Sight Unseen (31 page)

“Fine.” She jumped out of the car. “But I don’t believe I can stand Griffin and all his people buzzing around trying to commit a crime of their own. I’ll see you all later.”

She heard Lynch curse behind her. The next moment, he was standing beside her. “You know it’s not safe for you to be strolling the streets.”

She kept walking.

He grasped her arm and whirled her to face him. He took her hand and dropped the keys to his Ferrari in her palm. “Take my car. But if you get so pissed you wreck it, you’ll have me to deal with. I’ll call you when we hear something.” He turned and walked away.

She looked down at the keys. He loved that stupid, ego-building car. It would serve him right if she—

But that would make her actions totally immature, and she wouldn’t do anything that lacked dignity. Her anger and viewpoint were just.

And Lynch should know that, dammit.

She turned and walked toward the Ferrari.

San Quentin Penitentiary

Chapel

8:40
P.M.

“THIS IS VERY GOOD OF YOU, WARDEN.”
Colby smiled gently. “I’m grateful that you gave me this last opportunity. I didn’t want my final prayers to be in that cell.” He looked around the chapel. “This seems more … fitting.”

“It was a last request. You’re entitled to it as long as there’s no threat, and it doesn’t interfere.” Salazar gestured to the four guards. “Follow him to the altar but allow him space and privacy for his last prayers.” He turned to Colby. “Do you wish to see the chaplain?”

“Why? I’ve seen him before, but it’s too late now. I die in four hours. He can’t give me absolution. I don’t need a middleman.” He looked at the glowing candles and the crucifix above the altar. “How long before I have to go back to my cell?”

“I can give you thirty minutes.”

“That should be enough time.” He glanced at the guards. “I’ll try not to keep them waiting.” His lips twisted. “Nor you, Warden Salazar. I know this is going to be a big night for you. Is it going to be a full house to watch me die?”

Salazar said without expression, “I understand many people are interested.”

“I can see how they would be. I’m something of a superstar.” He started down the aisle, his gaze fixed on the flickering candles below the crucifix. “Let’s hope I won’t disappoint them with my performance.”

Salazar didn’t answer, and Colby closed him out of his mind. He was nothing. Colby had used him, but he was no longer important. He had to concentrate on the task at hand.

He moved into the second pew back from the altar. It was the same pew he’d occupied every time he’d come to the chapel for the last few days. He’d made sure that everything was exactly the same.

Even the guards were in their same positions in the aisle six pews to the rear.

He knelt and looked up at the crucifix. His lips moved as if in silent prayer.

His hand moved down beneath the pew in front of him.

He closed his eyes.

Let it be there.

He could control almost everything but the guard whom Myatt had bribed to do this job. It annoyed him that he’d had to leave details like this to Myatt. He could make Myatt do anything he wanted him to do, but he couldn’t control his choices when he wasn’t in contact with him.

But this time, evidently, Myatt had chosen well, and the guard was not quite a fool.

The cell phone was here.

He punched the access button, his gaze still on the flickering candles on the altar. “Bless you, my son,” he said mockingly. “You did well.”

“I told you I’d get it done,” Myatt whispered. “I had to do it. I haven’t been in contact with you lately. I had to make sure you knew that I was out here doing everything you told me to do.”

“And have you?”

“Of course. I’ve done practically everything we discussed and agreed is necessary. I’ve not been able to take care of Kendra Michaels yet. But I’ll do it within the next couple days. I may have to use her mother and maybe Michaels’s friend to draw her into the trap.” He added quickly, “But you don’t have to think it won’t happen. I made you a promise.”

“I trust you. Why wouldn’t I after all you’ve done for me?” He trusted no one, but Myatt needed to think they were close in every sense, so that he’d continue with his tasks. “I just had to make sure everything is in place.” He folded his hands in prayer, his head bowed. “I need you to move quickly. I Skyped Kendra Michaels yesterday, and she seemed to think that she’d gather you into her net soon. I told her she was bluffing, but you mustn’t take the chance. Not after all we’ve done to bring her down.”

