Lock In

Chapter Twenty-three

 

SAMUEL SCHWARTZ WAS not in the least pleased to see us on a Saturday morning but invited us in nevertheless. He sat us in his home office, in front of a desk festooned with pictures of two small children. “Yours?” Vann asked.

 

“Yes,” Schwartz said, sitting down behind his desk.

 

“Adorable,” Vann said.

 

“Thank you,” Schwartz said. “And to forestall the next set of questions, Anna and Kendra, ages seven and five, by way of seminal extraction and in vitro fertilization, the mothers are a married couple of my acquaintance, one of whom was a law school classmate, yes, the children know who I am and yes, I am an active part of their life. In fact I need to be at a soccer game almost immediately. I assume you’re here about Nicholas Bell.”

 

“Actually, we’re here about Jay Kearney,” Vann said.

 

“I’ve already talked to your fellow FBI agents about Jay,” Schwartz said. “I’ll tell you what I told them, which is that at no point in our professional or personal relationship did Jay ever reveal or even hint at his plans or his association with Dr. Baer. And as for my whereabouts that evening”—Schwartz nodded toward me—“your associate here can confirm my presence at Marcus Shane’s home that evening. We were at the dinner table when the Loudoun Pharma bombing happened.”

 

“Our labs tell us Kearney—or Baer—created a car bomb made out of ammonium nitrate,” Vann said.

 

“All right,” Schwartz said. “And?”

 

“It’s probably nothing but I’ll note that Agrariot is an Accelerant company. They make dehydrated and frozen food, cattle feed, and fertilizer.”

 

“Accelerant is a multinational conglomerate that wholly owns or has significant investment in nearly two hundred different companies, Agent Vann,” Schwartz said. “You are correct that it’s probably nothing.”

 

“Agrariot does have a warehouse in Warrenton,” Vann observed. “Right down Route 15 from Leesburg. And it’s missing several pallets of fertilizer from its inventory. I checked yesterday.”

 

“Then I hope you informed those associates of yours more directly involved in the investigation,” Schwartz said.

 

“We have,” Vann said.

 

“I understand Accelerant made an offer on Loudoun Pharma,” I said.

 

Schwartz turned to me. “This is the first I heard of it,” he said. “You might not give credence to rumors.”

 

“I don’t know that it’s a rumor if it comes directly from the CEO,” I said. “I spoke with Mr. Buchold yesterday afternoon.”

 

“Mr. Buchold was indiscreet,” Schwartz said. “There have been discussions, but nothing serious.”

 

“I also recall at dinner Lucas Hubbard being pretty negative about what Loudoun Pharma was doing,” I said. “Interesting that he would be considering buying the company now, especially after it’s been turned into a crater.”

 

“Lucas is interested in keeping jobs in Loudoun County,” Schwartz said. “Loudoun Pharma has products that fit into our portfolio.”

 

“Sure,” Vann said. “And one that you’d probably like to keep off the market.”

 

“Neuroulease,” I said, helpfully.

 

“That’s it,” Vann said. “Don’t want a bunch of Hadens unlocked. That’d cut into the profit margins of a whole bunch of Accelerant’s companies. And you need them cranking out revenue for the next several years at least.”

 

“I’m afraid I don’t know much about Neuroulease,” Schwartz said, rising. “Now, as I said, I have a soccer game—”

 

“Do you know much about Salvatore Odell, Michael Crow, Gregory Bufford, James Martinez, Steve Gaitten, or Cesar Burke?” Vann asked.

 

“I don’t know these men,” Schwartz said.

 

“They’re the janitors killed when Loudoun Pharma went up,” Vann said. “They only just managed to get them dug out the other day. They’re doing the memorial ceremony for them today.”

 

“Right now, just about,” I said.

 

“That so,” Vann said, to me, and then turned back to Schwartz. “Our med people tell me that a couple of them died when the building blew up, but the rest survived the explosion. They died from being buried under four stories of concrete. Pressed them flat. Crushed.”

 

“Memorial is closed casket,” I said.

 

“It would be,” Vann said.

 

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Schwartz said.

 

“Are you,” Vann said.

 

“I think that’s all the time I have,” Schwartz said.

 

“How close are you to Lucas Hubbard?” I asked.

 

“What do you mean?” Schwartz said.

