The Devils Teardrop

movement, centered in Haight-Ashbury. I checked out their philosophy and history, and it turns out they took their name from a group in England in the seventeenth century. And they were a lot more radical. They advocated abolishing private ownership of land. Here’s what’s significant. They were mostly economic and social but they allied themselves with another group, which was political and more active—sometimes militant. They were called the ‘True Levelers.’”
    “‘Levelers,’” Cage muttered. “That’s a damn spooky name too.”
    Hardy continued. “They objected to control of thepeople by an upper-class elite and by a central government.”
    “But what does it mean for us?” Lukas asked.
    Hardy said, “It might help us find the last target. What would he want to hit to quote level our capitalistic society?”
    Parker said, “Before we can answer that we need to know why he’s got it in for society.”
    “Religious nut?” Geller said. “Remember the crucifix?”
    “Could be,” Evans said. “But most religious zealots wouldn’t want money; they’d want a half hour on CNN.”
    “Maybe he had a grudge,” Parker said.
    “Sure. Revenge.” Lukas said this.
    “Somebody hurt him,” Parker said. “And he wants to get even.”
    Evans nodded. “It’s making sense.”
    “But who? Who hurt him?” Hardy mused, staring again at the ghostly extortion note.
    “He got fired?” Cage suggested. “Disgruntled worker.”
    “No,” Evans said, “a psychotic might kill for that but he wasn’t psychotic. He was too smart and controlled.”
    Geller rasped, “Big business, big corporations, fat cats . . .”
    “Wait,” Hardy said, “if those were his targets wouldn’t he be in New York, not Washington?”
    “He was,” Cage pointed out. “White Plains.”
    But Hardy shook his head. “No, remember—White Plains, Boston, Philly? Those were just trial runs for him. This is his grand finale.”
    “Government,” Parker said. “ That’s why he’s here.”
    Hardy nodded. “And the Diggers objected to centralgovernment. So maybe it isn’t upper-class society at all.” He glanced at Evans. “But the federal government.”
    Lukas said, “That’s it. It’s got to be.”
    Parker: “The government was responsible for something that hurt him.” Looking over the team. “Any thoughts on what?”
    “Ideology?” Cage wondered aloud. “He’s a communist or part of a right-wing militia cell.”
    Evans shook his head. “No, he would’ve delivered a manifesto by now. It’s more personal than that.”
    Lukas and Hardy caught each other’s eyes. It seemed to Parker that they came up with an identical thought at the same time. It was the detective who said, “The death of somebody he loved.”
    Lukas nodded.
    “Could be,” the psychologist offered.
    “Okay,” Cage said. “What could the scenario’ve been? Who died? Why?”
    “Execution?” Hardy suggested.
    Cage shook his head. “Hardly ever see federal capital crimes. They’re mostly state.”
    “Coast guard rescue goes bad,” Geller suggested.
    “Far-fetched,” Lukas said.
    Hardy tried again, “Government car or truck involved in a crash, postal worker shooting spree, Park Service accident . . . diplomats . . .”
    “Military,” Cage suggested. “Most deaths involving the federal government are probably military related.”
    “But,” Lukas said, “there must be hundreds of fatalities every year in the armed forces. Was it an accident? A training exercise? Combat?”
    “Desert Storm?” Cage suggested.
    “How old was the unsub?” Parker asked.
    Lukas grabbed the medical examiner’s preliminary report. She read, looked up. “Mid-forties.”
    Black . . .
    Then Parker understood. He said, “The black wall!”
    Lukas nodded. “The Vietnam Memorial.”
    “Someone he knew,” Hardy said, “was killed in ’Nam. Brother, sister. Maybe his wife was a nurse.”
    Cage said, “But that was thirty years ago. Could something like this resurface now?”
    “Oh, sure,” Evans said. “If your unsub didn’t work through his anger in therapy it’s been festering. And New Year’s Eve’s a time for resolutions and people taking bold action—even destructive action. There’ll be more suicides tonight than on any other night of the year.”
    “Oh, Jesus,” Lukas said.
    “What?”
    “I just realized—the Memorial’s on the Mall. There’re going to be two hundred thousand people there. For the fireworks.