Lopez looked at the file in her hands and felt an almost supernatural tingle rippling down her spine.
“I posted information to the ICMP about a man found dead in the capital two days ago, a scientist by the name of—”
“Joseph Coogan?” asked the voice.
“How did you know that name?” Lopez asked in surprise.
“What’s your connection to this?”
“Lucas Tyrell is my partner. We’ve been working on this case for the past forty-eight hours or so.”
There was a pause on the line. “What sort of case?”
“Homicide that looked like an overdose but the pathology didn’t figure.”
“What was the discrepancy?”
“Too complicated to go into without the paperwork, but Coogan appeared to have died after some kind of unexplained medical procedure performed by a Damon Sheviz.”
“Was that analysis obtained during autopsy, something to do with traces of excess hydrogen sulphide in the blood?”
Lopez stood bolt upright.
“It was, along with signs of hypothermia and altered blood groups.”
The voice on the other end of the line became equally agitated.
“I think that we need to talk. I’ve been in touch with our embassy in Israel. It would appear that wherever Mr. Sheviz goes he leaves a trail of bodies behind him. We’ve also got some evidence of a company owned by the American Evangelical Alliance called MACE, purchasing and importing medical equipment into Israel that doesn’t correspond with their stated research programs, things like heart-bypass machines.”
Nicola Lopez could barely suppress the smile that broke out on her face as she grabbed a pen.
She quickly wrote down Jarvis’s details and hung up. Before she had even a chance to think about what had just happened, Larry Pitt, one of the junior officers in her division charged with administration duties, walked up to her desk and tossed a file in front of her.
“History on Casey Jeffs that you asked for,” he said casually. “Didn’t have enough time to grab all the files for your PDA earlier. Interesting guy.”
Lopez picked the file up as Pitt strolled away, opening it to find two pages of information, the first filled with what she already knew. As she read the second, however, her jaw fell slack and a sudden premonition of doom swamped her like a heavy blanket.
Lopez reached into her pocket for her cell phone, quick-dialing Kaczynski’s number, but the engaged tone cut her off. She rang off and tried Tyrell instead. Another recorded message droned in her ear.
Lopez leaped out of her chair and ran through the office until she caught up with Pitt.
“Larry, you seen Kaczynski?”
“He left about an hour ago,” Pitt said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder.
“Shit.”
Lopez knew that she had to get to Tyrell before he did something he would regret.
“Get on a terminal. I need Casey Jeff’s home address!”
ANACOSTIA, WASHINGTON DC
Casey Jeffs shook Tyrell’s hand and regarded him with a serene expression as they sat down opposite each other in the living room of Casey’s small apartment.
“What can I do f’ya, Detective?”
The apartment was devoid of excess furniture or trinkets. A simple crucifix dominated one wall of the lounge, and there was no television or music system in the room.
“You’ve a nice place here, Casey,” Tyrell said, looking around. “Been here long?”
“Sixteen years,” Casey replied, “ever since I’ve worked at the hospital.”
Tyrell retrieved a photograph from his pocket. “Do you recognize this man?”
Casey looked down at the black-and-white image.
“No.”
“His name is Damon Sheviz, and we believe he is responsible for a number of murders in Washington DC and in Israel.”
The Texan shifted as though he were being prodded with hot needles.
“What’s this got to do with me?”
“We think that there may be a connection between this man and Pastor Kelvin Patterson.”
“The pastor?” Casey asked, frowning.
Tyrell looked at the man’s expression and judged his apparent confusion to be genuine. He would need a different tack, and with Casey Jeffs he reckoned that brazenly revealing his knowledge might tease out a confession more quickly than more surreptitious means.
“How come you work at the hospital, instead of for your brother, Casey?”
“He runs a big corporation,” Casey said proudly. “Byron’s in Israel signing a big deal right now.”
“Is he now?” Tyrell replied, lifting one eyebrow.
Casey’s expression quivered as though he had woken from a brief nap. “How did you know about my brother?”
“I know a lot of things, Casey,” Tyrell murmured. “Byron keeps you a secret. Have you ever wondered why?”
Casey’s expression remained stoic, as though he were unable or unwilling to consider the complexities the question provoked.
“I ain’t given it much thought,” he replied awkwardly.