Known Dead_ A Novel - Donald Harstad [136]
And so grind the wheels of justice. Brilliant maneuver on Hester’s part, and we now had the front part of a time frame.
Now, for an estimate of the threat. That was mostly Volont’s area, although, having seen the arms cache at Wittman’s, we were all pretty sure the threat level was pretty damned high.
Volont said he thought that Gabriel would be able to field a unit of five to six reliable people within a week, maybe twice that many after that. That meant that we had to narrow the ‘‘Save Nola’’ window and do it publicly. He also thought that, the way that Gabriel preferred to work, he’d have to do a reconnaissance of the jail area. He’d want to get our routine down right, and that would take two days. If he struck the jail, that’s how it would go.
If, on the other hand, he decided to take her away during a court hearing, we would have a more difficult problem. Scouting the courthouse would be a piece of cake, and getting people in there would be even easier. Even with security in place. One of those rockets in the front door, for instance, and security would just no longer be a problem.
He doubted that they’d try for her while she was in transit. Not that it would be at all difficult but there was a better chance for her to get injured or killed if something went wrong while trying to stop a security van. If we were right at all, we had to assume that he loved her.
So . . . routine protection for transport. Well, routine for someone of Nola’s stature. Great, but subtle, precautions at the courthouse and the jail.
‘‘Where do we want him to strike?’’ asked Volont.
‘‘Pardon?’’
‘‘The difference between good security and excellent security,’’ he said, ‘‘is this: Good security warns you, and may even prevent an occurrence. Excellent security, on the other hand, also channels the intruder to just where you want him.’’
‘‘The jail,’’ I said, without having to consider it. ‘‘No civilians to worry about.’’
‘‘Good choice,’’ he said. ‘‘Festung Houseman.’’
The way to arrange that, it turned out, was to have obvious, busy, and daunting security at the courthouse. Almost completely hidden security at the jail. An ambush, as it were. I was a little uncomfortable about that, but didn’t say anything. We were fast leaving my area of expertise now, and I wasn’t at all sure about what was the correct move. That happens to you when you suddenly deal with the real physical power of the federal system. I mean, you can sort of visualize what they can do. But when it comes time to not only see it but use it . . . well, overwhelming is a good word.
Volont put in a cautionary word. ‘‘Remember,’’ he said, ‘‘this man is not like your usual criminal. He’s not psychotic. He’s certainly not some sort of mad serial killer.’’ He looked out the window at the jail. ‘‘He’s a soldier. Maladjusted, perhaps, but a soldier. He does not kill for the pleasure of it, but only when necessary to further the mission.’’ He looked back at me. ‘‘So there is no familiar criminal motive that will set him off. Mission, and perhaps some ideology. But mission, always mission. Don’t forget that.’’
‘‘Okay,’’ I said. ‘‘So we have to predict his mission. But the soldier business. He’s not obeying orders, is he? I mean, not from some sort of political leader or anything?’’
Volont thought a second. ‘‘No.’’
‘‘So he sort of determines his own mission, his own assessment of what’s necessary?’’
‘‘True,’’ said Volont. ‘‘But very much in keeping with the doctrine he picked up in military service.’’
I thought that one over. ‘‘This is going to be even more interesting.’’
‘‘Why’s that?’’ asked Volont idly.
‘‘Well,’’ I said, ‘‘his troops will be following orders. Are they the same quality as Gabriel?’’
‘‘We’ll have to see, won’t we?’’ he said. ‘‘I can tell you this . . . the one time I know of where Gabriel was heavily involved, his soldiers weren’t quite as good as he could have wished.’’
At any rate, I was absolutely certain