Whiplash
Page 89
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He was making himself a cup of tea while working on MAX in the kitchen, when the doorbell rang. He glanced at his Mickey Mouse watch. It was nearly ten o'clock. Because he was a cop, before he opened the door he called out, "Who is it?"
It was Jimmy Maitland, and he looked harried and tired, near the end of his rope.
"No coffee for you, sir," he said, and steered his boss to the sofa. Maitland nearly tripped over Astro, just emerging from beneath a big easy chair.
Maitland leaned down and picked him up, settled him on his leg, and to Astro's delight, he began lightly rubbing his ears. He let out a big sigh. "The Valenti case is going to be a monster. I've spent all evening with the forensics team looking at what's left of the steering linkage. It was pretty cleverly done, a small charge tied in to the speedometer. They're still looking for traceable components.
"I'm glad you're with us here on this, Savich, even if Sherlock is still up in Connecticut. You've done a good job already with that, caught Schiffer Hartwin cold with that planned Culovort shortage. They'll probably end up paying out a year's profit. Dice said chances are after they pay the fine, it's back to business as usual, like all the drug companies."
Savich looked down at his clasped hands between his knees. "It's the murderer I want."
"I don't blame you. It's better to have hope about something you can control, right?"
Savich nodded. "Give me a murderer over a drug company any day. I have to say it's all coming together. Sherlock's got the bit between her teeth. You know Sherlock, nothing's going to stop her."
Maitland smiled, then fell silent. Astro gave a little bark and Maitland rubbed his ears again.
Savich eyed his boss, waited. "Tell me," he said.
"I guess you haven't watched TV tonight?"
Savich shook his head. "After an early dinner, I played basketball with Sean until I put him to bed. I was working on MAX. What's happened now?"
"Remember we were hoping for some time before the press got wind the VP was involved in more than a simple crash? Well, that's not going to happen. They're already putting together Dana Frobisher's death and Valenti's crash as possible attempts on Senator David Hoffman's life. They're quoting 'a knowledgeable source.'"
"No big surprise. It was just a matter of time. Any idea who the 'source' is?"
Maitland stopped petting Astro. Astro gave a pitiable low moan and he started up again. "I was thinking someone in Hoffman's office, but I personally spoke to Corliss Rydle, his senior aide, and she swore she's continuing to avoid reporters and cameras. I asked her about the midnight visitor to Senator Hoffman, and she lowered her eyes to her shoes, embarrassed for her boss, I'd say. It was pretty clear she doesn't believe any of it, claimed no one knew a thing about that and never would, at least from her. She had no idea who had leaked to the media, but it'll come out eventually, it always does.
"So far, I'm thinking the media won't pick up on the woo-woo part of this deal anytime soon." He began to pet Astro faster. "I don't like how this might turn out, Savich. The vice president is clinging to life, but the doctors at Washington Memorial are still shaking their heads. The talking heads on TV have already got a short list for the new vice president. What did Hoffman's sons have to say?"
"They were surprised by the accident because Valenti was nearly a pro as a driver. When I suggested their father might have been the target, they bought right in on it, claimed there were a thousand people who might wish him harm, this after Benson had insulted his father, called him names, and whined until I wanted to kick him under the table."
"I'd just as soon not meet them, thank you very much," Maitland said.
Savich offered Mr. Maitland a cup of tea, but he turned it down. Astro was now splayed on his belly, four paws extended, while Maitland's hand swept over his back. Savich drank his own tea, and swung his leg thoughtfully. "I imagine the director has made a report to the president."
Maitland nodded. "Director Mueller called me, said no one wants to believe this leak about Senator Hoffman being the possible target-it's unverifiable, way out there, like some of those TV shows. He's not about to tell President Holley about Hoffman's dead wife visiting him, and communicating with you. And who knows? Just maybe Frobisher's poisoning and Valenti's crash have nothing to do with Senator Hoffman."
"You don't believe that for a second," Savich said.
"Well, no, of course not. As you'd expect, President Holley is saying he wants us to shake every tree for hunkered-down terrorists, but he knows the truth about the accident, knows it's highly unlikely a terrorist could even have gotten to the car. He also knows there's not a prayer of keeping it quiet for much longer, and wants it all resolved two hours ago. Mr. Mueller said he'd rarely seen the president so angry. He also asked Mr. Mueller a very good question: Who would want to assassinate the vice president of the United States?
