Inmate 1577

63

Vail looked at Dixon. “Okay. John William Anglin. That’s great.” She looked sideways at Burden. “Who the hell’s John William Anglin?”

“You never heard of John Anglin?” Agent Yeung asked.

Detective Carondolet cleared his throat. “John Anglin was one of the three men who escaped from Alcatraz back in ’62. But their bodies were never found. The debate has raged for decades as to whether or not they made it. According to the FBI, they were assumed dead.”

“Well,” Vail said. “We all know what happens when you assume.”

Carondolet frowned. “Marshals Service still has active case files on these guys.”

Vail hiked her brow. “Looks like they can close one of them.”

“So,” Dixon said. “John Anglin. Fifty years or so later, he ends up right where he started. Just a guess, but I’ll bet this was his cell.”

Vail turned to look at the victim. “The UNSUB must’ve had some kind of beef with Anglin. He brought him back to Alcatraz as a gigantic fuck you-you worked so hard to get out of here, I’m going to lock you up in here-and this is where you’re going to die. He got the last word. It took him a while, but he finally got even. We figure out who Anglin pissed off before he left Alcatraz, and we may have our offender.”

“There was one guy, if I remember my history,” Carondolet said. “MacNeil, or MacNally. Something like that. He was in on the escape but he thought Anglin cut him out at the last minute. True or not, who knows. But he’d be the first guy we should look at.”

“Good,” Burden said as his phone rang. “I think it’s time you officially joined our unofficial task force.”

“Come again?” Carondolet asked.

MacNally. Where have I heard that name? Vail looked around the cellhouse. Why isn’t Hartman back? Vail turned to Yeung. “Still nothing from Hartman?”

Yeung’s eyes narrowed. “No.” He pulled his BlackBerry and hit a few keys.

Burden hung up from his call and said, “One of the students found a pattern in the vics’ backgrounds. There were a few odd things that cropped up on two or three, but only one thing that’s common to all of them.”

“Let me guess,” Vail said. “Alcatraz.”

“You got it. Six were correctional officers. Two were former convicts.”

“Why didn’t this come up in our backgrounders?” Dixon asked.

“The damn place closed almost 50 years ago,” Burden said. “The people on his kill list moved on with their lives. According to what I was just told, the younger officers took jobs in the civil service system, or they moved to other Federal employment or they went into the private sector and retired after another thirty, thirty-five years of work. They had whole other lives after Alcatraz. The two inmates paroled out, got married, straightened themselves out. Didn’t happen often, but it did happen.”

Dixon wiggled an index finger at Burden’s BlackBerry. “Have them look up an inmate named MacNeil or MacNally. He would’ve been incarcerated here around the same time as John Anglin. Let’s also see what inmates had a problem with these murdered COs and cons. If this guy keeps coming up, I’d say it’s a bull’s-eye.”

Vail slapped a hand against the bars. “It’s MacNally. The guy who worked with Father Finelli, right? They had some kind of problem.” She turned to Carondolet. “Who’d have those records, the Bureau of Prisons?”

“Yeah. But if you want an answer tonight, you might be able to dig up some stuff on the Internet. Depending on the inmate, there is info up there. May not have what we’re looking for, but we could get lucky.”

“Good,” Vail said, “then let’s find out if this MacNally guy is still alive. If he is, get an address, cell phone, credit card-anything that’d help us pinpoint his whereabouts.” She looked at Yeung. “And where the hell’s Hartman?”

“Not answering,” Yeung said. “Went to voicemail. Probably in a bad zone, without cell service. I was warned about that on the way over from the city.”

Vail shook her head. “If Hartman walked out of here talking on the phone, and he’s not come back, either he’s still on the phone-which can’t be because he doesn’t have service-or he’s turned off his phone, or-”

“Something’s happened to him,” Dixon said.

Burden held up a hand. “Before we assume the worst, let’s get all available personnel together-”

“Wrong,” Vail said. “Assume the worst. The offender took Friedberg, and now he’s got Hartman. Count on it.”

Burden brought his fingers to both temples. “All right. We’ll do a grid search of the island. Hell with the crime scene. Anglin’s not going anywhere. Carondolet-you know this place. Coordinate.”

“Roxx,” Vail said. “Burden, you too. Can I have a word?”

“Now?” Burden asked.

“Now.”

“Get it together,” he said to Carondolet. “I’ll be right there.”

