Nemesis by Catherine Coulter Read Free Book Online Page A

difficult unless everyone knew you, so I’m thinking one of the drivers or an employee.”
    Savich said, “So no report of any strangers around within the past week?”
    “No. In fact . . .”
    Savich smiled into his cell. “Spit it out, Griffin.”
    “It seems to me the killer has to be connected to the post office or to the trucking company. No one else would know their operations well enough, know the schedule and all that. So I’m thinking Brakey Alcott, for whatever reason, has got to be connected, maybe even be the killer, otherwise the whole operation has too many unknowns. If Brakey doesn’t pan out, I’ll move on to the other employees at the distribution center and the post office, but I’ll tell you, Savich, it feels like he’s at center court.”
    Savich said, “But unlike Walter Givens, who killed Sparky Carroll in front of fifty witnesses, this murder was an attempt to hide the killer’s identity. When you find Brakey Alcott, Griffin, see if he, like Givens, has no idea that he even could have committed the murder. Keep it low-key, Griffin—you need his help, that sort of approach, very nonthreatening. If you think he’s another dupe like Givens, you need to keep him close, so take him back to the Hoover Building.
    “Keep in touch. Sherlock and I are going to interview George ‘Sparky’ Carroll’s wife. Then we’ll head back to Washington, see what Brakey Alcott has to say.”
    “We’d never be thinking about it like this except for the Athame murder weapon.”
    He was right, and Savich wondered who had such power to make two men kill and not remember doing it.

26 FEDERAL PLAZA
    NEW YORK CITY
    Thursday morning
    S pecial Agent in Charge Milo Zachery faced the roomful of agents from an alphabet soup of agencies—FBI, Homeland Security, JFK security, NYPD, NSA, ATF. There was relentless pressure from every level—his bosses, national leaders, the press—but the urgency each of them felt came from knowing there could be other attacks, and soon. The president had spoken to the nation two hours after the attacks yesterday, and the vice president, obviously still shaken, spoke eloquently of what it was like to be at ground zero.
    Zachery told them to ignore all that, to make their own part in the investigation their entire focus until it was over. “Our nation is at risk, and we’re all on edge, at our airports and public spaces, and even in our own churches—and it will go on until we get it cleared up.” Zachery remembered 9/11, the shock, the outrage, the misdirected anger at anyone who looked Middle Eastern. This time there had been no deaths; this time both attacks had failed spectacularly. “We won this round, so maybe that’s why the usual groups aren’t lining up to take credit, but the threat remains real, people. It’s up to us to close this down. I know you’re sleep deprived already, I’m on hyperdrive myself from all the coffee flowing through my veins.” He paused. “Maybe that’s as it should be.” Zachery introduced some of the key people around the table, and turned things over to Kelly.
    Special Agent Kelly Giusti stepped to the head of the long conference table, loaded with open laptops, tablets, notebooks, coffee cups, soda cans, and trays of Danishes, now mostly crumbs. At least she didn’t feel like roadkill after a long hot shower on the sixteenth floor, but she felt fatigue nibbling at her again. She took another sip of coffee so strong she could taste it on her teeth. She felt her brain snap to and looked quickly around the table at the twenty-plus agents watching her. Many of them looked to be in the same shape she was, but it didn’t matter, they were focused and ready, running on adrenaline and anger at what the terrorists had tried to do at JFK and St. Patrick’s Cathedral.
    She clicked on the big wall screen to show them a dozen different photos of Nasim Conklin. “Your packets have all the information we have so far on Nasim Conklin—his