Roses Are Red

Chapter Seventy-Two

I went to the FBI field office early the next morning. The floor was buzzing with faxes, phones, personal computers, and energy good and bad. It was already pretty clear that Mitchell Brand wasn't our man, and maybe even that he had been set up.

Betsey Cavalierre had returned from her weekend off. She had a tan, a bright smile, and looked nicely rested. I wondered briefly where she had been, but then I was sucked into the powerful vortex of the investigation again.

The high-tech FBI war room was still in place, but now three of the four walls were covered with possible leads. The FBI point of view was that every avenue must be explored. The director had already gone on record that it was the largest manhunt in FBI history. Corporate America was applying enormous pressure. The same thing had happened after the Unabomber had killed a New York businessman in the early nineties.

I spent most of the day in a windowless, seemingly airless conference room watching an endless slide show, along with several agents and Metro police detectives. Suspects were continuously shown on the big screen, then discussed, and placed into three categories: Discard, Active, and Extremely Active.

At six o'clock that night, Senior Agent Walsh held a meeting that covered the possibility that the crew might strike again soon. Betsey Cavalierre arrived late for the briefing. She sat in the back and observed.

Two FBI behavioral psychologists had worked up a list of potential future targets for the Mastermind. The targets included multinational banks, other top insurance companies, credit-card companies, communications conglomerates, and Wall Street firms.

One of the behavioral psychologists, Dr. Joanna Rodman, stated that the robberies demonstrated venom and hatred like she'd never seen before. She said the perpetrators relished outwitting authorities, and possibly hungered for fame and notoriety.

Dr. Rodman then made her most challenging statement. She believed that the Mastermind would strike again. "I'm willing to bet on it," she said, 'and I'm not a betting type of person."

I remained quiet for most of the meeting. I preferred to sit in the back of the class and listen. That was the way I had gone through Georgetown undergraduate and then Johns Hopkins.

Agent Cavalierre would have none of it. "Dr. Cross, what do you think about the possibility of our Mastermind hitting again?" she asked shortly after Dr. Rodman finished speaking. "Care to make your bet?"

I rubbed my lower face and I remembered that I'd had the same tic in grad school. I sat up in my seat.

"I'm not a betting person either. I think the list of potential targets is thorough. I agree with most of what's been said. One person is running this thing. Different crews were recruited for very specific tasks."

I frowned slightly at Betsey, then I went on. "I think the first robbery-murders were supposed to terrify everybody. They did. But in the Metro Hartford job, the crew was supposed to operate quickly and efficiently, without bloodshed. I didn't see evidence of venom or hatred in the Metro Hartford kidnapping. Not from what the hostages told us. That's inconsistent with the earlier bank robberies. The fact that no one was killed makes me believe … that it's all over. It's done."

"Thirty million and out?" Betsey Cavalierre asked. "That's it?"

I nodded. "I think the Mastermind's game now is catch me if you can. And by the way you can't."