Vail led them down Broadway, to Times Square. Standing beneath the large clock and the West Gun Gallery, Vail took a deep breath and said, “There’s something you two should know.”

“I don’t like the sound of this,” Burden said.

“Trust me,” Vail said. “It gets worse. There was a note. When the UNSUB broke into our hotel room, he left a note.”

“No, he didn’t,” Dixon said.

“Yes, Roxx, he did.” Vail locked eyes with Dixon, who was clearly not pleased. In fact, she looked angrier than Vail had ever seen her-and that was saying a lot. “Before you say anything, I apologize. I-I didn’t say anything about it but I’ve got a good reason. No-I’ve got a reason, but it’s not very good.”

Burden folded his arms across his chest. “Karen, get to the goddamn point.”

“Mike Hartman. He was my partner in New York, remember? Before I was promoted to BAU. Something…happened…during that time. No one knew about it except me and Mike.”

“And?” Dixon asked.

“And the note. It said, ‘I know what you did in New York.’”

“How the hell can the UNSUB know what you did in New York if only you and Hartman knew?”

“There was another person who knew. But she’s out of the picture.”

“And why’s that?”

“She’s dead. A few months ago.”

“Who was she?”

Vail bit her lip. “My CI.”

Burden held up a hand. “What the hell does an old confidential informant from New York have to do with a serial killer in San Francisco who did time on Alcatraz decades ago?”

“Nothing,” Vail said. “Like I said, she’s out of the equation. Which leaves me and Mike. And that really leaves Mike. That’s what I was trying to ask him, down on the dock. Actually, I’ve been calling him for a couple days now, but he wasn’t returning my messages. I called his field office and they told me he was out of town and due back tonight.”

“So let’s rule out Hartman as the killer,” Dixon said. “Right?”

“Mike’s got his issues, but he’s not a psychopath.”

“Okay,” Burden said. “So what’s the connection?”

“That is the question.”

“That’s not the only question.” Burden’s gaze was penetrating. “What did you do in New York? What’s the UNSUB talking about?”

Vail curled a lock of red hair behind her ear and broke eye contact. “Eugenia. My CI. For over two years, I paid her by the book, two to three hundred at a time for info she gave me on illegal firearms, drugs-her info was always spot on. Bureau’s very strict about how you handle, develop, and pay your CIs. Forms have to be filled out specifying the amount you’re paying them-and the CI has to countersign.”

Carondolet came jogging over. “I called for some backup, but it’ll be fifteen to twenty before they get here. And we can’t leave the Coast Guard cutter unsupervised, so there’s seven of us, plus the island security guard. I’m dividing us up into pairs, and the island into quarters. This isn’t gonna be easy without flashlights.”

Burden checked his watch. “Where are you assigning us?”

“Just so you know, searching this place properly would take hours.”

“We don’t have hours,” Vail said.

“Right. So we’ll do what we can. Vail and Dixon, take the northwest quarter. Burden, you and the guard have the northeast. Price’s coming with me to cover the southeast, and Yeung and the other agent have the southwest. The island’s kind of a bird sanctuary, so if someone wandered into their nesting areas, we’d probably have heard a ‘bird alarm.’ I’m not sure if that means anything, but keep it in mind if you hear the gulls going off.”

“I’ve seen one of those already,” Vail said. “At that Palace thing.”

“In the dark, it can just about give you a heart attack. Just warning you.” Carondolet held up his phone as he started backing away. “Stay in touch, if you’ve got service. Regardless, let’s meet back here in forty-five.” The detective turned and jogged off.

Burden swung his gaze back to Vail. “Finish. And make it fast.”

“This can wait-”

“Doesn’t sound like it,” Dixon said.

Vail sighed. “Fine. So Eugenia comes to me one day and tells me she needs nine hundred bucks. Her father has cancer and the drug he needs is expensive. She can’t wait the two weeks it usually takes for the paperwork to go through channels. And no way would they’ve approved a nine hundred dollar advance. Mike told me not to do it, but…”

“You gave her the cash anyway.” Dixon spread her hands. “But so what? Big deal.”

“Wrong. A very big deal. The Bureau loves its procedure. Our Manual of Investigative and Operational Guidelines is four thousand pages long. Bottom line is I filed the paperwork anyway, for the usual amount-three hundred bucks-and figured I’d pay myself back after about three months. But Eugenia was busy with her dad, and for six months she didn’t have any tips for me. But I’d already paid myself back. You see the problem?”