“All
I’ve
done,” Myatt said.

“I beg your pardon,” Colby said softly. “Did I hear you correctly?”

“A slip of the tongue,” Myatt said quickly. “You’re brilliant and guided me all along the way. But you have to admit I’ve handled everything cleverly and inserted my own bits to the big picture. One of the kills I committed a few days ago you didn’t even know about. You wouldn’t let me get in touch with you.”

Arrogant bastard, Colby thought with annoyance. “Yes, you’re clever. I wouldn’t have chosen you if I didn’t believe you could do what I wished. But I told you to concentrate on Michaels.”

“And I will. I just had to prove to her who was running this show.”

“Concentrate on doing what I told you to do,” he said through set teeth.

“I didn’t mean to make you angry. You know I only want to please you.”

Keep it cool and calm. “You always please me.” He paused. “I just have to be sure everything is clear. I don’t have much time.” He added sardonically, “In a few minutes, they’re going to take me back to my cell and perform the usual rituals for my meeting with the executioner.”

Myatt was silent for a long moment. “Are you frightened, Colby?”

“You insult me,” he said sharply. “Fear is for lesser men. Not for me. Not for you, Myatt.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“I’ll forgive you if you do your duty to me. I have to go now. Good-bye, Myatt.”

“I won’t disappoint you.”

“I know.” Colby broke the connection and pushed the phone once more beneath the pew in front of him. He remained kneeling there for another few minutes, his lips moving as if in prayer.

Then he lowered his head on his arms on the pew in front of him as if in despair. Two more minutes, and he lifted his head. He gave a deep sigh and rose to his feet.

The next moment, he was moving down the aisle toward the back of the chapel, where Salazar waited.

The guards in the aisle parted for him like the Red Sea did for Moses. A very apt comparison, he thought bitterly. His power and intelligence against their stupidity and brawn.

Salazar straightened as he saw Colby coming toward him. “Did it help? Did you make your peace?”

“You could say that.” Colby didn’t look at him as he headed for the door of the chapel. “At least I made sure that I wouldn’t be forgotten.”

CHAPTER

13

San Quentin Penitentiary

East Gate

MORE THAN TWO THOUSAND PROTESTORS
lined the roadway outside the prison gate, almost matched in numbers by the TV news crews, print journalists, and online bloggers with video cameras.

Lily Holt had just finished an interview with the particularly bloodthirsty female president of a victims’ rights group when Bobby Chatsworth walked up and joined her behind the barricade.

“Any luck?” she asked.

“No. I wasted an entire day trying to buy our way into that witness room. A reporter from the
Los Angeles Times
almost sold me his for five thousand dollars, but he got cold feet. He was afraid of losing his job.”

“They don’t allow cameras in there anyway.”

Chatsworth smiled as he fluffed his full red beard. “Cameras they can detect, you mean.”

Her gaze narrowed on his face. “What are you saying?”

“My day wasn’t entirely wasted. I found out there’s going to be a very special auction tomorrow morning. One of the ‘reputable citizen’ witnesses is smuggling in a miniature HD video camera, possibly in a pen or a brooch. Video of the entire execution will be sold to the highest bidder.”

“That’s grotesque, even for you.”

“Thank you, my dear.”

“The network will never air it.”

“Certainly they will. I’ll promote the hell out of it, and it will be the ratings event of the season. And when we put it online, millions more all over the world will watch for years to come.”

“My friends and family are already asking me how I can work with you. What will I say then?”

Chatsworth laughed. “I’m leaving immediately after the execution. The auction will take place in San Francisco tomorrow morning.”

“Please understand if I don’t wish you good luck.”

“Understood. Any progress on the Kendra Michaels interview?”

“None yet.”

He shrugged. “No worries. If this execution footage comes through, we’ll have everything we need.”

*   *   *

THE SUN WAS GOING DOWN
when Kendra drove the Ferrari back to FBI headquarters.

