Square Snapper (Detective Inspector Burgess) (27 page)

“Buddy,” continued Archie, “I think I may go over there for the funeral. De Souza is monitoring the interviews and Dill is keeping us informed.”

“That’s okay by me, bro’. Keep me in the loop.” Burgess heard the click as Archie hung up and turned to Jacintha. “Well, would you believe how quickly things are moving now? I’m just so sorry about the Miami detective. I know that Archie really liked him.”

“Buddy, do you think that this guy Captain is the Bermuda drug lord or could there be somebody higher up - this cousin, for example?”

“Who knows? I need to get out and watch these interviews. I’m going stir crazy here.”

“I’ll talk to your doctor and find out when we can get you released. Or maybe they could send you the recordings of the interviews for you to listen to.”

“Jacintha, you’re amazing!”

“I know,” she laughed. “I’ll try and track down your doctor.” She kissed him once more and then left the room, leaving behind the smell of her perfume and one very happy detective.

Chapter 56

Hofstein had known the minute he entered the squad room that something was very wrong. Nobody could quite look him in the eye and a colleague had told him the lieutenant wanted to see him. It was he who had broken to him the news about Gonzalez. After he had come out, the rest of the detectives had come up to commiserate with him. Shortly afterwards his wife had called and had told him that Gonzalez had passed away peacefully with his mother and sister at his side. Hofstein had felt like he had been punched in the gut. He now felt like a boat adrift. In the short time that he and Gonzalez had worked on this case, they had become close friends as well as good working partners. Gonzalez had been his anchor and had shown him that you could be a good detective and still have a sense of fun. Somehow, Gonzalez’s sunny outlook on life had counterbalanced the intensity of Hofstein’s personality. No more late night beers, Cuban sandwiches by the beach or “marroncitos” - those coffees that Gonzalez so enjoyed. No more light hearted banter during stakeouts or evenings cross-referencing witness statements, working the phones together or interviewing suspects. Gonzalez could play the bad cop just as well as the good cop and suspects were nearly always forthcoming. This case had taken a real emotional toll on Hofstein and now it had become very, very personal. At least the lieutenant had given him back his gun. He was now cleared and ready for action – but where to go now? What would Gonzalez have suggested? He pulled on his jacket as he swung out of the squad room towards the building that housed the Forensic Computer Lab.
Maybe if
I light a fire under Aaron Jacobs.

Jacobs had been expecting Hofstein. He sat him down with an espresso coffee and, after taking time to express his condolences, began to explain what he had been doing. In the background the computers were busy running the different programs he had written.

“You see here, this is for the Spanish version of the book. I’ve written a program to isolate particular words and phrases. I know it’s a long shot, but it’s better than nothing.

I’ve also put in a telephone call to a friend of mine in the NSA -”

“The National Security Agency?”

“Yes. I’m hopeful that I might get some tips from him as to what other avenues to pursue. Codebreaking is a very specialized field and I’m afraid it’s not really my forte. He’s involved in all sorts of high tech intelligence interpretation. They have some amazing, state of the art equipment and are on the front line of communications and data processing. If he can’t help, I don’t know who can.”

“I understand,” said Hofstein wearily. “These bastards sure are cunning.”

“Don’t give up. They’ll slip up somehow. Sometimes it’s the tiniest thing that can bring everything toppling down. You can bet that the minute they do make a mistake, I’ll be all over them.”

“Thanks, Aaron. I know how hard you are working to crack this. We’re lucky to have you on our side. Let me get out of your hair so you can get on with your work. Call me if you hear anything from your contact at the NSA that can help us out.”

“I just can’t right now… I just can’t.” Hofstein’s voice trailed off. He slowly made his way to the door not quite knowing where to go next.

Chapter 57

Burgess got a hero’s welcome back at the Station. Pamela, De Souza, Mrs. Ming and Furbert were all there to greet him. Mrs. Ming had made a chocolate cake which they agreed to eat later in the afternoon with a glass of sparkling wine. Burgess could see that they had kept the department running smoothly in his absence and was proud of his team’s professionalism. He could also tell from their shocked expressions that he still did not look very well, even though he had tied a bandana around his neck to hide the bruising. His voice was not very strong and still husky from the attempted strangling but he was able to at least smile and banter with them. He found he was fine as long as he did not move his arms much. The burning sensation in his chest would quickly remind him of those wounds.

“Sir, I’ve managed to obtain copies of the preliminary interviews with Captain and Frenchie. I’ve set everything up in the murder room for you to watch.” Pamela had been her usual efficient self.

“Thanks, Pamela. First, I’m going to get myself a coffee and then I’ll settle in there to watch.”

“Let me get that for you, sir.” Mrs. Ming was acting all motherly. “You look like you could do with one.”

“Thank you. I’ll be very happy to drink decent coffee and eat something other than hospital food! Does anyone need to come and see me before I start watching the interviews?”

“Yessir. I have some developments on the hunt for the assassin.”

“Okay, Pamela. Why don’t you come into my office and bring me up to date.”

Pamela crossed to her desk and picked up a notebook and file. Judging from the sheaf of papers it contained, it looked to Burgess as if she had been very busy. She really was becoming quite an accomplished sleuth. She had all the attributes: patience, tenacity, the ability to look at things from different angles and good powers of deduction. She would go a long way in the police force. She followed him into his office as Mrs. Ming put down a steaming mug of coffee and a banana muffin on to his desk.

“I’m not used to this. Thank you.”

