"We have an idea. But that's all I'll say."
Gray glanced around the table. It was obvious Voyles had nothing else to say now, and everyone relaxed at the same time. The editors savored the moment.
Voyles loosened his tie, and almost smiled. "This is off the record, of course, but how did you guys find out about Morgan, the dead lawyer?"
"I will not discuss the specifics of the investigation," Gray said with a wicked grin. They all laughed.
"What do you do now?" Krauthammer asked Voyles.
"There'll be a grand jury by noon tomorrow. Quick indictments. We'll try to find Mattiece, but it'll be difficult. We have no idea where he is. He's spent most of the past five years in the Bahamas, but owns homes in Mexico, Panama, and Paraguay." Voyles glanced at Darby for the second time. She was leaning against the wall by the window, hearing it all.
"What time does the first edition come off the press?" Voyles asked.
"They roll off all night, starting at ten-thirty," said Keen.
"Which edition will this story run in?"
"Late City, a few minutes before midnight. It's the largest edition."
"Will it have Coal's picture on the front?"
Keen looked at Krauthammer, who looked at Feldman. "I guess it should. We'll quote you as saying the brief was personally delivered to Fletcher Coal, who we'll also quote as saying Mattiece gave the President four point two million. Yes, I think Mr. Coal should have his face on the front, along with everyone else."
"I think so too," Voyles said. "If I have a man here at midnight, can I pick up a few copies of it?"
"Certainly," Feldman said. "Why?"
"Because I want to personally deliver it to Coal. I want to knock on his door at midnight, see him in his pajamas, and flash the paper in his face. Then I want to tell him I'll be back with a grand jury subpoena, and shortly after that I'll be back with an indictment. And shortly after that, I'll be back with the handcuffs."
He said this with such pleasure it was frightening.
"I'm glad you don't carry a grudge," Gray said. Only Smith Keen thought it was funny.
"Do you think he'll be indicted?" Krauthammer asked innocently.
Voyles glanced at Darby again. "He'll take the fall for the President. He'd volunteer for a firing squad to save his boss."
Feldman checked his watch and pushed away from the table.
"Could I ask a favor?" Voyles asked.
"Certainly. What?"
"I'd like to spend a few minutes alone with Ms. Shaw. That is, if she doesn't mind."
Everyone looked at Darby, who shrugged her approval. The editors and K. O. Lewis stood in unison and filed out of the room. Darby took Gray's hand and asked him to stay. They sat opposite Voyles at the table.
"I wanted to talk in private," Voyles said, looking at Gray.
"He stays," she said. "It's off the record."
"Very well."
She beat him to the punch. "If you plan to interrogate me, I won't talk without an attorney present."
He was shaking his head. "Nothing like that. I was just wondering what's next for you."
"Why should I tell you?"
"Because we can help."
"Who killed Gavin?"
Voyles hesitated. "Off the record."
"Off the record," said Gray.
"I'll tell you who we think killed him, but first tell me how much you talked to him before he died."
"We talked several times over the weekend. We were supposed to meet last Monday, and leave New Orleans."
"When did you last talk to him?"
"Sunday night."
"And where was he?"
"In his room at the Hilton."
Voyles breathed deeply, and looked at the ceiling. "And you discussed with him the meeting on Monday?"
"Yes."
"Had you met him before?"
"No."
"The man who killed him was the same man you were holding hands with when he lost his brains."
She was afraid to ask. Gray did it for her. "Who was that?"
"The great Khamel."
She choked and covered her eyes, and tried to say something. But it wouldn't work.
"This is rather confusing," Gray said, straining to be rational.
"Rather, yes. The man who killed Khamel is a contract operative hired independently by the CIA. He was on the scene when Callahan was killed, and I think he made contact with Darby."
"Rupert," she said quietly.
"That's not his real name, of course, but Rupert'll do. He's probably got twenty names. If it's who I think it is, he's a British chap who's very reliable."
"Do you have any idea how confusing this is?" she asked.
"I can imagine."
"Why was Rupert in New Orleans? Why was he following her?" Gray asked.
"It's a very long story, and I don't know all of it. I try to keep my distance from the CIA, believe me. I have enough to worry about. It goes back to Mattiece. A few years ago, he needed some money to move along his grand scheme. So he sold a piece of it to the Libyan government. I'm not sure if it was legal, but enter the CIA. Evidently they watched Mattiece and the Libyans with a great deal of interest, and when the litigation sprang up, the CIA monitored it. I don't think they suspected Mattiece in the Supreme Court killings, but Bob Gminski was handed a copy of your little brief just a few hours after we delivered a copy to the White House. Fletcher Coal gave it to him. I have no idea who Gminski told of the brief, but the wrong words hit the wrong ears, and twenty-four hours later, Mr. Callahan is dead. And you, my dear, were very lucky."
"Then why don't I feel lucky?" she said.
"That doesn't explain Rupert," Gray said.
"I don't know this for a fact, but I suspect Gminski immediately sent Rupert to follow Darby. I think the brief initially scared Gminski more than the rest of us. He probably sent Rupert to trail her, in part to watch, and in part to protect. Then the car exploded, and suddenly Mr. Mattiece just confirmed the brief. Why else would you kill Callahan and Darby? I have reason to believe there were dozens of CIA people in New Orleans hours after the car exploded."
"But why?" Gray asked.
"The brief had been legitimized, and Mattiece was killing people. Most of his business is in New Orleans. And I think the CIA was very concerned about Darby. Lucky for her. They came through when it counted."
"If the CIA moved so fast, why didn't you?" she asked.
"Fair question. We didn't think that much of the brief, and we didn't know half as much as the CIA. I swear, it seemed like such a long shot, and we had a dozen other suspects. We underestimated it. Plain and simple. Plus, the President asked us to back off, and it was easy to do because I'd never heard of Mattiece. Had no reason to. Then my friend Gavin got himself killed, and I sent in the troops."
"Why would Coal give the brief to Gminski?" Gray asked.
"It scared him. And, truthfully, that's one reason we sent it over. Gminski is, well, he's Gminski, and he sometimes does things his way without regard for little obstacles like laws and such. Coal wanted the brief checked out, and he figured Gminski would do it quickly and quietly."
"So Gminski didn't level with Coal."
"He hates Coal, which is perfectly understandable. Gminski dealt with the President, and, no, he didn't level with him. It all happened so fast. Remember, Gminski, Coal, the President, and I first saw the brief just two weeks ago today. Gminski was probably waiting to tell the President some of the story, but just hadn't got the chance."