The Racketeer Page 0,56

remember the FBI agents telling him that they have a ballistics report that matches one of his guns to the crime scene, and there is supposedly a boot print of some sort. Plus, there are witnesses who place him in the vicinity at the time of the murders. Again, some of this is vague."

"When can you see the confession?"

"I'll meet with the U.S. Attorney as soon as possible, but nothing will happen fast. It might be weeks before I see a written confession and the video, as well as the other evidence they plan to use."

"If he asked for a lawyer, why didn't they stop the interrogation?"

"That's a great question. Usually, though, the cops will swear that the defendant waived his rights and did not ask for a lawyer. His word against theirs. In a case this important, you can bet the FBI agents will swear to hell and back that Quinn never mentioned a lawyer. Just like they'll swear they did not threaten him, or lie to him, or promise him a deal. They got their confession, now they're trying to build a case with physical evidence. If they find nothing, then the confession is all they have."

"Is it enough?"

"Oh yes."

"I don't believe this. Quinn's not stupid. He would never agree to an interrogation."

"Has he ever killed anyone before?"

"Not that I know of. We have other people who do that sort of thing."

"Why did he escape from prison?"

"You ever been to prison?"

"No."

"Neither have I, but I know lots of guys who've served time. Everybody wants out."

"I suppose," Shiver said. "You ever heard of a guy named Malcolm Bannister?"

"No."

"Quinn says they served time together at Frostburg and that he's the guy who's behind these accusations; says he and Bannister were friends and talked at length about Judge Fawcett and his dirty work. He's really bitter at Bannister."

"When can I see my brother?"

"Not until Saturday, regular visitation. I'll go back to the jail this afternoon with a copy of the indictment. I can pass along any messages if you'd like."

"Sure, tell him to keep his mouth shut."

"I'm afraid it's too late for that."
Chapter 20
The details are vague and unlikely to become clearer. Pat Surhoff is willing to tell me that the clinic is a part of the U.S. Army hospital at Fort Carson, but that would be hard to deny. He cautiously says that the clinic specializes in RAM - radical appearance modification - and is used by several agencies of the federal government. The plastic surgeons are some of the best and have worked on a lot of faces that might otherwise get blown off if not radically modified. I grill him just to watch him squirm, but he does not divulge much else. After my surgery, I will convalesce here for two months before moving on.

My first appointment is with a therapist of some variety who wants to make sure I'm ready for the jolting experience of changing not only names but faces as well. She's pleasant and thoughtful, and I easily convince her that I'm eager to move on.

The second meeting is with two doctors, both male, and a female nurse. The woman is needed for the feminine perspective of how I will look afterward. It doesn't take me long to realize that these three are very good at what they do. Using sophisticated software, they are able to take my face and make almost any change. The eyes are crucial here, they say more than once. Change the eyes and you change everything. Sharpen the nose a bit. Leave the lips alone. Some Botox in the folds of the cheeks should work. Definitely shave the head and keep it that way. For almost two hours we fiddle and tinker with the new face of Max Baldwin.

In the hands of less experienced surgeons, this might be a gut-wrenching experience. For the past twenty-five years, all of my adult life, I have looked basically the same, my face shaped by genetics, weathered by the years, and, luckily, unblemished by wounds or injuries. It's a nice, solid face that's served me well, and to suddenly ditch it forever is no small step. My new friends say there is no need to change anything, only a few ways to improve. A nip here, a tuck there, a bit of tightening and straightening, and, voila, a new version that's every bit as handsome and much safer. I assure them I'm much more concerned with safety than vanity, and they readily agree. They've