Pendergast [07] The Book of the Dead(61)
“I don’t understand.”
“Access Pendergast’s arrest records. Run them against your current prison population, see if you can find any matches.”
“You mean, see if any of the perps Pendergast arrested are currently in Herkmoor?”
“That’s the idea, yes.”
Coffey glanced over his shoulder at Rabiner. The agent had a wolfish smirk on his face.
“Boss, I like the way you think,” he said.
Imhof pulled the keyboard toward him and began typing. Then he stared at the screen for a long moment while Coffey waited in growing impatience.
“Strange,” Imhof said. “Pendergast’s collars seem to have suffered a rather high mortality rate. Most never made it to trial.”
“Surely, there have to be some live ones who made it through the legal system and ended up in prison.”
More typing. Then Imhof leaned back from the monitor. “There are two currently residing in Herkmoor.”
Coffey looked at him sharply. “Tell me about them.”
“One is named Albert Chichester.”
“Go on.”
“He’s a serial killer.”
Coffey rubbed his hands together, glanced again at Rabiner.
“Poisoned twelve people in the nursing home where he was employed,” Imhof went on. “Male nurse. Seventy-three years old.”
As quickly as it had come, Coffey’s exhilaration fell away. “Oh,” he said.
There was a brief silence.
“What about the other one?” S.A. Rabiner asked.
“A serious felon named Carlos Lacarra. They call him El Pocho.”
“Lacarra,” Coffey repeated.
Imhof nodded. “Former drug kingpin. Real hard case. Worked his way up through East L.A. street gangs and then came east. Took over much of the Hudson County and Newark enforcement action.”
“Yeah?”
“Tortured a whole family to death, including three kids. Revenge for a deal gone bad. Says here Pendergast was the S.A. in charge on that one—funny, I didn’t remember that.”
“What’s Lacarra’s record here?”
“Leads a gang in here known as the Broken Teeth. A major pain in the rear for our guards.”
“The Broken Teeth,” Coffey murmured. The exhilaration was quickly returning. “Now, tell me, Mr. Imhof. Where does this Pocho Lacarra currently enjoy his exercise privileges?”
“Yard 4.”
“And what would happen if you transferred Agent Pendergast to, ah, yard 4 for his daily exercise period?”
Imhof frowned. “If Lacarra recognized him, it would be ugly. Or even if he didn’t.”
“How so?”
“Lacarra… Well, there isn’t a delicate way of putting it: he likes a white boy for his bitch.”
Coffey thought for a moment. “I see. Please give the order at once.”
Imhof’s frown deepened. “Agent Coffey, that’s a rather extreme step—”
“I’m afraid our man has left us with no choice. I’ve seen hard cases in my time, I’ve seen sullen impudence before, but nothing like this. The way he disrespects the legal process, this prison—and you, in particular—is shocking. It really is.”
Imhof drew in a breath. Coffey noticed, with satisfaction, that the man’s nostrils flared briefly.
“Stick him in there, Imhof,” Coffey said quietly. “Stick him in there, but keep an eye on the situation. Extract him if things get out of hand. But don’t extract him too soon, if you get my meaning.”
“If something does happen, there could be fallout. I’ll need you to back me up.”
“You can count on me, Imhof. I’m behind you, in all the way.” And with that, Coffey turned, nodded to the still-grinning Rabiner, and left the office.
28
Captain of Homicide Laura Hayward sat at her desk, gazing at the storm of paperwork in front of her. She hated disorder; she hated mess; she hated unsquared papers and shabby piles. And yet it seemed no matter how much she sorted and squared and organized, it ended up this way: the desk a physical manifestation of the disorder and frustration within her own mind. By rights, she should be typing up a report on the murder of DeMeo. Yet she felt paralyzed. It was damned hard to work on open cases when you felt you’d royally screwed up on a previous one; that maybe an innocent—or mostly innocent—man was in prison, unjustly charged with a crime that carried a potential death sentence…
She made another enormous effort to impose order on her mind. She had always organized her thoughts in lists: she was forever making lists nested within lists within lists. And she was finding it difficult to move forward with her other cases while the Pendergast case remained unresolved in her mind.