CHAPTER
76
THE 6:20 TRAIN.
It was rainy and foggy and chilly, the opposite of what summer should be, thought Devine, but then so was everything else. He was in his normal seat. He was looking out the window. The train slowed and then stopped. There was Cowl’s mansion.
Empty.
He was heading to Cowl and Clean Money, as he thought of it now. The media hadn’t gotten wind of anything that had happened in Cowl’s penthouse, which had been walled off and preserved for additional processing. The decision had been made to allow the Cowl firm to stay in business for now. Campbell had texted about the progress so far. It was not encouraging.
We have Cowl and Bartlett, for that is indeed who Karl Hancock is. But there is no electronic trail left from Area 51. It’s been NSA-level wiped. What we have on the photos and the camera feed isn’t enough. There is no chain of custody. We’ll be laughed out of court. But with Cowl cutting a deal we think we can get there in the end.
Devine had gotten that text at one in the morning.
As he neared the city he got a call from Campbell.
“Extremely bad news, Devine. Cowl and Bartlett are both dead. The latter in the hospital. Pillow over his face. Sentry killed, too.”
“And Cowl?”
“Shivved in a holding cell. The CCTV was taken offline. We’ve put a dome of silence over all this. No leaks, no one knows, for now. But that won’t last long. Back to square one, unfortunately, but I think we have them on the run. And DOJ and the other agencies are going after them with all they’ve got, even with the stonewalling going on with some of the politicos.”
Devine was not nearly as optimistic as the retired general. He was sure that Area 51 would be set up somewhere else, or consolidated with another ongoing operation. He wondered how much of America others truly owned.
The world is upside down. Good is bad and bad is deified.
And his instincts were telling him that a killer was still out there. Four people dead and it had everything to do with Sara Ewes, and not Brad Cowl and Area 51.
And it somehow has everything to do with me. I got the emails. They were sent to me for a reason. The killer is speaking directly to me. This is as personal as it gets.
He didn’t get much done at work. His brain was in too much of a fog. All the other Burners were in the process of getting interviews at other firms and venting about their problems. He just tried to tune it out.
When he got home from work that night, he found Valentine on the couch, sucking down beer and eating a hot dog instead of pizza.
“Hey, dude, you’re early tonight. How goes it? You figure all that shit out?”
“I think so.”
“So all is good?”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
* * *
The news finally broke about the murder of Brad Cowl while in police custody. The financial press, already reeling from the string of murders connected to the firm, was covering all of this with astonishment mixed with a bit of glee, even as a few rumors started to circulate about possible financial improprieties at Cowl and Comely.
As Devine read through these news accounts on his phone in his room after coming home from work one night, he shook his head.
Possible financial improprieties? Just wait. This will make Bernie Madoff look like a third-rate grifter if it ever sees the light of day.
Later, he texted Montgomery and arranged to meet her at a hotel the next day, where she was staying with a security team.
In the city, he cleared her armed guards and knocked on the door of Montgomery’s room. She opened it immediately. She had on jeans and a white T-shirt. She looked like she’d been crying.
He closed the door behind him. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
She dabbed at her eyes and sat on the bed. “My mother called. She heard about Brad and also about Christian. She wanted to know if I was involved somehow. My own mother!”