Covenant (51 page)

“I’m beginning to,” Tyrell murmured thoughtfully. “Senator, the battlefield surgery could be a cover for these experiments.”

Senator Black looked at him for a minute as his brain processed the allegation.

“That’s ridiculous,” he stammered.

“Ignoring the connection would be ridiculous, Senator, for more reasons than one.”

“This could be detrimental to my campaign,” Black uttered as he made the same connection, then rubbed a hand across his face. “I should disassociate with them. I should have done it years ago.”

“That might be premature,” Tyrell said. “It might alert either Patterson or his accomplices to our investigation. We’ve already had one witness die under suspicious circumstances.”

“Suspicious?” the senator echoed in alarm.

“I would seriously suggest that you do not approach Patterson in any capacity, Senator,” Tyrell cautioned.

The senator sat for a moment, and then shook his head.

“I can’t let this get out to the American people,” he said finally. “It could upset the entire primary campaign and throw the party into confusion. If we lose our way now, we’ll never get our momentum back before the election.”

Tyrell saw his chance slipping away.

“We could preempt any political fallout, Senator, if we act now. Would you be willing to accompany me to the district attorney’s office? With you there I feel certain that I can obtain a prosecution, which would alleviate any pressure on your campaign, but alone I’m not able to present a case.”

Senator Black sat for a long moment and then looked at a copy of the United States Constitution affixed to the wall nearby.

“You’re sure that your case is sound, that the DA will be open to a prosecution? It’s a hell of a chance for me to take.”

“I’m sure,” Tyrell said. “All it needs is your support.”

The senator took a breath and was about to speak when the glass doors to the office burst open behind Tyrell with a loud crack, and he whirled in his seat to see four Capitol police officers rush into the office.

“Detective Tyrell, would you come with us, please?”

Tyrell struggled to his feet as the officers surrounded him. “What the hell’s this?”

Before the police could answer him, Captain Louis Powell swept into the suite.

“This comes to an end, now,” Powell growled.

Tyrell felt a plunging sense of dismay sink through him. “Lopez,” he said softly.

Powell turned to Senator Black.

“My apologies, Senator, but your time has been wasted.”

“I’m not wasting anybody’s time!” Tyrell shot back at the captain.

Senator Black raised his hands.

“Gentlemen, please. What the hell is going on here?”

Captain Powell gestured to Tyrell.

“Detective Tyrell has been ordered off this case by the District commissioner herself. It’s based on dubious evidence, unconvincing methods, and has been dismissed by every single authority involved, including the FBI.”

Tyrell struggled to keep himself under control.

“People have died and the case has been closed despite the evidence, not because of it.”

“The evidence you’ve acquired is inadmissible,” Powell said before turning again to the senator. “With your permission, Senator.”

Senator Black looked from Tyrell to Powell and back, and his survivalist political instinct took over.

“I’m sorry, Detective, but I can’t help you.”

Powell grabbed Tyrell’s arm, pulling him out of the suite. Tyrell looked over his shoulder at the senator.

“Stay away from Patterson,” he said as he was manhandled out of the suite.

Powell released him as the suite doors closed behind them.

“What the goddamn hell do you think you’re doing here?” the captain demanded.

“It’s something to do with a security company, MACE,” Tyrell said quickly. “They and the Evangelical Alliance are planning something in Israel. Get in touch with Interpol and—”

“The hell I will,” Powell said, cutting Tyrell off. “Your badge and your weapon.”

Tyrell felt the bottom drop out of his world. “You’re kidding me?”

Powell held out his hand.

“You looked at where we’re standing, Tyrell? You thought about the fact that it might not be your ideas that are crazy but your way of following them? Hand them over or I’ll have departmental charges made against you through Commissioner Devereux.”

“You’re making a mistake.”

“Maybe,” Powell said. “But you’ve already made yours by putting yourself where you shouldn’t damned well be.”

Tyrell was about to say something when his train of cognition slammed to a halt.
Putting yourself where you shouldn’t damned well be.
An image of Daniel Neville’s room at the hospital drifted through the field of his awareness and he gasped as a flood of revelations rushed through his mind.

“Damn, I’ve been an idiot,” he said out loud.

“Smartest thing you’ve said all day,” Powell snapped. “Badge and weapon.”

Tyrell focused again on Powell and handed his service pistol over as an image of Claretta Neville flashed through his mind.
You gimme somethin’ to have faith in.

“There’s no way I’m going to walk away from this. I know how the kid died. It ain’t over till it’s over, and the key to it all is Casey Jeffs.”

Captain Powell rubbed his temples with his free hand.

“You want to keep chasing rainbows, Tyrell, then go ahead, but make damned sure neither I nor the commissioner hear a damned thing about it till you can prove something. As far as the department’s concerned you’re suspended until further notice.”

Relieved of his weapon and badge, Tyrell strode past Powell toward the Senate building’s elevators.

* * *

Senator Isaiah Black watched as Detective Tyrell was stripped of his badge and gun before he and the remaining police officers stode away to the elevators. He was thinking deeply about what he had heard when he felt his cell phone vibrating in his pocket. He lifted it out, and saw the name flashing on the screen.
k. patterson
.

