Double Jeopardy

73

10:11 P.M.

TRAVIS PRESSED CLOSE TO Curran and tried to look over his shoulder. “Who is it?”

“I can’t tell. But it’s a man, and he’s alone.” They both heard the sound of the front door opening. “He’s in the house.”

Travis held his breath and listened to the soft footsteps crossing the living room downstairs. The intruder was undoubtedly surveying the scene, examining the dead men. Slowly, the footsteps moved toward the staircase.

Curran pressed himself flat against the wall beside the door. He raised his gun and held it suspended in the air.

“Is anyone up there?” The voice seemed harsh, authoritative.

“Who wants to know?” Curran fired back.

“I do. My name is Janicek. I’m with the FBI.”

“Let him in,” Travis advised Curran.

Curran frowned but obeyed. “All right,” he shouted, “you can come up. But keep your hands in the air. If you go for a weapon, I’ll shoot you dead.”

Travis listened as the soft footsteps floated up the stairs. He pulled Cavanaugh closer to him. They both held their breath.

Travis recognized the man who stepped through the doorway, arms raised in the air. “I’ve met this man before,” he said. “He visited my office and scared the hell out of me. He’s FBI.”

Curran slowly lowered his gun.

Janicek smiled. “I’m glad you remembered, Byrne. Your pal looks like he has an itchy trigger finger.”

“Just cautious,” Curran murmured.

“Why the hell did the FBI try to kill me at the shopping mall?” Travis demanded.

“We were acting on some … confused intelligence,” Janicek said.

Travis noticed Moroconi, still tied to the closet door. He was being strangely silent. For the first time his obnoxious overconfidence seemed to have drained away. He almost looked scared.

“You’ve caught Moroconi. That’s great,” Janicek said.

“Yeah. And we recovered your goddamn list.”

“That’s wonderful. Can I see it?”

Travis hesitated. There was no reason not to hand the list back to the people who lost it, but something about this situation struck him as … odd. What was it?

Paranoia, he told himself. It’s finally getting to me. He shrugged and handed over the list.

“Thank God it’s safe again,” Janicek said, shoving it into his pocket. “For all we know, Moroconi may have been planning to knock each witness off one by one.”

“I suspect blackmail was more what he had in mind,” Travis replied. “I have a lot of questions—”

“There’ll be time for that later. I need to take this man into custody.”

Janicek advanced toward Moroconi. Moroconi immediately moved away from him, as far as he could go while tied to the closet. “Don’t let him near me,” he said. “Please. Keep him offa me!”

Travis was puzzled. He hadn’t expected Moroconi to go willingly, but he hadn’t expected this reaction either. There was pure fear in Moroconi’s eyes.

Janicek grabbed Moroconi roughly by the arm. “Don’t give me any trouble.”

“I’m serious!” Moroconi said. He was practically pleading. “This guy ain’t what he seems.”

That caught Travis’s attention.

“Don’t listen to him,” Janicek said. “He’s desperate. He’s trying to confuse you.”

“You mean he isn’t with the FBI?” Travis asked Moroconi.

“No, he’s with the FBI, but he’s playing both ends against the middle. He’s the one who gave me—”

Janicek’s fist smashed into Moroconi’s nose. Moroconi’s head flew back and pounded against the closet. He tried once more to speak, and Janicek hit him again.

“What the hell was that for?” Travis demanded.

“He was getting out of hand,” Janicek said gruffly.

“Out of hand? He’s tied to the closet. What did you think he was going to do?”

Janicek proceeded to untie Moroconi. “Just stay out of my way, Byrne. Leave this to the professionals.”

“You’re not going anywhere until I get some answers.”

“I don’t have time to play twenty questions. Interfering with a federal officer in the execution of his duty is a felony offense!” He finished untying Moroconi and grabbed him by the arm. “I have to get this man into custody. I have to secure the list.”

“Secure the list!” Moroconi said, blood dripping from his nose. “He’s the one who gave me the list!”

“What!” Travis pushed Janicek away from Moroconi. “Is that true?”

Almost instantaneously, Janicek had his gun out of his shoulder holster. “Get out of my way, Byrne.”

Travis stepped back cautiously.

Janicek jerked Moroconi toward the door, only to find Curran was blocking the way, gun raised. “You are obstructing an officer of the law!”

“Maybe so,” Curran said. “But something about this smells.”

“What do you care what happens to this piece of shit?”

“Not much, but I’m not going to let you execute him,” Curran said.

“Stupid son of a—” Before Curran realized what was happening, Janicek swung Moroconi around between himself and Curran’s gun. Curran almost fired, then stopped when he realized Moroconi had become the man’s shield. Janicek shoved Moroconi into Curran, knocking him off balance, then clubbed Moroconi with his gun butt. Moroconi dropped to the ground like a rock. A second later Janicek pointed his gun at Curran’s head and pulled back the hammer.

The sound of a gunshot electrified the room. Janicek screamed and fell to his knees. Clutching his chest, he tumbled to the floor.

Travis whirled around. “Henderson!”

He was standing in the doorway, gun drawn. “Thought you’d been inside too long,” he said, entering the room. “Especially after I saw this clown go in. I got worried.”

“Damn good timing,” Travis said. “But did you have to use your gun again?”

“What did you want me to use? Harsh language?”

“Right.” Travis picked up the phone on Jack’s desk. “I’ll call an ambulance.”

Yet another voice echoed through the room. “Don’t bother.”

Travis looked up and saw an older man in the doorway, his hands in the pockets of a long overcoat.

“And who the hell are you?” Travis asked.

“I’m with the FBI,” the man replied.

“Isn’t everyone?” Travis said. “Or so it seems today.”

“I’d be happy to show you my ID.”

“Why don’t you start by telling us your name?”

“As you wish,” the man answered calmly. “My name is Special Agent William Henderson. You may have heard of me.”