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Simesky assessed the situation. He reflected that Harutyun was a true rube; he'd probably never fired his weapon in the line of duty. Simesky, on the other hand, had killed eight people in his life and gone to bed each night afterward with a clear conscience.
He glanced back. "What are you talking about? I'm just trying to protect the congressman from that killer. I heard gunshots. I haven't done anything! Are you crazy?"
"I'm not going to tell you again. Drop the weapon."
Simesky was thinking, I have my Cayman Islands account. I have any one of the Keyholders' private jets at my disposal.
Just fight your way out. Turn and shoot. He'll be totally freaked out, he'll panic. Fucking small-town cop.
Simesky started to turn, keeping the gun low, unthreatening. "I just--"
He heard a stunning bang, felt a burn in his chest.
The sensations were repeated a moment later. But both the sound of the second explosion and the tap on his skin were much softer than the first.
Chapter 59
"BOTH DEAD?"
"That's right," Harutyun told Sheriff Anita Gonzalez.
/> Ten people were in her office at the FMCSO, which made it pretty cramped.
P. K. Madigan was back, though still unofficially, because it had, after all, been his information that had led to uncovering the plot.
Also present was a public affairs officer from the county. Dance noted that Harutyun seemed infinitely pleased at this--somebody else to handle the press conference. Which was going to be big. Very big.
Lincoln Rhyme, Thom Reston and Amelia Sachs were here too, along with Michael O'Neil and Tim Raymond, the congressman's own security man. In the interest of safety Congressman Davis was onboard his private jet, heading back to Los Angeles.
Anita Gonzalez asked, "Any other perps working with Simesky and Babbage?"
Dance replied, "I'm sure there are. But they are--well, were--the only active participants on the scene so far. Our office and Amy Grabe, the FBI's agent in charge in San Francisco, are tracing associates and connections."
Michael O'Neil said, "There seems to be some affiliation with that outfit they call the Keyholders. Some political action group."
"Political action? Hell, they're assholes," Madigan muttered, digging into his ice cream. "Wackos."
Lincoln Rhyme said, "But rich and well-connected wackos."
"Did either of them say anything before they died?" Gonzalez asked.
Tim Raymond said, "No. Myra was walking toward me when I got the text from Agent Dance to treat her like a hostile." He shrugged matter-of-factly. "I lifted my weapon when she was about thirty feet away. She was hiding a forty-five under her coat and she engaged. Afraid I couldn't take any chances." He was shaken but not, Dance assessed, from the shootout; rather by the fact that he'd missed the threat posed by the assassins--who had also been masquerading as his friends and coworkers.
Harutyun said, "And Simesky didn't seem to believe me when I said, 'I'm not telling you again.'" He was as calm as ever, displaying no effects whatsoever from killing the congressman's aide.
"And Edwin?" the sheriff asked.
"We found him in the back of the SUV Myra stole. The stun gun that she used was pretty powerful and he's doped up. But the medics said he's fine."
"How'd you figure it out, Kathryn?" Madigan asked.
"It wasn't just me." She nodded toward Lincoln Rhyme and Amelia Sachs.
The criminalist said offhandedly, "Combination of things. Your man Charlie, by the way, is pretty good. Don't let him come visit me in New York. I might steal him away."
"He's done that before," Thom Reston said, earning a raised eyebrow from Rhyme, which told Dance that he was quite serious about offering Shean a job.
Since the criminalist wasn't explaining his contribution further, Dance did. "There were some questions raised about what Charlie's crime scene people found at the convention center and behind Edwin's house, where he claimed somebody'd been spying on him."
