The Devils Teardrop

that too.”
    And more than that too . . .
    And Kennedy had thought things couldn’t get any worse after the Board of Education scandal.
    “And so far,” Kennedy said, “no leads. Nothing.”
    So far twenty-three people dead.
    So far all they knew was that this psychopath was going to try to kill more people at 4 o’clock and more after that and more after that.
    Outside the window the eerily warm air stirred. Five lacy brown leaves twisted to the ground.
    He turned back to his desk. Looked at the brass clock. The time was 10:25.
    Lanier said, “I say we don’t pay. I mean, it seems to me that when he finds out the FBI’s involved he might just balk and head for the hills.”
    Agent Lukas offered, “Bet he had an idea the Bureau’d be involved before he started this.”
    Kennedy picked up on her sarcasm. Lanier, again, remained oblivious.
    The congressman continued, speaking to her, “I didn’t think you were in favor of paying.”
    “I’m not.”
    “But you also think he’ll keep shooting if we don’t pay.”
    “Yes,” she answered.
    “Well . . .” Lanier lifted his hands. “Isn’t that inconsistent? You don’t think we should pay . . . but he’s going to keep killing.”
    “That’s right.”
    “That doesn’t give us much guidance.”
    Lukas said, “He’s a man who’s prepared to kill as many people as he needs to, just to make money. You can’t negotiate with somebody like that.”
    “Will paying make your job harder?” Kennedy asked. “Harder to catch him?”
    “No,” she said. A moment later: “So,” she asked, “are you going to pay or not?”
    The desk lamp shone on the note. To Kennedy it seemed that the piece of paper glowed like white fire.
    “No, we’re not paying,” Lanier said. “We’re taking a hard line. We’re standing tough on terrorism. We’re—”
    “I’m paying,” said Kennedy.
    “You sure?” Lukas asked him, not seeming to care one way or the other.
    “I’m sure. Do your best to catch them. But the city’s going to pay.”
    “Hold on,” the congressman said, “not so fast.”
    “It’s not fast at all,” Kennedy snapped. “I’ve been considering it since I got this goddamn thing.” He gestured at the fiery note.
    “Jerry,” Lanier began, laughing sourly, “you don’t have the right to make that decision.”
    “Actually he does,” said Wendell Jefferies, who could append the letters J.D. and LL.M. after his name.
    “Congress has jurisdiction,” Lanier said petulantly.
    Cage said to Lanier, “No, it doesn’t. It’s exclusively the District’s call. I asked the attorney general on my way over here.”
    “But we’ve got control of the money,” Lanier snapped. “And I’m not going to authorize it.”
    Kennedy glanced at Wendy Jefferies, who thought for a moment. “Twenty million? We can draw on our line of credit for discretionary spending.” He laughed. “But it’ll have to come out of the Board of Education reserve. They’re the only account that’s majorly liquid.”
    “That’s the only place?”
    “That’s it. It’s debt or nickels and dimes everywhere else.”
    Kennedy shook his head. How goddamn ironic—the money to save the city was available only because someone had cut corners and landed the administration in the middle of a huge scandal.
    “Jerry, this is ridiculous,” Lanier said. “Even if they get these men somebody else could try the same thing next month. Never deal with terrorists. That’s the rule in Washington. Don’t you read Department of State advisories?”
    “No, I don’t,” Kennedy said. “Nobody sends ’em to me. Wendy, get started on that money. And Agent Lukas . . . go catch this son of a bitch.”
    * * *
    The sandwich was okay.
    Not great.
    Gilbert Havel decided that after he got the money he was going to the Jockey Club and having a real steak. A filet mignon. And a bottle of champagne.
    He finished his coffee and kept his eye on the entrance to City Hall.
    The chief of police of the District had come and gone quickly. A dozen reporters and camera crews had beenturned away from the front door, directed toward an entrance on the side of the building. They hadn’t looked happy. Then a couple of what were clearly FBI agents had disappeared into City Hall some time ago, a man and a woman, and hadn’t emerged. It was definitely a Bureau operation. Well, he’d known it would be.
    So far no surprises.
    Havel looked at his watch. Time to go to the safe house, call