Known Dead_ A Novel - Donald Harstad [48]
Well, I hadn’t really expected that they’d be worth much. But they were able to be used to tell the caliber, which was something.
‘‘So,’’ I said, ‘‘we have two shooters.’’
‘‘For all intents and purposes,’’ said Dr. Peters, ‘‘that’s right.’’ He looked thoughtful. ‘‘But that doesn’t mean that there were only two of them present.’’
Hester and I just looked at him.
‘‘I’ve been thinking about your ambush theory. I’m sure you’re right. It fits well.’’ He looked right at me. ‘‘As I’m sure you know, most ambushes are L-shaped, if done professionally. The X shape is ideal, of course, but seldom achieved.’’ He stopped talking.
I didn’t know if I should say anything or not, so I just kept my mouth shut. So did Hester.
‘‘But the L would require at least three participants, wouldn’t it? While the X requires a minimum of four, I suppose.’’
‘‘Yeah . . .’’ I said.
‘‘And if we presuppose these are true professionals, they would be certain to know this. So they would bring at least three, possibly more people.’’
‘‘Hmm,’’ said Hester.
‘‘But in the L, only one side usually fires, at least at first. Depending on the initial fire to drive the quarry toward the other leg of the L.’’
Silence again.
‘‘But if they’re not set, or at least not set in an immobile position, but are moving toward contact, they will try to keep something of the shape they wish . . .’’
I wasn’t about to say a word.
‘‘Let me call someone I know,’’ he said abruptly. ‘‘I think we may be on to something here.’’
Twelve
ON TUESDAY, the 16th, we had a briefing for the investigative team. Every assigned officer was there, and we began to put together a case. Believe me when I say ‘‘began.’’ The upshot of the meeting was that we had two shooters. Confirmed. Minimum. We were able to pretty well eliminate Howler and Marks, at least from a list of shooters. We were about evenly divided as to whether or not they might know who had done it. The dope guys were strangely silent regarding anything of substance. Altogether sort of a down meeting. And, if you could believe them, everybody said they were unable to locate Marks. I, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure that the Feds weren’t stashing him in some safe house somewhere. If they were, it would fit into their criteria for ‘‘need to know,’’ and I was sure I didn’t qualify for the right list.
As the meeting broke up, Agent Dahl asked to see Hester and me for a minute.
‘‘We’d like to meet with just you two tomorrow.’’
‘‘What’s up?’’
‘‘I better let Nichols say,’’ he said.
After that, I was in a much better mood. It appeared that DEA/DNE had something important. Thank God, I thought, because we in General Crim. sure didn’t. Oh, yeah. Another down thought. The damned meeting had taken up so much time and energy I don’t think anybody got anything done that furthered the case that whole day. I know I didn’t.
Wednesday, the 17th, began as a day full of promise. I hit the office at 0830, ready to greet the narcotics team. Hester was there by 0900. We sat around for almost forty-five minutes before dispatch told us that Dahl had just called, and that they were going to be a little late. Dahl and Nichols walked in at 1145.
Off to a snappy start.
Nichols was pretty straightforward.
‘‘We have indications of some pretty strange involvement here,’’ he said. ‘‘I don’t like it.’’
‘‘What kind of involvement?’’ asked Hester.
‘‘I don’t know,’’ he said, spreading his hands. ‘‘There seems to be something moving around in the background, but we don’t have any good shit rising to the top here. I mean . . .’’ He stopped. ‘‘Damn.’’ He grinned. ‘‘How about I start again?’’
‘‘Fine with me,’’ I said.
‘‘Right. Now, what we have is this: there is an indication of well-equipped, well-trained or experienced shooters acting in concert, very effectively, very efficiently.’’ He looked at us. ‘‘Okay so far?’’
‘‘Yep.’’
‘‘We know of, oh, maybe three or four groups who would be able to put together a unit like that on short notice. That means,’’ he said, ‘‘that they don’t have to go outside the group to find people like