Chapter 10–Monday, 1:25PM

Herb snapped open his cell phone as he skipped down the back steps of the courthouse. He speed-dialed Linda’s desk. He would’ve used the radio in the car, but he didn’t want anyone listening in.

“Hello,” came Linda’s voice in the chief’s ear as he waved goodbye to Monte and slipped out the back door.

“Linda!”

“Chief? Is that you?” Without a pause, Linda continued. “You were brilliant Chief. Way to put Redman in his place.”


“Yes, yes. Thank you, Linda, but I didn’t call to discuss the press conference.” Herb slipped into his car and started the engine. Pulling away from the curb, he continued, “I want to know if you were able to get the enhanced picture from any of the news agencies.”

“Well, technically speaking, I’d have to answer in the negative. My source does not wish to be identified as a news agency...agent. But, yes, I have the shot you want. It came in an encrypted email just minutes ago.”

“Great! Get it to Truman and tell him to keep it quiet. No help from anyone else. Not a word to a single soul without my permission.”

“Yes, sir,” Linda said, a hint of bewilderment in her voice. “Anything else?”

“No. That’s all for now,” Herb answered. “Thanks for your help, Linda. You’re a better cop than the mayor imagines.”

“I’m better than you imagine, sir.”

Herb didn’t comment. He hadn’t heard Linda’s response. He’d already hung up and begun dialing a second number.

“Hello,” came the voice at the other end.

“Monica, this is Herb.” The silence on the other end was deafening. “I wanted to apologize for the mayor’s actions. I’m sure you heard his comments.”

“I heard them,” Stewinsky spoke flatly. “I heard yours, too. You could’ve accused him of lying about my team. You could’ve said the picture was your own. You jeopardized our work as much as he did. How are we supposed to work together when you let your anger and your pride dictate what you say and do? I need a level-headed partner who won’t make vengeance a higher priority than protection of secret...”

“Enough!” Herb interrupted. “I didn’t call to be lectured on the finer points of police procedure. I need a tech officer. That’s why I’m calling. Our tech guy has been working on a digitally altered voice message left on my office answering machine this morning and on,” Herb swallowed his pride, “reconstructing our phone log so we can trace the call’s point of origin. Someone erased the data. Truman, that’s the guy’s name, said he couldn’t fix the voice or recover the data with his algo-something-or-others, but he believes your team might have the right equipment or software to do it.”

“Algorithms,” Monica offered.

“Whatever,” Herb snapped, “do you have a guy who can help?”


“Yes. His name is Capote.”

“Good,” Herb responded. “Send him to my station right away. I’ll meet him at the back door and take him to the lab.”

“Why the back door?” Stewinsky asked.

“I don’t know. I just want to keep things quiet. I’m not sure who I can trust right now. Oh,” Herb added, “Tell him we have the altered news photo too. One of my officers received it via encrypted email while the rest of the world was watching my performance on the tube.”

A pause on the other end. “Maybe you’re not as bad as the mayor said. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Probably an hour. Maybe a bit more.” Stewinsky hung up.