“You falsified docs,” Burden said. “And you lied-”

“Fraud. It’s called fraud. And all the while, Mike’s on my case about it, and I couldn’t get in touch with Eugenia… So on top of everything else, it looked like I’d taken FBI money without getting info in exchange.”

“But you were just trying to help Eugenia and her dad. It’s not like you benefited financially.”

“Not the point. It wasn’t kosher, no matter how you sliced it. Anyone ever found out, I’d have been censured. And forget a promotion to BAU. You know how many agents want one of those coveted spots? I get passed over, I probably never get another shot. And I needed the promotion because Jonathan was young and it was too risky being on the front line. I figured BAU would be safer. But a letter of censure-I would’ve been permanently fucked.”

“So Hartman knew about this,” Burden said. “And apparently he told someone else. Our UNSUB. Or he told someone who told our UNSUB.”

“No way of knowing which,” Vail said.

Burden cocked his head. “Given the tight timeframe, it’s more likely that he told our guy directly.”

“Why didn’t you just level with us?” Dixon asked. “With me.”

Vail knew what she was asking: given their friendship, couldn’t she at least tell her?

“There was nothing anyone could’ve done. I tried reaching out to Hartman. He wasn’t taking my calls.”

“But you could’ve gone to his ASAC,” Dixon said. “Hartman would’ve answered his boss’s calls. And what could the Bureau do to you now?”

Vail chuckled. “When the shit starts flying, everyone watches their own ass to make sure it doesn’t stick to them. Even if Gifford had my back, I committed fraud and broke vaunted FBI procedure, then knowingly concealed it for years. No offense, but I’d rather not hand them a gift-wrapped excuse to throw the only woman out of BAU-or even out of the Bureau.”

Burden spread his arms. “Just so we’re clear. You put your own interests ahead of Robert’s life?”

“No-I didn’t think-” Vail stopped. Shit, that is what I did. “I didn’t think. You’re right. If I had gone to Hartman’s ASAC, we might’ve gotten an answer from him.” She looked up at Burden. “I know this doesn’t help, but I’m more sorry than I can possibly express with words.”

Burden frowned and shook his head. “We’ll discuss this later. Right now-”

The sound of footsteps coming down Broadway made them all turn. A man dressed in a security guard uniform was approaching on the run. “Here comes my new partner,” Burden said. “Your chance to redeem yourself, Karen. Find Hartman. And find out who he’s been talking to.”

VAIL PULLED OUT HER MAP and consulted it for a moment to identify their area of coverage before they began jogging down the hill. In addition to the whipping, icy Bay winds, Vail was experiencing another type of chill: Dixon chose to express her dissatisfaction with Vail’s poor choice by giving her the silent treatment.

They headed up the main road, past the burned-out Officer’s Club, which was now a shell of a building. They rubbernecked their heads, looking left and right, ahead, and behind them.

This is ridiculous. Dim light…an entire island, several large buildings, a bunch of small ones…he could be anywhere.

“Roxx, I know you’re pissed at me. And you have every right. But can’t we deal with that later? We need to focus on finding Hartman.”

“You’re the one who seems to have a problem with priorities.”

Ow. Guess I deserve that. But the hurt was blunted by the sight of something that lay ahead of them. Vail slapped Dixon’s shoulder, then took off on a run. “Follow me,” she said, heading toward a prominent smokestack that protruded into the foggy mist of an Alcatraz evening.

Down the road, off in the darkness, Vail heard the cry of gulls. They weren’t swirling in a frenzy, but perhaps they had been earlier; in the cellhouse, toward the other side of the island, they may not have heard it.

Vail did not know what building this was until she pulled the map from her pocket and held it out so Dixon could look on. Vail stabbed at the paper with a finger. “Quartermaster warehouse on the right, Powerhouse on the left. Caponier behind it.” She shoved the brochure back into her jeans. “That’s it, Roxx. The smokestack.”

Dixon craned her neck into the darkness. “You sure about this?”

Vail walked forward and ascended a metal staircase that led to the roof of a flat-topped structure. “About as sure as I can be, without having a clue what I’m doing.”

“That’s very confidence-inspiring.”

Vail and Dixon climbed the steps, then ran toward the roof’s edge-and the smokestack, which telescoped skyward from behind the building.

Vail peered down into the darkness. Although she could not see much, she saw enough. She bent over and rested both hands on her knees. “Shit.”

