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Carlucci looked thoughtfully at Coughlin a long moment, then at Payne, then back at Coughlin. He grunted and put down his china mug with a loud thunk.
“For the record, Denny, color me not completely convinced. Maybe it’s because I recently spent so much time trying—key word ‘trying’—to dissuade the media that we have a loose cannon in our police department.” He exhaled audibly. “But I do know better than to micromanage the people in whom I have absolute trust.”
With a deadly serious face, he looked at Payne.
“Just try not to add to the goddamn body count. Got that, Marshal? I don’t want to have to answer any more questions from the damned press about you.”
Payne nodded. “Yessir. Duly noted, sir.”
Carlucci met his eyes and added, “That doesn’t mean that I don’t support you in what were righteous shootings. You were doing your job, and you did it well.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Okay, everybody have a seat,” Carlucci then said. “Let’s hear what you’ve got on the pop-and-drops, Matt.”
“Yes, sir,” Payne said. “But, as you noticed, Tony and I have been up all night. I can’t speak for Tony, but I could use some caffeine.”
“I’ll get ’em,” Harris said, heading across the room as the others sat down at the conference table.
[FOUR]
Sergeant Matt Payne drained his second cup of coffee, then made a grand sweeping gesture at one of the banks of TVs.
On its screens were images of the first five dead fugitives—both their Wanted sheets and crime-scene photos from where they’d been “dropped”—as well as detailed maps and lists of data showing where the bad guys had lived, where they had committed their crimes, and, ultimately, where they had been found dead.
He looked at Mayor Jerry Carlucci and said, “And that is essentially what I put together from the files of the first five pop-and-drops. There’s no question that they were targeted killings by the same doer. But the new ones from last night don’t quite fit the profile.”
“ ‘Targeted killings’?” the mayor repeated.
Payne nodded. “Today’s buzzword for ‘assassination.’”
Carlucci made a sour face. “Let’s stick with ‘targeted killings,’ in the statement and elsewhere. Or even just ‘murders by perps unknown.’ At least for now.”
He looked around the ECC conference table, and everyone nodded agreeably.
“You said,” Carlucci went on, “that with the exception of one of the first five, all were dropped by the same doer at the district PD closest to the critter’s Last Known Address. And all had the same MO?”
Payne pointed to one of the TVs. “Yes, sir. That’s shown on Number 8. All were bound at their ankles and wrists. All shot either in the chest or head. And all with the same doer’s fingerprints. Which makes us”—he glanced at Tony Harris—“believe that we will find he’s also responsible for at least two of the three dropped last night. He left prints everywhere. Prints and piss.”
Carlucci cocked his head. “Did you say piss?”
When Payne explained about the “gallons” of piss all over the lawyer’s office, Carlucci shook his head and said, “If I’d known, I might have contributed. Never did like that Gartner.”
Matt chuckled.
Carlucci went on, “So, piss and prints. Could be the doer’s just careless or stupid—or worse.”
“Or maybe he wants to get caught?” Harris offered.
Payne raised an eyebrow. “Maybe. He’s damn sure leaving ample opportunity for that to happen. Just a matter of time . . .”
“So,” Carlucci said, “again, all we have for sure is one doer linked to the first five pop-and-drops—”
“That’s correct,” Payne said.
“—and maybe at least two of last night’s three—the two who were shot—if we find that the prints on them match those prints on the first five. Same for the third, even though he wasn’t shot.”
“Exactly,” Payne said.
