‘A fishing line?’ Garcia queried.
‘Don’t ask,’ Kennedy said. ‘What I was told was that the nylon string was somehow attached to the back of a drawer at one end and to the shotgun at the other. When the drawer was pulled open, the shotgun, which was hidden behind some boxes, fired, blowing the guard’s head off.’
‘Jesus!’ Garcia exclaimed.
‘Still,’ Hunter took over again, ‘none of this really matters now, Adrian. Nothing can be done about it. All we can do is allow the Justice Department and the US Marshals Office to do their job. Like I’ve said, it’s their responsibility now.’
‘You’re right,’ Kennedy replied. ‘Lucien is now the responsibility of the Justice Department and the US Marshals Office, but they’re not going after him by themselves.’
Hunter stayed quiet.
‘I’ll talk to the US Attorney General myself. Nathan and I go back a long way. This manhunt will be a joint effort between the Justice Department and the FBI, but I’ll also set up a parallel special task force.’ His right index finger pointed to Hunter. ‘And you will be heading it, Robert.’
‘Woah!’ Both of Hunter’s hands shot up in a ‘back-up’ gesture. ‘Wait a second there. What do you mean – I’ll be heading a special task force? I’m not an FBI agent, Adrian. I’m an LAPD detective. And despite the fact that we’re talking about Lucien Folter here, he’s not my responsibility. Not anymore.’
Garcia frowned at his partner.
‘Like I’ve said,’ Hunter continued. ‘He’s a fugitive and the task of bringing him in falls to the US Marshals Office. If you want to run a joint operation with the Justice Department, that’s between you and them. If you want to run a parallel special task force, that’s your prerogative, but none of that involves the LAPD.’
‘Are you telling me that you don’t care if Lucien is behind bars or not?’ Kennedy countered.
‘That’s not what I’ve said,’ Hunter came back. ‘If it was up to me, I would’ve locked him down in a dungeon and thrown away the keys.’
The frown in Garcia’s face turned to wide-eyed surprise.
‘And that was where he was supposed to be,’ Hunter continued. ‘But you decided to place him in a high-security facility closer to Quantico just so you could study him further, right? Pick at his brain? You couldn’t just let it go, could you, Adrian? What we’ve found . . . all his notebooks, his research . . . they weren’t enough for the NCAVC, the BAU, or for you.’
‘Study him?’ Garcia had to jump in. ‘Notebooks? Research? Who the hell is this guy, Jack the Ripper?’
‘Jack the Ripper is a well-behaved kindergarten kid when put next to Lucien Folter,’ Kennedy replied before turning to face Hunter once again. ‘Yes, I wanted to study him further, Robert. You of all people should understand the reasons why. His knowledge of how a serial killer’s mind works is unprecedented and unparalleled, but all that is now beside the point. Like you’ve said: he’s out and right now the only thing that matters is bringing him in.’
‘Agreed,’ Hunter said. ‘And again – that responsibility belongs with the Justice Department and the US Marshals Office, not the LAPD. I’m not part of this.’
‘Unfortunately,’ Kennedy said, ‘yes, you are, old friend.’
‘Says who?’ Hunter countered.
Kennedy looked troubled by what he was about to say.
‘Says Lucien himself.’
Hunter paused and studied Kennedy’s facial expression. He looked like a card player who’d been holding on to a top trump card for the entire game, waiting for the optimal time to play it.
‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’ Hunter asked. ‘What haven’t you told me yet, Adrian?’
Kennedy straightened up. ‘They found a note inside Lucien’s cell, Robert,’ he replied. ‘It was addressed to you.’
Six
Lucien had never been to the city of Knoxville before, and as he drove around its streets looking for a parking garage, he couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer beauty of the place. On the banks of the Tennessee River and nestled in a breathtaking valley just west of the Great Smoky Mountains, the city had indeed a sort of irresistible and disarming charm to it, where nineteenth-century buildings sat effortlessly among modern-architecture ones and history seemed to ooze out of every street corner. Ten minutes driving around the city center was all Lucien needed to convince himself that he would have to come back to Knoxville and explore it a little better as soon as he could afford the time.
Lucien drove past three valet-parking garages before he came across a self-parking one on the corner of State Street.
‘Here we go,’ he said out loud as he veered the Audi A6 into the building’s entrance. After grabbing a ticket from the machine by the barrier, Lucien drove around the floors slowly, his eyes scanning not only for a parking spot, but also for CCTV cameras.
The first floor had no spaces left. On the second floor, Lucien came across a couple of spots, but they were in a direct line with a security camera. It was at the very end of the third floor that Lucien found the perfect spot – by the wall and no CCTV cameras in sight. He quickly reversed into it.
‘OK, let’s see what else you’ve got for me, Mrs. Campbell,’ he said to himself as he switched off the engine and reached for Alicia Campbell’s handbag that was resting on the passenger’s seat. The first thing he found was a Bottega Veneta leather wallet.
‘Wow, very fancy,’ he said with a chuckle as he unzipped the wallet open. ‘And we have . . . one hundred and twenty-seven dollars in cash. Not bad at all.’ He put the money in his pocket before going back to the wallet. ‘Five credit cards, a driver’s license, a few coins, a bunch of calling cards: “Alicia Campbell”,’ he read from one of the cards. ‘ “Independent mortgage adviser”. Huh, that I would’ve never guessed.’ The last pocket inside the wallet contained a photograph. Lucien studied it for a second. ‘Oh, is this the guy who broke your heart?’ he asked as if Alicia was sitting right next to him. ‘Maybe I’ll pay him a visit sometime soon and teach him a lesson, how about that?’
Lucien took out Alicia’s driver’s license and randomly chose one of the credit cards before placing them in his pocket. That done, he put the wallet to one side and returned to the hand-bag. Ruffling through the rest of its contents, he found a small makeup bag, which he also kept – makeup could always come in handy – a keychain, containing house keys or something similar, two pens, a bunch of useless receipts and two boxes of prescription drugs. He checked their labels – Xanax XR (3mg tablets) and Valium (10mg tablets).
Lucien’s eyes widened in surprise. He was very familiar with both drugs. Xanax was the best-selling alprazolam in the country. Alprazolam was a benzodiazepine that affected chemicals in the brain that might’ve been unbalanced in people who suffered from anxiety. It was used in the treatment of anxiety, panic disorders and chronic depression. Valium was the best-selling diazepam in the country, which also belonged to the benzodiazepine group. Though it was also used in the treatment of anxiety, Valium was an anticonvulsant, which meant that it was widely used in the treatment of alcohol withdrawal symptoms, muscle spasms and in the prevention of seizures. Both drugs had also gained cult status all over the world as recreational drugs. To put it simply – since benzodiazepines affected chemicals in the brain, half a tablet of either Xanax or Valium would get most people high. A full tablet would put most people to sleep. Lucien could benefit from both effects. He smiled at his good fortune.