3rd Degree (Women's Murder Club 3)
Joe Molinari came over to me. He’d been giving Washington an update on what had just happened. “You okay?” he asked.
“It’s not over,” I said, nodding at the tagged mounds.
“Danko?” He shrugged. “The medical people will have to tell us that. In any case, his network is gone, his cell. The device, too. What can he do now?”
Amid the wreckage, I spotted something—a barrette. There was something almost funny about it. I reached down and picked it up.
“Voice of the people be heard,” I said to Molinari, holding out the barrette.
There was a peace symbol on it.
Chapter 99
CHARLES DANKO was wandering the streets of San Francisco aimlessly and thinking about what had just happened in Berkeley, where his friends had died for the cause, died as martyrs just like William had a long time ago.
I could kill a lot of people right now. Right here.
He knew he could go on a rampage and they wouldn’t catch him for several hours, maybe longer if he got his head screwed on straight, if he thought this through—if he was a careful killer.
You’re dead, slick young business creep in your expensive-looking black-on-black ensemble.
You’re dead, too, blond fashionista.
You. And you. You! You! You four frolicking asshole buddies!
God, it would be so easy to let his rage out now.
The police, the FBI, they were pathetic at their job of “protecting” the people.
They had everything wrong, didn’t they?
They didn’t understand that this could be about justice and revenge. The two concepts were perfectly compatible; they could go hand in hand. He was following in his brother William’s footsteps, honoring his fallen brother’s inspired dream, and at the same time he was avenging William. Two causes were better than one. Twice the motivation; twice the anger.
The faces he was passing, the expensive clothes, the absurd shops, were all starting to blur before his eyes—all of them were guilty. The whole country was.
They didn’t get it, though. Not yet.
The war was right here in their streets of gold—the war was here to stay.
No one could stop it anymore.
There would always be more soldiers.
After all, that’s what he was, just a soldier.
He stopped at a pay phone and made two calls.
The first, to another soldier.
The second, to his mentor, the person who had thought of everything, including how to use him.
Charles Danko had made his decision: tomorrow was a go for terror.
Nothing had changed.
Chapter 100
THE NEXT DAY, the G-8 meetings were scheduled to begin as originally planned. The hard-liners, the tough guys in Washington, wanted it that way. So be it.