From: Alan Prendergast ‹ AlanPrendergast@LATimes.com›
Subject: Re: collision
Date: May 12, 2009 2:11 PM PDT
To: AngelaCook@LATimes.com
Hold tight. A lot can happen in two weeks.
From: Angela Cook ‹ AngelaCook@LATimes.com›
Subject: collision
Date: May 12, 2009 1:59 PM PDT
To: AlanPrendergast@LATimes.com
You told me I WOULD write it!
It looked like Angela was upset. But Carver didn’t know enough about the situation to understand it, so he moved on, opening up her old mail folder and getting lucky. She had not cleared her old mail list in several days. Carver scrolled through hundreds of messages and saw several from her colleague and cowriter Jack McEvoy. Carver began with the earliest one and started working his way forward to the most recent messages.
Soon he realized it was all innocuous, just basic communication between colleagues about stories and meetings in the cafeteria for coffee. Nothing salacious. Carver guessed from what he read that Cook and McEvoy were strangers until quite recently. There was a stiffness or formality to the e-mails. No shorthand or slang employed by either. It appeared that Jack didn’t know Angela until she had been assigned to the crime beat and he was assigned to train her.
In the last message, sent just a few hours before, Jack had sent Angela an e-mail with a proposed summary for a story they were working on together. Carver eagerly read it and felt his concerns about detection ease with every word.
From: Jack McEvoy ‹ JackMcEvoy@LATimes.com›
Subject: collision slug
Date: May 12, 2009 2:23 PM PDT
To: AngelaCook@LATimes.com
Angela, this is what I sent Prendo for the futures budget. Let me know if you want any changes.
Jack
COLLISION-On April 25th the body of Denise Babbit was found in the trunk of her own car in a beachside parking lot in Santa Monica. She had been sexually assaulted and asphyxiated when a plastic bag was pulled over her head and secured with clothesline. The exotic dancer with a history of drug problems died with her eyes wide open. It wasn’t long before police traced a lone fingerprint left on her car’s rearview mirror to a 16-year-old drug dealer and gangbanger from a South L.A. housing project. Alonzo Winslow, who grew up fast in the projects, not knowing his father and rarely seeing his mother, was arrested and charged as a juvenile with the crime. He confessed his role to the police and now awaits efforts by the state to prosecute him as an adult. We talk to the suspect and his family as well as those who knew the victim, and trace this fatal collision back to its origins. 90 inches-McEvoy and Cook, w/art by Lester
Carver read it again. He felt the muscles in his neck start to relax. McEvoy and Cook didn’t know anything. Jack the giant slayer was climbing the wrong bean stalk.
Just as he had planned it. Carver made a mental note to check back to read the story when it was published. He would be one of only three people on the planet to know how wrong it was-including that poor soul Alonzo Winslow.
He killed the list and brought up Cook’s sent messages. There was just the overlap of the back-and-forth with McEvoy and the missive to Prendergast. It was all pretty dry and useless to Carver.
He closed the e-mail and went to the browser. He scrolled down, seeing all the websites Cook had visited in recent days. He saw trunkmurder.com as well as several visits to Google and the websites of other newspapers. He then saw a website that intrigued him. He opened up DanikasDungeon.com and was treated to a visit to a Dutch bondage-and-domination site replete with photos of women controlling, taunting and torturing men. Carver smiled. He doubted there was a journalistic reason for Cook’s visit. He believed he was getting a glimpse of Angela Cook’s private interests. Her own dark journey.
Carver didn’t linger. He put the information aside, knowing it might be useful at a later time. He tried Prendergast next, since it appeared his password was obvious. He went with Prendo and was in on his first attempt. People were so stupid and obvious sometimes. He went to the mailbox, and there at the top of the list was a message from McEvoy that had been sent only two minutes earlier.
“What are you up to, Jack?”
Carver opened the message.
From: Jack McEvoy ‹ JackMcEvoy@LATimes.com›
Subject: collision
Date: May 12, 2009 4:33 PM PDT
To: AlanPrendergast@LATimes.com
Cc: AngelaCook@LATimes.com
Prendo, I was looking for you but you were at dinner. The story is changing. Alonzo didn’t confess to the killing and I don’t even think he did it. I’m heading to Vegas tonight to pursue things further tomorrow. Will fill you in then. Angela can handle the beat. I’ve got dimes.
– Jack
Carver felt his gorge rise in his throat. His neck muscles tightened sharply and he pushed back from the table in case he had to vomit. He pulled the trash can out from underneath so he could use it if necessary. His vision momentarily darkened at the edges but then the darkness passed and he cleared.
He kicked the trash can back into place and leaned forward to study the message again.
McEvoy had made the connection to Las Vegas. Carver now knew that he had only himself to blame. He had repeated his modus operandi too soon. He had left himself open and now Jack the giant slayer was on his trail. A critical mistake. McEvoy would get to Las Vegas and with even minimal luck he would put things together.
Carver had to stop that. A critical mistake didn’t have to be a fatal mistake, he told himself. He closed his eyes and thought for a long moment. It brought his confidence back. Some of it. He knew he was prepared for all eventualities. The beginning tendrils of a plan were reaching to him and the first order of business was to delete the message on the screen in front of him, and then go back into Angela Cook’s account and delete it from her mailbox as well. Prendergast and Cook would never see it and, with any luck, they’d never know what Jack McEvoy knew.
Carver deleted the message but before signing off uploaded a spy-ware program that would allow him to track all of Prendergast’s Internet activities in real time. He would know who Prendergast e-mailed, who contacted him and what websites he viewed. Carver then returned to Cook’s account and quickly took the same actions.
McEvoy was next but Carver decided that could come later-after Jack got to Vegas and was operating out there alone. First things first. He got up and put his hand on the reader next to the glass door to the server room. Once the scan was completed and approved, the door unlocked and he slid it open. It was cold in the server room, always kept at a brisk sixty-two degrees. His steps echoed on the raised metal flooring as he walked down the third row to the sixth tower. He unlocked the front of the refrigerator-size server with a key, bent down and pulled two of the data blades out a quarter inch. He then closed and relocked the door and headed back to his workstation.
Within a few seconds a screen alarm buzzed from the workstations. He typed in commands that would bring up the response protocol. He then waited a few more seconds and reached over to the phone. He pushed the intercom button and typed in McGinnis’s extension.
“Hey, boss, you still there?”
“What is it, Wesley? I’m about to head out.”
“We’ve got a code three problem. You better come look.”
Code 3 meant drop everything and move.