The Sixth Man

CHAPTER 7

SEAN AND MICHELLE WERE ESCORTED into a room that was blankly white. Small. One door. Three chairs, one table, all bolted to the floor. Two chairs faced the one. In front of the one was a three-inch metal ring cemented into the floor. Between the two chairs and the one was a three-foot-wide wall of four-inch polycarbonate glass that ran from the floor to the ceiling.

And then the door opened and there he was.

Sean and Michelle had seen photos of Edgar Roy, both in the newspapers and also in a file packet Ted Bergin had sent them. Sean had even seen a segment of video on the man shortly after his arrest for the murders. Nothing prepared them for seeing the man in person.

He was six foot eight and extremely lean, like a giant number two pencil. He had a golf ball for an Adam’s apple set on a long neck. His hair was dark, long, and curly, and it framed a face that was thin and not unattractive. He wore glasses. Behind the lenses were black dots for eyes, like the die cuts on a pair of dice. Sean noted the man’s slender fingers. Tufts of hair stuck out from inside his ears. He was clean-shaven.

His arms and legs were shackled and he hobbled in truncated steps as the guards led him over to the chair behind the glass and locked the shackles into the floor ring. It allowed him mobility of about six inches. Two guards stood on either side of him. They were big men, with impassive faces. They were seemingly crafted from stone to guard other people. Neither one had weapons other than telescopic metal billy clubs. These could extend out four feet and deliver crushing blows.

At the doorway were two more guards. Each one gripped pump action shotguns that had been modified to hold a Taser component that could fire a twelve-gauge projectile up to a hundred feet, delivering a twenty-second pulse of energy that would lay an NFL tackle on the ground and keep him there for a long time.

Sean and Michelle turned their attention back to Edgar Roy behind the wall of bulletproof glass. His long legs stuck out straight, the heels of his prison-issued canvas loafers kissing the wall of unbreakable glass.

“Okay,” said Sean, drawing his gaze from Roy and and eyeing the guards. “We’ll need to speak to our client alone.”

None of the four guards even moved an inch. They could’ve been statues.

Sean said, “I’m his attorney. We need some alone time, guys.”

Still no movement. Apparently the four men were immobile and deaf.

Sean licked his lips. “Okay, who’s your supervisor?” he asked the guy holding a shotgun.

The man didn’t even look at Sean.

Sean glanced at Roy. Sean wasn’t even sure he was still alive because he couldn’t see the rise and fall of his chest. He didn’t blink, didn’t twitch. His eyes just stared straight ahead, looking but apparently not registering on anything.

“Having fun yet?”

They turned to see Agent Murdock staring at them from the doorway.

“For starters, can you tell the muscle to leave the room?” said Sean, his voice rising slightly. “They don’t seem to get the whole attorney-client thing.”

“Last night you were just a PI. Today you’re a lawyer?”

“I already showed my credentials to Ms. Dukes.”

“And you authorized us to see the guy,” added Michelle.

“So I did.”

“Then can we see him?” asked Sean. “In a professional manner?”

Murdock smiled and then nodded at the guards. “Right outside the door, gentlemen. You hear anything out of the ordinary, you know what to do.”

“The guy’s manacled to the floor and there’s a wall of four-inch polycarbonate glass between us,” said Michelle. “I’m not sure there’s much he can do.”

“I wasn’t necessarily referring to the prisoner,” replied Murdock.

The door shut behind them, and Sean and Michelle were finally alone with their client.

Sean leaned forward. “Mr. Roy? I’m Sean King. This is my partner Michelle Maxwell. We’re working with Ted Bergin. I know you’ve met with him previously.”

Roy said nothing. Didn’t blink, twitch, or seem to breathe.

Sean sat back, opened his briefcase, and looked at some papers. All pens, paper clips, and other sharp and potentially deadly instruments had been confiscated, although Sean supposed he could have inflicted a nasty paper cut on someone. “Ted Bergin told us that he was preparing a defense for you. Did he talk to you about what exactly that was?”

