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"Find her," Wohl ordered. "And keep me advised, step by step."
"Yes, sir."
FOURTEEN
"There are some other things I think we can safely say about this guy," Larkin said after Matt had gone. "For one thing, he's intelligent, and he's well educated. The two don't always go together. You'll notice that he correctly capitalizes all references to the deity. 'His instrument,' for example, has a capital 'H.'"
Sabara grunted.
"And there are no typos on either the letter or the envelope, which were typed on an IBM typewriter. One of those with the ball. So he both knows how to type and has access to an IBM typewriter. Which means probably in an office. Which would mean that he would also have access to a blank sheet of paper, and probably an envelope. He used instead a sheet of typing paper from one of those pads you buy in Woolworth's or McCrory's. There are traces of an animal-based adhesive on the top edge. Actually the bottom, which just means that after he ripped the sheet free, he put it in the typewriter upside down. And he used an envelope from the Post Office. Which probably means that he knows somebody was going to take a good close look at both the letter and the envelope and didn't want us to be able to find him by tracing the paper or envelope."
"Then why write the letter in the first place? Take that risk?" Sabara asked.
"Because he believes that he is a Christian, and is worried about the Vice President's soul," Larkin said. "Which brings us back to someone who thinks he's doing the Lord's work being a very dangerous character, indeed."
"We keep saying 'he,'" Wohl said, but it was a question.
'Two things. Both unscientific," Larkin replied. "Women don't normally do this sort of thing. And there is, in my judgment, a masculine character to the tone of the letter. It doesn't sound as if it's written by a female. But I could be wrong."
"Yeah," Wohl said thoughtfully.
"One more speculation," Larkin said. "'High explosives.' Technically, there are low-yield explosives and high-yield explosives. Maybe he knows the difference. That could suggest that this guy has some experience with explosives. It could just as easily mean, of course, that he doesn't know the difference, but just heard the term."
"But the whole letter suggests that he isn't thinking of taking a shot at the Vice President," Wohl said.
"Presuming, for the sake of argument, that you're right, that's a mixed blessing. Getting close enough to the Vice President to take a shot at him wouldn't be easy. Using explosives-and I don't think we can dismiss military ordnance, hand grenades, mines, that sort of thing-is something else. And since this guy is doing God's work, I don't think he's worrying about how many other people might have to be 'disintegrated.'"
"I don't suppose there's any chance of having the Vice President put off his visit until we can get our hands on this guy?" Wohl asked.
"No," Larkin said. "Not a chance."
"Has he seen this letter?"
Larkin shook his head, no.
"Well, you tell us, Charley," Wohl said. "How can we help?"
"That's a little delicate…"
"You'd rather discuss that in private, is that what you mean?"
Larkin nodded.
"Charley, anything that you want to say to me, you can say in front of these people," Wohl said.
Larkin hesitated, and then said, "You are like your dad, Peter. He once told me he never had anyone working for him he couldn't trust."
"There are some I trust less than others," Wohl said. "These I trust, period."
"Okay," Larkin said. "The word that gets back to me is that there is some bad feeling between the Police Department and the feds, the FBI in particular, but the feds generally."
"I can't imagine why anyone would think that," Wohl said, lightly sarcastic.
Larkin snorted.
"There's a story going aroun
d that both you, the Department, I mean, and the FBI were going after a big-time car thief. And the first time that either of you knew the other guys were working the job was when your cars ran into each other when you were picking him up."