Dixon pulled her phone and dialed Burden. “We’ve got him,” she said. “Behind the Powerhouse building, on top of the Old North Caponier.” Dixon shared a frustrated look with Vail. “No, Burden. He’s tied to a smokestack. Dead, just like the others.”

“THIS DOESN’T BODE WELL FOR ROBERT,” Burden said, standing with arms folded, approximately ten feet from Mike Hartman’s body. Burden had made it to their location in three minutes, followed a moment later by Yeung and Carondolet.

“Don’t jump to conclusions,” Vail said. “Hartman had information that we think could’ve revealed the offender’s identity. So he was a liability. Far as we know, Friedberg had no idea who the UNSUB was.”

Burden grumbled. “I guess that’s something.”

“He’s tied around the smokestack with an electrical extension cord,” Price said, bending and examining the binding with her flashlight.

“That’s a new one,” Burden said.

Vail stepped closer to check it out. “And possibly significant.”

“And the body’s still warm,” Price said as she strained to see her watch in the scant light. “Which would make sense since he walked out of the cellhouse only about forty, forty-five minutes ago.”

Burden swung around, his eyes probing the darkness. “The UNSUB’s still on the island.”

Carondolet held up a hand. “Not necessarily. Lots of places to land-and hide-a boat here. We take the easiest, most civilized way-the dock. But depending on how hard you want to make it on yourself, if you’ve got a small craft or even something like a Zodiac or a motorboat, there are plenty of spots to come ashore. Except maybe for the sea wall along the south tip of the island, almost anywhere else is possible. In the right spot, with some foliage thrown on top for cover, no one’d even know.”

“His cell still in his pocket?” Vail asked.

“I searched, didn’t find one,” Price said as she leaned closer to Hartman’s head.

“Can you get hold of his office LUDs and cell phone records?” Vail asked Yeung.

“I’ll see what I can do.” He pulled his BlackBerry and started dialing. “This time of night, who knows.”

“Uh…just found something,” Price said as she trained her flashlight on Hartman’s lips. She used a tongue depressor to pry the teeth apart, then said, “Someone give me a hand.”

Burden stepped forward to hold the light while the tech reached into Hartman’s mouth and removed a piece of paper. She handed it back towards Vail, who opened the folded note.

Vail sighed deeply. “Got that light?” She held it toward the illumination that Burden diverted to her hand, then read it aloud. “‘You finally got this one, so I’ll give you one more shot. Look for an old cable in a small dark place, near where California bricks were found long ago. Be quick or bye-bye Bob.’”

“I assume that’s a reference to your kidnapped guy,” Carondolet said.

“At least we know he’s still alive,” Dixon said.

Vail snorted. “If you can trust the word of a psychopath.”

Burden’s gaze was on the ground, and he was mumbling audibly. He looked up and said, “California bricks…San Francisco…the Gold Rush…Gold bricks?”

“Back up,” Dixon said. “Where’s there an old cable?” She pulled the note back into the light. “An old cable in a dark place. What kind of cable? The old type of telegraph?”

“Cables are found, where?” Vail asked.

“The bridges,” Burden said. “There are cables that suspend them. Robert once told me how many miles of cables made-

“Cable Car,” Dixon said. “They run on cables below the street, right? That’s a dark place.”

“Yes,” Vail said. “Is there a train depot for cable cars?”

“Something they call a barn,” Burden said. “They park ’em there overnight.”

“We don’t have time to debate this,” Dixon said. “I think we’ve gotta run with it.”

“What if we’re wrong?” Burden asked.

“Let’s hope we’re not.”

Burden nodded at Carondolet. “Detective. Can you coordinate with my office and help them out with the MacNally backgrounder? We need to know everything possible about the guy. And familiarize yourselves with the file. Have the task force email you everything we’ve got. There’s a bunch of vics to catch up on.”

A boat appeared to be approaching at a good rate, a spotlight sweeping the north end of the island.

Dixon nodded toward it. “Looks like backup’ll be here any minute.”

Burden waved his arms and got a light signal in return. “Have them search the island, just in case he’s still here.”

“He won’t be,” Vail said. “But maybe we’ll get lucky. God knows we need it.”

“And I’ll have an answer on Hartman’s phone logs ASAP,” Yeung said.

“Call us,” Vail said as she backed away, following Burden and Dixon toward the roadway. “Soon as you’ve got something.”