The God's Eye View

CHAPTER 29

Anders ushered Manus into his office with the usual courtesy. He’d received an odd text from Manus in the middle of the night: Please can I see you. I did something wrong. Anders had a good idea of what that something was, and if Manus felt the need to unburden himself, Anders would be pleased to take his confession.

“Marvin,” he said, after they were both seated on opposite sides of Anders’s desk. “What’s on your mind?”

Manus looked down and twisted his hands in his lap, the picture of guilt. Then he said, “I saw the woman again. Even though you told me not to.”

Yes, Anders knew very well that Manus had seen her again. He’d watched all of it, and indeed was already having a transcription prepared by someone fluent in American Sign Language.

“Why, Marvin?”

Manus reddened. “When I went to her apartment the first time, I stayed for dinner.”

“Yes, you told me.”

“But I didn’t tell you about afterward. Her son went to sleep, and, and…”

There was a pause. Anders said, “Oh. I think I understand.”

Manus looked at him, his expression an odd amalgam of dread and hope. “You do?”

“Are you telling me something happened between the two of you? Something… sexual?”

Manus looked down and nodded.

Anders steepled his fingers and waited. When Manus had looked up again, Anders said, “Why didn’t you tell me at the time?”

“I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Well, it might not have. But it’s better if I make those decisions, Marvin, not you.”

Manus nodded again, his shoulders slumped. The man looked so forlorn, Anders almost wanted to comfort him.

“Especially in this instance,” Anders said. “I asked you to get close to her, remember? And you exceeded my expectations! If you’d told me, I would have been proud of you. And in fact, I am proud of you. Other than that you felt you had to conceal something from me.”

“I’m sorry. She texted me. Last night. And I went to her. Because… because…”

“Yes, I think I can understand why you went to her. She’s an attractive woman.”

“I didn’t think it would matter because you told me she was all right, that you trusted her. But then, last night, she told me something.”

Anders felt a surge of intense interest, along with goodwill and relief. This was what he needed. Information. And beyond that, Manus — not just confessing the relationship to get out of trouble, but truly demonstrating where his loyalties lay. He leaned forward. “And what was that?”

“She was upset. Crying. She said she saw something at work she wasn’t supposed to and was scared about what was going to happen. So I don’t think you were right about her. When you said you weren’t worried anymore, I mean.”

Anders nodded and considered. He had sensed Gallagher had learned something from her review of the camera coverage. That man with the cigarette… it was too thin. She shouldn’t have wasted his time with it. It felt like a distraction, a red herring. And why would she be trying to distract him unless she had seen something suspicious — something that had enhanced the suspicions she already harbored?

First, her questions about Stiles. Then her knowledge of the connection between Hamilton and Perkins. Then her odd behavior regarding the camera footage, not to mention the very fact of the manual review she had decided to undertake on her own initiative. And God knew what she made of the news about the attack on Azaz, and of Hamilton’s resulting death. Of course, Hamilton was gone, and that was a huge relief. But now this woman was potentially positioned to exhume him. It couldn’t be allowed.

“Did she say what she was planning to do?” Anders asked, with a casual wave of the hand designed to obscure the urgency of the question. He would know the answer himself, of course, as soon as he received the transcript of the conversation. But he wanted to hear it from Manus now.

“She said she didn’t know. But she was very upset.”

“Upset enough to… pose a risk?”

Manus nodded, but more to himself than to Anders. Anders let him take his time. It wasn’t an easy question for a man in Manus’s position to answer, and he wanted Manus to be able to consider the implications of his response.

After a moment, Manus said, “I think so.”

Anders was enormously pleased. Manus was human. He’d been tempted, and he’d made a mistake. But he had returned to himself. He had returned to Anders.

Anders leaned back and rested his clasped fingers on the desk. “All right, Marvin. Thank you. Thank you for being honest with me.”

Manus shook his head as though he didn’t deserve the praise. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. You made a small mistake and you corrected it. This is very helpful information. Extremely helpful. Thank you.”

Manus stood as though to go, then said almost shyly, “If you need to stop her from doing something bad, I want to help.”

Anders was actually touched. Could there have been a more eloquent expression of loyalty? Or of the desire to demonstrate it?

“In fact, Marvin,” he said slowly, “I think that’s possible at this point. But… are you sure? It’s not necessary. The truth is, this is probably more a job for Delgado.”

For a moment, Manus’s expression was troubled. But only for a moment. “I understand. But… if I can help, I want to. If you’ll let me.”

Anders considered. Well, Gallagher was probably apt to be more watchful just now than Delgado’s usual targets. It wouldn’t hurt for the man to have Manus there as a possible distraction. And as backup. And certainly Manus deserved a chance to make amends, in the only way he really knew how. Which was, as it happened, the only way that really mattered.

“You tracked her with a StingRay earlier, correct?” Anders asked.

Manus nodded.

“Good. Get in touch with Delgado. Give him the access codes so he can track her, too. I’ll let him know you’ll be assisting.”

Manus nodded quickly, his eagerness momentarily sneaking past the usual stoicism.

Anders watched him go. He was glad he was able to offer Manus the opportunity to help Delgado. But he thought it best that Manus be involved only for the setup. After what had happened between Manus and Gallagher, it would be unnecessarily cruel to make Manus witness the woman’s actual demise. Especially given Delgado’s proclivities. Which, though an occasional and unfortunate necessity, Anders couldn’t deny he also found… distasteful.

He pushed the thought aside. Evelyn Gallagher had to go, and she had to go in a deniable fashion. And what could be more deniable, and distracting, than a long-term serial rapist working the I-95 corridor? That Delgado enjoyed his work, to the point of sometimes doing it even as an out-of-town hobby, wasn’t a comfortable thing to know. But on the other hand, his behavior introduced an element of randomness that obscured the occasionally more targeted nature of his activities. And doubtless his predilections were also part of why he was so good at what he did, why he always achieved the proper results. Right now, those results were the only thing that mattered. In fact, the results were the only thing that ever mattered.

It was important to remember that. Even if other people couldn’t understand.