When Roy made no reaction, Michelle said, “I think we’re wasting our time. In fact, I think I can hear Murdock laughing his ass off behind that steel door.”

“Mr. Roy, we really need to discuss some things.”

“They put him here because he’s not fit for trial, Sean. I don’t know what he was like when he got here, but I can’t believe he’s gotten any better. By the looks of things this guy might be stuck at Cutter’s Rock for the rest of his life.”

Sean put the papers away. “Mr. Roy? Did you know that Ted Bergin has been murdered?” He said it in a blunt, loud tone, obviously hoping to get some type of reaction from Roy.

It didn’t work.

Sean looked around the small space. He leaned close to Michelle and whispered, “What are the odds this room has hidden recorders?”

“Taping an attorney’s conversation with his client? Can’t they get in big trouble for that?” she whispered back.

“Only if someone finds out and can prove it.” He sat back up, took out his cell phone. “No bars. But I had reception right before we got here.”

“Jamming?”

“That’s supposed to be illegal, too. I wondered why they let me keep it. At most prisons they confiscate it from visitors.”

“Because cell phones in prison are going for more money than cocaine. Heard of a guard somewhere out west making six figures a year selling Nokias and service plans at a state pen. Now he’s dialing from inside the place, too.”

“Look at his ankle, Michelle.”

The ankle bracelet was the color of titanium. A glowing red light sat in the center of it.

Michelle said, “They use them in some of the supermaxes and on the likes of Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan. Throws out a wireless signal, pinpoints the person’s precise location. Go outside the zone and an alarm is triggered.”

Sean dropped his voice. “How many places can the guy go in here that he needs an electronic ankle bracelet?”

“Good point. Want to ask Murdock? Or maybe Carla Dukes?”

Sean glanced sharply up at Edgar Roy. Had there been some slight–

No. The eyes were still lifeless dots.

“You think he’s been drugged?” asked Michelle. “His pupils look dilated.”

“I don’t know what to think. Without a medical exam.”

“He’s really tall. But skinny. Doesn’t look strong enough to have killed all those people.”

“He’s only thirty-five. So prime of his life when he did the killings.”

“If he did them, you mean.”

“Right. If.”

“But the details of the killings haven’t been made public. The bodies haven’t even been identified.”

“Maybe they have but that info hasn’t been released to the public either,” he replied.

“Why wouldn’t it have been?”

“Maybe this is a really special case.” He rose. “Mr. Roy. Thanks for meeting with us. We’ll be back.”

“We will?” asked Michelle in a low voice.

When they knocked on the door it immediately opened.

“How’d it go?” asked Murdock with a smirk.

“He told us everything,” said Michelle. “He’s innocent. You can let him go now.”

“Found some interesting things at Bergin’s digs at Gray’s Lodge,” said Murdock, ignoring her.

“Oh, yeah, like what?” asked Sean.

“Nothing you need to know about.”

“Oh, you’re a real tease, Murdock,” said Michelle. “Do they teach a class in that at Quantico?”

Sean added, “If it’s attorney work product I do need to know about it. That’s privileged.”

“File some papers then. The Bureau lawyers need a good laugh. In the meantime, you’re not getting the document.”

“So Roy is a zombie. Can he take a pee, feed himself?”

“He’s in good shape. Physically. That answer your question?”

He turned and left.

“That guy really likes us,” said Michelle sarcastically. “Think he’ll want to go on a date with me? I can dispose of the body pretty efficiently.”

Sean wasn’t paying attention to her. He was watching the guards escort Roy back to his cell. As the man passed, Sean could see that he towered over even the biggest of the four guards. Sean also noted that Roy moved under his own power, shuffling along with his manacles clanking. But in the face there was nothing.

Black dots.

Nothing.

Which was exactly what they had right now.