It was Jimmy Maitland, and he looked harried and tired, near the end of his rope.
"No coffee for you, sir," he said, and steered his boss to the sofa. Maitland nearly tripped over Astro, just emerging from beneath a big easy chair.
Maitland leaned down and picked him up, settled him on his leg, and to Astro's delight, he began lightly rubbing his ears. He let out a big sigh. "The Valenti case is going to be a monster. I've spent all evening with the forensics team looking at what's left of the steering linkage. It was pretty cleverly done, a small charge tied in to the speedometer. They're still looking for traceable components.
"I'm glad you're with us here on this, Savich, even if Sherlock is still up in Connecticut. You've done a good job already with that, caught Schiffer Hartwin cold with that planned Culovort shortage. They'll probably end up paying out a year's profit. Dice said chances are after they pay the fine, it's back to business as usual, like all the drug companies."
Savich looked down at his clasped hands between his knees. "It's the murderer I want."
"I don't blame you. It's better to have hope about something you can control, right?"
Savich nodded. "Give me a murderer over a drug company any day. I have to say it's all coming together. Sherlock's got the bit between her teeth. You know Sherlock, nothing's going to stop her."
Maitland smiled, then fell silent. Astro gave a little bark and Maitland rubbed his ears again.
Savich eyed his boss, waited. "Tell me," he said.
"I guess you haven't watched TV tonight?"
Savich shook his head. "After an early dinner, I played basketball with Sean until I put him to bed. I was working on MAX. What's happened now?"
"Remember we were hoping for some time before the press got wind the VP was involved in more than a simple crash? Well, that's not going to happen. They're already putting together Dana Frobisher's death and Valenti's crash as possible attempts on Senator David Hoffman's life. They're quoting 'a knowledgeable source.'"
"No big surprise. It was just a matter of time. Any idea who the 'source' is?"
Maitland stopped petting Astro. Astro gave a pitiable low moan and he started up again. "I was thinking someone in Hoffman's office, but I personally spoke to Corliss Rydle, his senior aide, and she swore she's continuing to avoid reporters and cameras. I asked her about the midnight visitor to Senator Hoffman, and she lowered her eyes to her shoes, embarrassed for her boss, I'd say. It was pretty clear she doesn't believe any of it, claimed no one knew a thing about that and never would, at least from her. She had no idea who had leaked to the media, but it'll come out eventually, it always does.
"So far, I'm thinking the media won't pick up on the woo-woo part of this deal anytime soon." He began to pet Astro faster. "I don't like how this might turn out, Savich. The vice president is clinging to life, but the doctors at Washington Memorial are still shaking their heads. The talking heads on TV have already got a short list for the new vice president. What did Hoffman's sons have to say?"
"They were surprised by the accident because Valenti was nearly a pro as a driver. When I suggested their father might have been the target, they bought right in on it, claimed there were a thousand people who might wish him harm, this after Benson had insulted his father, called him names, and whined until I wanted to kick him under the table."
"I'd just as soon not meet them, thank you very much," Maitland said.
Savich offered Mr. Maitland a cup of tea, but he turned it down. Astro was now splayed on his belly, four paws extended, while Maitland's hand swept over his back. Savich drank his own tea, and swung his leg thoughtfully. "I imagine the director has made a report to the president."
Maitland nodded. "Director Mueller called me, said no one wants to believe this leak about Senator Hoffman being the possible target-it's unverifiable, way out there, like some of those TV shows. He's not about to tell President Holley about Hoffman's dead wife visiting him, and communicating with you. And who knows? Just maybe Frobisher's poisoning and Valenti's crash have nothing to do with Senator Hoffman."
"You don't believe that for a second," Savich said.
"Well, no, of course not. As you'd expect, President Holley is saying he wants us to shake every tree for hunkered-down terrorists, but he knows the truth about the accident, knows it's highly unlikely a terrorist could even have gotten to the car. He also knows there's not a prayer of keeping it quiet for much longer, and wants it all resolved two hours ago. Mr. Mueller said he'd rarely seen the president so angry. He also asked Mr. Mueller a very good question: Who would want to assassinate the vice president of the United States?
