Without remorse - Tom Clancy [176]
Kelly stood and walked back to the control chair. He didn't want to look the little bastard in the face any longer. He might really lose control, and he couldn't risk that.
'Tom, I think you may be right after all' Ryan said.
According to his driver's license - already checked out: no arrest record, but a lengthy list of traffic violations - Richard Oliver Farmer was twenty-four and would grow no older. He had expired from a single knife thrust into the chest, through the pericardium, fully transiting the heart. The size of the knife wound - ordinarily such traumatic insults closed up until they became difficult for the layman to see - indicated that the assailant had twisted the blade as much as the space between the ribs allowed. It was a large wound, indicating a blade roughly two inches in width. More important, there was additional confirmation.
'Not real smart,' the ME announced. Ryan and Douglas both nodding, looking. Mr Farmer had been wearing a white cotton, button-down-collar shirt. There was a suit jacket, too, hanging on a doorknob. Whoever had killed him had wiped the knife on the shirt. Three wipes, it appeared, and one of them had left a permanent impression of the knife, marked in the blood of the victim, who had a revolver in his belt but hadn't had a chance to use it. Another victim of skill and surprise, but, in this case, less circumspection. The junior of the pair pointed to one of the stains with his pencil.
'You know what it is?' Douglas asked. It was rhetorical; he answered his own question immediately. 'It's a Ka-Bar, standard-issue Marine combat knife. I own one myself.'
'Niice edge on it, too,' the ME told them. 'Very clean cut, almost surgical in the way it went through the skin. He must have sliced the heart just about in half. A very accurate thrust, gentlemen, the knife came in perfectly horizontal so it didn't jam on the ribs. Most people think the heart's on the left. Our friend knew better. Only one penetration. He knew exactly what he was doing.'
'One more, Em. Armed criminal. Our friend got in close and did him so fast -'
'Yeah, Tom, I believe you now.' Ryan nodded and went upstairs to join the other detective team. In the front bedroom was a pile of men's clothes, a cloth satchel with a ton of cash in it, a gun, and a knife. A mattress with semen stains, some still moist. Also a lady's purse. So much evidence for the younger men to catalog. Blood types from the semen stains. Complete ID on all three - they assumed three - people who had been here. Even a car outside to run down. Finally something like a normal murder case. Latent prints would be all over the place. The photographers had already shot a dozen rolls of film. But for Ryan and Douglas the matter was already settled in its curious way.
'You know that guy Farber over at Hopkins?'
'Yeah, Em, he worked the Gooding case with Frank Allen. I set the date up. He's real smart,' Douglas allowed. 'A little peculiar, but smart. I have to be in court this afternoon, remember?'
'Okay, I think I can handle it. I owe you a beer, Tom. You figured this one faster than I did.'
'Well, thanks, maybe I can be a lieutenant, too, some-day.'
Ryan laughed, fishing out a cigarette as he walked down the stairs.
'You going to resist?' Kelly asked with a smile. He'd just come back into the salon after tying up to the quay.
'Why should I help you with anything?' Вillу asked with what he thought to be defiance.
'Okay.' Kelly drew the Ka-Bar and held it next to a particularly sensitive place. 'We can start right now if you want.'
The whole body shriveled, but one part more than the others. 'Okay, okay!'
'Good. I want you to learn a little from this. I don't want