” replied Darwin.

  Waters continued, “As I understood it, the governor himself requested it, and I'd hoped Towne's test would have come out anything but AB-negative. He's a good man, Rob Towne, and God, for the life of me, I can't see this man falling so far into depravity as to open his wife up and rip her apart that way. Unless I am a complete idiot in judging character, but I have had over thirty years working in the penal system as well as my private practice.”

  “Thank you, Doctor, for that. And you are sure there can be no mistake about the blood test?”

  “None whatever. I am sorry.”

  He hung up, saying to Jessica, “No point in going to Waters's clinic now.” Darwin appeared defeated, all his earlier enthusiasm drained.

  “The prison doctor confirms a test was done and Robert was right about it being AB-neg?”

  “Yeah, but the test was done long before today, so you were half right about Robert's not being completely honest with us. No wonder Robert's so discouraged. His own blood is accusing him now.”

  “Bad luck, sheer bad luck.”

  “It always followed him, and even now with him going nowhere, it still hangs over his head.”

  “Keep your eyes on the road,” she said, and he got the double entendre.

  “Will do.” Though he said it with little conviction.

  “Look, we've gotta get to Fischer. Find a computer and contact him, have him call me. If I can put everything in proper light for him, I know he'll do all he can to save an innocent man from execution.”

  “By now the governor knows the blood test went bad for Rob,” said Darwin as they sped down the interstate.

  “Same blood type. So what?” she announced.

  “So what?”

  “It proves nothing! There are millions of people walking around this country with AB-negative.”

  “So what the hell're we going to do now? The rabbit is dead.”

  “We go after those DNA results more aggressively, and we get all the might of the FBI behind doing so.”

  SIXTEEN

  The band is out, the society is out,

  Watch out Mother who made me,

  The band's out, the society's out,

  Mothers of Children

  Tie up your stomachs.

  — Haitian voodoo song

  Jessica and Darwin had little difficulty finding a computer. They were everywhere these days, and so they located a computer cafe on the outskirts of Portland, wishing to stay close to the airport, the governor's mansion and the prison.

  Jessica telephoned and roped Eriq Santiva in on their side, Eriq promising to pressure Cellmark. “As much as possible.” But the savvy Cuban also added, “But I gotta agree with you, Jess. Getting Fischer onto their heads at this Minnesota testing
facility… that would far outweigh anything I can say or do to move them along.”

  “There's gotta be a way.”

  “I've already talked to Sharpe about this, Jess, and he-”

  “Richard? When?”

  “Less than an hour ago, maybe forty minutes. He called from a flight to Oregon out of San Francisco.”

  “What was his request?”

  “I sent men from our Minnesota field office to camp on them. He said a Millbrook detective wasn't enough of a presence.”

  “And you complied with the request?”

  “It's a favor to Richard. He seemed adamant, and I'm going to need him soon. Things may be popping with that China deal we've been brokering, and as always the State Department's first priority is to international cooperation among crime-fighting organizations worldwide.”

  “So you want Richard back at Quantico for a briefing.”

  “Very good, Jess. Go to the head of the-”

  “Thanks, Eriq, for your help.”

  “Tell me, Jess.”

  “Yes?”

  “You've met this guy Towne now. What do you think? What does your gut tell you about him?”

  “Innocent, railroaded,” she shot back, “and sadly broken.”

  “I gotta tell you I was shocked… well, truly surprised… to learn you'd taken up the cause of a death-row inmate. You of all people.”

  “I had a good guide to this one, Eriq.”

  “And this thing in Chicago? It certainly smacks of a connection. Is it connected?”

  “Too soon to be absolutely certain, but yeah, we have people working on connecting the dots there.”

  They said their good-byes and he wished her luck and foolishly reminded her that time was running out fast now.

  Darwin's pained face met hers when she got off the line with Eriq. He looked stricken.

  “What is it? Your brother? What?”

  “Damn fools Petersaul and Cates.”

  “What about them?”

  “They gave all their findings to Hughes's office, and it was… was good stuff.”

  “Christ, it won't be, not by time Hughes and his people have poked holes in it, and put their spin on it.”

  “Damn fool Amanda!”

  “What's with Petersaul?”

  “Said she couldn't get hold of either of us or Sharpe. Called while we were without our phones in with Robert. Damn!”

  “Why didn't she just leave a message?”

  “She did on my voice mail. It's why I called her back but too late. She thought she was doing right.”

  “No way she could know the governor's as big an ass as… as… as the governor's ass.”

  Darwin laughed at this.

  “I've got my plea in now to Fischer. All we can do now is pray that he puts on the needed pressure, and that Cellmark gets the DNA mapping done for the signature of the killer, and then we match it to Rob's, and we'll have the conclusive proof we need to free him.”

  Jessica pressed send on the E-mail, a detailed needs list directed at her boss's boss.

  “What if he doesn't get it?”

  “The E-mail?”

  “The E-mail, its contents, the reason for all of this?”

  “We have to hope he does.”

  “Hope is become a shredded, unraveling cord, Jess, or haven't you noticed? Damn that blood type. Why couldn't it have gone in our favor?” he asked.

  “Because God is enjoying the drama a little too much, maybe? But wait a minute. Just hold on a minute.”

  He stared at her, trying to fathom her thoughts. “What? What're we holding on for?”

  “We need to… I mean what if… could it possibly work?”

  Still confused, Darwin placed both hands on her shoulders and amid the cafe crowd gripped her strongly and said, “Spit it out.” “No… not here. In the car on the way to pick up Richard at the airport. I've got to think this through.”

  He plunked down enough bills to cover the coffee and pastries they'd nibbled on along with the usage fee for the computer. “If you've got a new direction, I want to hear about it. Come on.”

