The Letter Of The Law

CHAPTER 30

Casey found a meter half a block from the police station. When she stepped out onto the sidewalk, she was momentarily filled with apprehension. Lipton could be lurking anywhere in the busy throng of people. It seemed he was always one step ahead of her despite the fact that there was no way for him to know what moves she was planning to make. Casey searched the street, and when she saw Sales cruising slowly along, slumped down in the front seat of his uncle's blue pickup, she felt suddenly reassured.

With the large manila envelope clamped in both hands, Casey hurried up the steps of police headquarters. Inside, the shift change had left the lobby busy enough for her to simply set her thin package down on the floor and walk quickly away without exciting notice. When she got to the door, Casey paused long enough to see a uniformed patrolwoman stop, bend down, and pick up the envelope, which bore Bolinger's name in bold black letters. The female officer looked around, apparently for the detective who had dropped his package. Casey turned and left, again scanning the crowded sidewalk as well as the busy street for any sign of Lipton.

Bolinger was on the phone and into his fourth cup of coffee by the time the envelope found its way through the department up onto his desk. He waved his thanks to the detective who'd dropped it off and eyed it suspiciously while he finished the call. After hanging up, he examined it. He could feel the disk through the paper. Not knowing if it was a CD for a stereo or a computer or something else entirely, he opened it with caution. The silver disk still didn't tell him anything, so he took it to Farnhorst, who was more in tune with the digital age.

"Computer disk," Farnhorst stated authoritatively. "A blank you use to copy stuff onto. Whose is it?"

"I don't know," Bolinger said, squinting his eyes. "Izenberg dropped it off on my desk and said something about someone finding it on the floor in the lobby. It's got my name on it, but I have no idea where it came from."

"Maybe it's an anonymous tip," Farnhorst joked.

"Can you tell me what's on it?"

Farnhorst raised his eyebrows and said loudly, "You kidding me? You really don't know how to use one of these?"

Bolinger was suddenly aware of all the younger, computer-literate detectives who were sitting around the large room trying their best not to notice his predicament.

"Come on, man," Farnhorst said in a tone that only an old friend could use with the sergeant. "Give me that."

Farnhorst swiped the disk out of Bolinger's hand and rose from his chair with a grumble. Bolinger followed him penitently over to the computers, neither of which was being used at the moment. Bolinger pulled up a chair and watched over Farnhorst's shoulder as he inserted the disk into the D drive and it whirred to life. As Farnhorst accessed the disk, the Microsoft licensing box appeared and he emitted a low whistle.

Bolinger, who had no idea what his friend was seeing, said, "What?"

"Whatever's on here belongs to the professor," Farnhorst said as he began to analyze the directory.

"You mean Lipton?"

"The one and only," Farnhorst told him. "All kinds of shit on here, Bob. It's gonna take me some time to sift through it…"

"I don't give a shit if it takes us three months," Bolinger said, grabbing a chair and scooting it right up next to his friend's. "Neither of us is going anywhere until we turn this thing inside out."

"Who would-" Bolinger began the question out loud and then cut himself short. He was pretty sure he knew exactly who would leave something like this in the lobby, and he was better off not saying it out loud.

By lunchtime, they were into the good stuff. When Bolinger saw the bio on Casey Jordan, it made him more certain than ever where the disk had come from. Of course, he appreciated her discretion. As far as he knew, as far as a judge would know, the information had just appeared. If Lipton couldn't prove the violation of an attorney-client privilege, then a jury would see this information. Bolinger felt the excitement of a big case breaking wide open boiling up inside him. This disk would shortcut his efforts by months or even years. Who could say if he ever could have accumulated such information? Even with the FBI's subpoena power, he would have had to enlist the cooperation of random law enforcement people from all over the country to track down stale cases when they all had fresh ones to worry about.

Now, though, Bolinger could check specific names and places and identify victims. With this disk, he could build a case so foolproof all the Casey Jordans in the world couldn't get Lipton off.

"Bob," Farnhorst said, breaking into his reverie, "I gotta get some lunch."

"I'll order some sandwiches. You sit right here."

Bolinger turned to the small crowd of detectives who were watching them from across the room. Every so often, one of them would amble over and catch a bit of what was going on, but for the most part, they kept the respectful distance of spectators at a monumental event.

"Hanson," Bolinger said, "will you get a couple of roast beef sandwiches and some sodas sent up?"

Hanson nodded and scrambled to a phone, glad to help out in any way.

"Hey," Bolinger continued, "don't the rest of you guys have work to do?"

As the group dispersed, another detective said, "Sarge, there's a call for you in your office."

Bolinger gave Farnhorst a look of warning not to abandon his post and got up from his seat. It felt good to stand. The two of them had been sitting for more than two hours.

"Tell you what," he said to Farnhorst, "take five, but don't make me go chasing you down. I got sandwiches coming."

Bolinger picked up the phone in his office. It was Unger.

"How's it going?" the agent asked.

"Fine," Bolinger said impatiently. "I've got a potential breakthrough, so I can't talk."

"A breakthrough?" Unger asked.

Bolinger sensed a hint of alarm in the agent's voice. "Yeah," he said warily.

"You… did you find Lipton?" Unger said unable to disguise the concern in his voice.

"No," Bolinger replied suspiciously. "But I may have some information that will get a lot more people than you and me looking for him. But you don't have to worry about it. I've got the whole thing under control."

Bolinger was about to hang up when Unger shot back, "I want to come down and see what you've got, Bob. I… I really want to get going on this case. I've got some things of my own that I can't talk about over the phone, but I may have a breakthrough, too."

"Fine," Bolinger said, feigning as much interest as he could. "Come on down."

Bolinger could and would mobilize his people under the auspices of the Frank Castle investigation. He had that authority and he would use it. He wanted to be the one to bring Lipton down. But on a grander scale, this was an FBI case, and once they found out that murders as spectacular as the ones Lipton had committed had occurred across state lines, they would step in and grab the whole deal. A special task force would be assigned, and a Fed would run it. Bolinger could only imagine the publicity over a murderer set free with the woman who helped him sitting on his hit list. He made a mental note to contact Casey Jordan. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to keep someone with her in the event that she really had seen Lipton following her. Meanwhile, every Fed in the country would be clamoring for a piece of this case. It would certainly be enough to make Dean Wentworth forget about his string of bank robberies.

But if it had to be a Fed running the show, it might as well be his Fed. He'd seen Unger's type before. He was burned out before his time, lackadaisical and ineffective. Bolinger could control him. But at the same time, in the interest of staying as close to the case as he could, Bolinger would do his best to make it look as though Unger had outdone himself. He wanted the FBI to think that Unger was not only capable but the best choice of agent to see the investigation to its finish.