The senator took a breath, and answered the call.

“Kelvin.”

“Senator,”
the pastor replied formally down the line.
“I hope that I’m not interrupting anything?”

“No, Pastor, but I’m just on my way out to the rally. What can I do for you?”

The senator heard a sigh down the line before the pastor spoke.

“You were right, of course. I can’t afford not to bridge our differences, especially not at such a critical time in your campaign. America needs you as much as I do, and we will be stronger unified. Perhaps you could stop by the church on your way through? I’d be delighted to join you at the rally, and proclaim our support for your campaign.”

Senator Black struggled to control the broad grin that spread across his face as he glanced at his reflection in the suite’s glass doors, an image of the White House appearing unbidden before him. Detective Tyrell’s image materialized before the reflection, his warning echoing around the senator’s brain. Two guards, that was all he’d need, and he could slip out of the Hart Senate Office Building’s tunnel entrance and avoid the army of journalists camped outside the building.

“I’d be delighted, Pastor. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

FIRST DISTRICT STATION
M STREET SW, WASHINGTON DC

L
opez tossed her case files onto her desk like a spoiled child discarding an old toy and picked up her jacket and car keys. She couldn’t bring herself to hate Captain Powell but she sure as hell hated herself. If she hadn’t reported Tyrell, then none of this would have happened. By now he’d probably be having his ass whipped by Commissioner Devereux, and Lopez herself was headed home with her own tail between her legs.

From where the files had fallen, a picture of Damon Sheviz stared out at her in black and white, his eyes a mischievous cross between those of the enlightened and the fanatic. There was something about the image that made her feel uneasy, something primal.

Beside her Lucas Tyrell’s phone rang suddenly, making her jump. She reached across and picked the receiver up.

“Yeah?”

“Hello,”
came a voice that Lopez guessed was probably from the Windy City.
“Is Detective Tyrell there?”

“He’s”—Lopez picked her words with care—“off duty right now. Let me take your name and number and I’ll get hold of Tyrell.”

“Of course,”
the voice said,
“my name’s Douglas Jarvis, Defense Intelligence Agency.”

“And what’s it regarding?”

“It’s regarding a report filed with the ICMP. I’ve been trying to reach Detective Tyrell but he’s been away from his desk.”

Lopez looked at the file in her hands and felt an almost supernatural tingle rippling down her spine.

“I posted information to the ICMP about a man found dead in the capital two days ago, a scientist by the name of—”

“Joseph Coogan?”
asked the voice.

“How did you know that name?” Lopez asked in surprise.

“What’s your connection to this?”

“Lucas Tyrell is my partner. We’ve been working on this case for the past forty-eight hours or so.”

There was a pause on the line.
“What sort of case?”

“Homicide that looked like an overdose but the pathology didn’t figure.”

“What was the discrepancy?”

“Too complicated to go into without the paperwork, but Coogan appeared to have died after some kind of unexplained medical procedure performed by a Damon Sheviz.”

“Was that analysis obtained during autopsy, something to do with traces of excess hydrogen sulphide in the blood?”

Lopez stood bolt upright.

“It was, along with signs of hypothermia and altered blood groups.”

The voice on the other end of the line became equally agitated.

“I think that we need to talk. I’ve been in touch with our embassy in Israel. It would appear that wherever Mr. Sheviz goes he leaves a trail of bodies behind him. We’ve also got some evidence of a company owned by the American Evangelical Alliance called MACE, purchasing and importing medical equipment into Israel that doesn’t correspond with their stated research programs, things like heart-bypass machines.”

Nicola Lopez could barely suppress the smile that broke out on her face as she grabbed a pen.

She quickly wrote down Jarvis’s details and hung up. Before she had even a chance to think about what had just happened, Larry Pitt, one of the junior officers in her division charged with administration duties, walked up to her desk and tossed a file in front of her.

“History on Casey Jeffs that you asked for,” he said casually. “Didn’t have enough time to grab all the files for your PDA earlier. Interesting guy.”

Lopez picked the file up as Pitt strolled away, opening it to find two pages of information, the first filled with what she already knew. As she read the second, however, her jaw fell slack and a sudden premonition of doom swamped her like a heavy blanket.

Lopez reached into her pocket for her cell phone, quick-dialing Kaczynski’s number, but the engaged tone cut her off. She rang off and tried Tyrell instead. Another recorded message droned in her ear.

Lopez leaped out of her chair and ran through the office until she caught up with Pitt.

“Larry, you seen Kaczynski?”

“He left about an hour ago,” Pitt said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder.

“Shit.”

Lopez knew that she had to get to Tyrell before he did something he would regret.

“Get on a terminal. I need Casey Jeff’s home address!”

ANACOSTIA, WASHINGTON DC

C
asey Jeffs shook Tyrell’s hand and regarded him with a serene expression as they sat down opposite each other in the living room of Casey’s small apartment.

“What can I do f’ya, Detective?”

The apartment was devoid of excess furniture or trinkets. A simple crucifix dominated one wall of the lounge, and there was no television or music system in the room.