“It’s the least we can do after all you’ve been through,” chirped Mrs. Ming, leaving him alone with Pamela to go over the investigation.

“Sir, I’ve collected and gone through all the reports from the different hotels. Long story short: The missing man is Eastern European. He checked into three different hotels, staying in one for two nights and checking into another, a guest house in Flatts, the day of the attack. I guess he wanted to be somewhere close to his clothes so he could change his looks in time to take a plane out. We found a suitcase with false panels. In it he had three different passports and three different disguises. We sent copies of the passports over to Interpol. We’re waiting to hear back from them but, as yet, nothing. He came into the island as Henrik Laarson, a Swedish businessman with a graying beard and brown eyes. He was planning to leave as the same person, according to his airline ticket, but he had rented a bike, which we found close to your house, in the name of Mario Pavic. While he was operating here, we think he also used that alias, was clean shaven and had blue eyes. At least that is what the guest house manager in Flatts said he looked like. It would appear he had padded his cheeks and used some prosthetics for his teeth. Really changed his looks, in fact.”

“Yes. He was definitely clean shaven when he was caught.” Burgess kept remembering hitting him with the golf club, the sound of the bone splintering and the blood spraying on the walls. It was like a video clip permanently on a loop. The memory sickened him.

“Buddy, are you all right?” Pamela’s tone was anxious, all formality gone.

“I’m okay,” sighed Burgess, “just weary. Go on.”

“Well, he had a fake beard to put back on to resemble Laarson again for when he flew out and, of course, brown contact lenses. The labels in his clothing were from England and Italy. Obviously, a GQ kind of a guy! Since we also found a few items with the labels cut out, we figure that England and Italy are probably countries where he does
not
live otherwise he wouldn’t have left the labels in them.”

“What about weapons. How did he get that gun through security?”

“There was nothing in his personal effects. We now know he got it here.”

“What? Are you serious? Pamela, that’s huge. That means we have some major weapons going around the island. Another thing we’re going to have to jump all over.”

“Well, here’s the big news. Frenchie has confessed to providing the weaponry. Turns out he has a hidden cache of guns and stuff in a cave in the cliffs near his house and, get this… a load of GPS transponders.”

“Unbelievable! I just can’t understand why Frenchie would tell us that.”

“Well, we had a little help. It appears there are a few contenders to his throne who have been feeding Inspector Dill’s informants with more than just the usual tidbits of information. When Dill confronted him with the evidence, he actually admitted to it before we even needed to do all the forensics to establish they belonged to him. When Narcotics raided his store, they found a trap door in the floor with all sorts of cash and contact numbers. Seems our Frenchie was not a technology buff and preferred “the little black book” way of doing things. Once Narcotics have a chance to check out all the information, I think our boy will be in Southwall for a long time… along with a few of his favourite cronies. Dill is really jazzed about all of this.”

Burgess got up with his coffee and moved into the conference room that served as their murder room. The whiteboard was filled with the latest information and photographs of victims. He also saw several photographs of his apartment. His stomach churned when he saw the bloodstains and state of the broken furniture. He looked away quickly and made a show of choosing an interview tape, pleased to see that his team had been busy continuing with the case’s developments in an obviously professional manner. He felt proud of them but, at the same time, crushed to realize that they had a traitor in their midst. Furbert had to be the mole. He was the one entrusted with the false information about the raid on Captain’s house. He wanted to talk to Archie and then he would have to report this to the superintendent. For once, he actually wished he were back in the hospital. Plugging in a tape, he turned up the volume and settled in to watch the interview with Frenchie.

Chapter 58

Jacobs was in two minds, while he was enjoying being in the spotlight, the pressure was beginning to get to him. It seemed that the entire police force was looking to him - and his super computers - to give them their big break in the case. He fervently hoped that his programs would bring results… and soon. Hofstein had stayed with him into the early hours and then had given up and gone home clearly frustrated and desperate to avenge his partner’s death. Jacobs felt for him but was secretly relieved to see him go. His impatience was distracting and contributing to his stress. He crossed the room to keep looking at how things were progressing. So far, he had struck out. He still had nothing to show for all the hours he had put into trying to unravel the code. He knew that once part of it was cracked, the rest would come easily; if he could just get lucky and find something soon.

Just then his phone rang and he raced over to his desk to pick it up. The voice of his NSA contact greeted him. Jacobs spent several minutes going over the details of the encrypted messages and waited for his friend to give him some feedback.

He could feel the tension in his face as he listened to the NSA computer expert. Jacobs slowly felt despondency seep into his body. What the man was telling him was not what he wanted to hear. It could potentially take years for him to crack the code. How was he going to explain that to Hofstein? He listened politely to the bad news, thanked his contact and then quietly hung up the telephone. Pushing back his chair from his desk, he leaned forward, head in his hands, the picture of abject misery. He was the whiz kid of the FCL. He had a reputation to uphold. How was he going to live this down? Jacobs was not accustomed to failure and it did not sit well with him. He knew he had to think of something… and fast.

Chapter 59

Archie had joined Burgess in the Murder Room. They had both watched the tapes and were going over their impressions. Archie agreed with Burgess that Captain had unwittingly implicated Furbert when he said that he had heard there was to be a raid on his house. Nobody else in the police, with the exception of Burgess, Archie and Furbert was privy to that information. While Burgess was glad to have unmasked the mole in his department, it depressed him to think he would have to take action against Furbert. He would have to make that call to the superintendent and fill him in. He was not looking forward to that.