  They sat out on the airport taxi strip, having flashed their FBI badges out the windows of the rented LeSabre. Now they watched as the jumbo jet arriving from San Francisco, and carrying Richard Sharpe, touched down with a bark of burning tires, calmed, slowed and came to a stop to make a forty-five-degree turn for the terminal. Jessica anxiously awaited Richard as the jet lazily taxied toward the terminal.

  Sharpe, traveling light with only a carry-on, found them and he and Jessica hugged and kissed for a long, warm reunion.

  Darwin hung back, standing at the open driver's side door. In a moment, Jessica put the two men together to shake hands.

  A deepening dusk had fallen over Portland. By midnight tomorrow night, Robert Towne would be executed. Time seemed now to be pouring through the hourglass like a flash flood through a baked dry, thirsty ravine. Unstoppable, unless Jessica's plan could be made to work. She feared letting Richard know of it, feared he would on the one hand oppose it as too dangerously criminal, outside the bounds of the law and their duty, and on the other hand he might agree to it almost as quickly as Darwin had, which would make him another accomplice in the act, another culpable party.

  They would have to broach the subject carefully with Richard or attempt it without his knowledge. The decision was hers entirely. Darwin had made it clear that, with or without Richard's assistance, he would break his unlawfully prosecuted, unlawfully convicted brother out of prison if only for a few days, until they could prove conclusively via DNA evidence out of Minnesota that Robert Towne was indeed not the Spine Thief.

  “Why don't you two just hug as well as shake one another's arms off,” she said of the two men greeting one another with mutual admiration and a kind of benevolent pissing contest as to which would stop shaking the other's hand first. To end it, Jessica pushed them into one another for a hug, saying, “After all we've been through, we could all use a group hug.”

  “I just got off the phone with Howland at Cellmark, and they're unsure,” Sharpe told them. “I've bugged this Dr. Howland there repeatedly, and Eriq has stationed men on their doorstep.”

  “What's taking so damn long?” pleaded Darwin.

  “Dr. Howland refuses to let anything out until she is satisfied, and apparently, it takes a great deal to satisfy her.”

  Jessica gave him a glare. “I hope you don't mean she came at you the way the governor of the great state of Oregon came at me.”

  “What's that supposed to mean?” he asked. “Did that man lay a hand on you?”

  She groaned. “No… no, but not for lack of trying. He is a sexual predator, it would seem, not above selling his principles for a cause, if a girl is willing. He likely seldom gets turned down, and it didn't please him any.”

  Darwin got in her face. “Why the hell didn't you tell me about this, Jessica?”

  “I don't want either of you two going into this meeting with Hughes like a pair of raging, insulted bulls, damn it. Just forget about that crap for now. Richard, we've worked out something that will spare Towne should the governor rebuke us again, and should the DNA evidence not materialize by tomorrow afternoon.”

  “What sort of duplicity are you planning, Jess?”

  “You know me and authority figures, and particularly assholes in authority… like Hughes and his lackey, Warden Donald Gwingault. Also a real charmer.”

  “I want to hear all about it.”

  When she and Richard climbed into the rear of the car, Darwin behind the wheel, Jessica's eyes met Darwin's in the rearview mirror, and she shrugged and said, “I could never keep a secret from Richard.” She then launched into her and Darwin's plan.

  “Stalling the execution isn't in the cards anymore, so far as I can see. No reprieve. Not with the way these people twist reality and facts, like they've done with news coming out of Chicago,” she told Richard.

  Richard's phone rang. He opened it. “Oh,
good, Dr. Howland from Cellmark,” he announced for the others. “Tell me you have good news for us.”

  Silence as Richard listened to the voice at the other end.

  “What? A lab mishap… spoiled test… had to start over? When did this all occur?”

  Again he listened, fuming. “So this is what you told Agent Santiva? And all along you've been stalling for time. Well now, Doctor, time is fast, fast running out here in Oregon.”

  He cut her off, afraid of what he might say next, afraid it might jeopardize any further attempt to get the DNA to them at the last.

  “More bad news,” commented Darwin.

  “Pour it on,” she agreed.

  “Some idiot in Howland's lab has, she fears, destroyed what little sample they had to work with, and she-heroically, she feels-has salvaged a minuscule microscopic spec of it from the bottom of the vial it had been transported in.”

  “Some fool photographed the sample on an electron microscope, no doubt,” said Jessica, trying to understand this lab “accident.” “That process will destroy any sample for further analysis.” “What does that mean for Robert?” asked Darwin, certainly knowing the answer.

  “It means that they lost another day,” said Richard. He then nervously cleared his throat and added, “It means you've got a hell of a lawsuit when… I mean if…”

  “We've still got the news out of Chicago for help,” said Jessica, “but I fear it is not going to be enough to dissuade this governor.”

  “As it turns out, Chicago authorities let Keith Orion walk, not having enough evidence on him,” Richard informed them.

  “Damn, you've got to be kidding,” said Darwin. “Didn't anyone look at his artwork? And he's got a crate with his name on it with a dead girl inside minus her spine, and… and shit!”

  “We've been so busy setting up meetings and getting shunted off,” Jessica said to Richard, “that we didn't hear this latest.”

  “Orion showed off to the crowd when released, and he gave a series of 'exclusive' press interviews.”

  “God, I hate that about our media. This has all been a boon to the sonofabitch's career,” Jessica complained through gritted teeth.

  Placing a hand in hers, Richard replied, “No doubt about his reveling in the attention. People are buying his work now as never before. Amazing but true. Kill somebody and you're fifteen minutes of fame is assured in the U.S. of A.”