Lynch was standing on the street, waiting.

She got out of the car and went to meet him. She gave him the keys. “You didn’t call me. The governor hasn’t made a decision?”

“We just heard five minutes ago. Griffin just got off the phone with the governor. They didn’t believe our grounds were strong enough to delay the execution.”

“What about your Washington friends? No influence?”

“It didn’t come into question. I didn’t call them.” He looked her in the eye. “But it had nothing to do with you. If the death penalty hadn’t been in jeopardy, I would have done it. I would have pulled every string I could. I just couldn’t stand the thought of Colby’s not getting his full punishment.”

“So I guess Griffin doesn’t owe you after all.”

“What a disappointment.”

“Is he angry?”

“I don’t give a damn.” He looked at his Ferrari. “It’s in pretty good shape. You must have resisted temptation.”

“I didn’t drive it very much,” she said. “I just went to the park and sat and tried to make sense of everything.”

“And did you do it?”

“Not very well. But it’s looking better right now.” She moved toward the door. “And now that the governor did the right thing, we can get back to the business of finding Myatt. Where’s Griffin?”

“In the war room. Breathing fire.”

She could see what he meant when the elevator doors opened, and she saw Griffin.

“I guess you’re happy,” he spat out bitterly when he saw her.

“Not happy. But a little more … satisfied.”

Griffin cursed and walked over to the uncovered windows where there had once been a row of offices. The sun had just set, and the lights of the city twinkled in the distance. He called over his shoulder to Metcalf. “Anything in those prison files?”

Metcalf stepped forward. “A few things to follow up on. We won’t know until we—”

A high-pitched beep sounded from the phone-company technician’s laptop.

Kendra’s eyes flew up to the large projected map, which had remained unchanged all day long. But as the beeping continued, she noticed that a pulsing red dot now appeared on the map.

“What does that mean?” she yelled over the noise.

“I’ll check.” The technician, who had passed much of the day hovering near the desk of Griffin’s attractive assistant, snapped to attention and ran back to his laptop. “This is
it.
” His voice was filled with wonder. “One of the phones has made contact with the network.”

Griffin ran back from the windows. “Where?”

“Northeast of the city.” He picked up his phone. “I’ll see how far we can narrow the location.”

San Quentin State Penitentiary

Death-Watch Cell

COLBY STARED AT THE NEW JEANS
and denim work shirt that one of his death-watch guards, Tom Lester, handed him. “What’s this?”

“Put them on, please.”

Colby raised his eyebrows. “
Please?
That’s the first time I’ve heard that word in all the years I’ve been here. Dead Man Walking evidently has its privileges.”

The guard pointed to the crisp new clothing. “It’s routine. It’s almost time. Do it.”

“Funny. A costume for an execution. May I have some privacy while I change?”

“Not a chance.”

Colby nodded to Lester and his fellow guard, Patrick Nevis. “Of course. The death watch. Can’t have me killing myself before the big show.” He pointed to his left. “The execution chamber is just on the other side of this wall, isn’t it?”

“Just put on the clothes.”

Colby turned his back on the guards, stripped out of his prison uniform, and pulled on the jeans and shirt. He turned back around and adjusted the collar. “Blue really isn’t my color, you know.”

“Sit down, Colby.”

He smiled and sat on the edge of the bunk. “Be nice. You’ll miss me when I’m gone.”

FBI Field Office

San Diego

“GROUP LEADERS, PREPARE TO MOBILIZE
your response teams. We have an active target.” Griffin whirled away from the gathered agents and leaned toward the telephone-company technician, who was still on the phone and scribbling furiously on a Post-it note. “Got it?”

The technician tore off the note and handed it to Griffin. “That phone is most likely within thirty yards of this address. They just confirmed it at the office.”

“It’s 26613 Breaker Drive,” Griffin said. “Get the response teams rolling. I want the names of every resident on the street. Reade, let’s see if there’s a match with anyone on the suspect database you’ve been compiling.”