 

“I mean, I’m remembering at dinner the other night when Lucas asked you a question and you blanked out on the answer,” I said. “Hubbard reached over to reassure you after you blanked and patted your hand. I’m not a slavish follower of gender roles, but that seemed pretty ‘not guy’ to me. You don’t strike me as the sort to need reassurance, and Hubbard doesn’t strike me as the sort to offer it to you. You’re his corporation’s chief lawyer, not his girlfriend.”

 

“I think you’re reading too much into it,” Schwartz said.

 

“And there was the moment I was talking to you about your threep, and you looked at me like you had no idea what I was saying,” I said. “Hubbard answered for you then, too. I remember you reading us the riot act when we had Bell in the interrogation room. I don’t think it’s like you to let someone else speak for you.”

 

“Maybe it wasn’t him not speaking,” Vann said.

 

“Maybe not,” I said, looking at Schwartz.

 

“You and I did speak,” Schwartz said. “I remember very clearly in your father’s trophy room we spoke about the fact I was using a woman Integrator.”

 

“Brenda Rees,” I said.

 

“She’s dead now,” Vann said.

 

“Yes,” I said.

 

“Opened fire at a café and then blew herself up with a grenade.”

 

“I was there for it,” I said.

 

“So was I,” Vann said, and motioned to her arm, in its sling. “She shot me.”

 

“Me too,” I said.

 

“It’s strange,” Vann said.

 

“Being shot?” I asked.

 

“Yes,” Vann said, and pointed at Schwartz. “But I was more thinking about Mr. Schwartz here having two Integrators blow themselves up in the same week.”

 

“That is strange,” I said.

 

“I mean, what are the odds?” Vann asked me.

 

“Pretty slim, I’d say.”

 

“I’d say pretty slim too,” Vann said. “Maybe not as slim as these Integrators being eaten by bears or falling into a wheat thresher. But still, overall, pretty remarkable coincidence.”

 

“Agent Vann,” Schwartz said. “Agent Shane. We are d—”

 

“She says you weren’t there,” I said.

 

“What?” Schwartz said, distracted.

 

“Brenda Rees,” I said. “She told me that you weren’t there at dinner. She says you were gone.”

 

“Right at the time Jay Kearney was doing his thing,” Vann said.

 

“Jay Kearney was integrated with Dr. Baer,” Schwartz said. “Baer said so on that recording of his.”

 

“Well, no,” I said. “Kearney’s mouth said it, and we assume that Baer was speaking it because Baer was in the background. But we have an alternate theory.”

 

“It goes like this,” Vann said. “You integrate with Kearney and go to Baer’s apartment. He’s expecting Kearney. You drug Baer so he passes out, make the video, shove a knife into his temple, position the threep to make it look like suicide, and then take a quick trip to Loudoun Pharma with Kearney.”

 

“And are back with us in time for dessert,” I said. “If we had dessert. I wasn’t there for that part.”

 

“No, because Loudoun Pharma blew up,” Vann said.

 

“You just accused me of murdering Baer,” Schwartz said.

 

“Yes,” I said.

 

“And the six janitors,” Vann said.

 

“And Jay Kearney,” I said.

 

“Eight total,” Vann said.

 

“I’m done speaking to you two,” Schwartz said. “I’m not going to say any more to you without a lawyer. If you plan to arrest me, do it now. Otherwise, get out of my house.”

 

“Mr. Schwartz, one more word,” Vann said.

 

Schwartz looked at her, impassive as only a threep can be.

 

“‘Interpolator,’” Vann said.

 

“What did you say?” Schwartz said.

 

“Oh, I think you heard me just fine,” Vann said.

 

“I don’t know what the word means,” Schwartz said.

 

“We’re past that point, don’t you think, Mr. Schwartz?” Vann said. “You know perfectly well what that word means. And you know what it means that we know it. It means that you are fucked, sir. Magnificently so.”

 

Schwartz was silent again.

 

“Options,” Vann said, and ticked up a finger. “Door number one. You maintain your right to remain silent and your right to an attorney. Good for you. I applaud your stand. We arrest you for those eight murders we’ve mentioned plus the murders of Bruce Skow and Brenda Rees. We’ll also be charging you with the kidnapping of Kearney and Skow and Rees. Not to mention the attempted murders of me and Agent Shane, here. Plus a whole other grab bag of miscellaneous charges which I won’t go into but I imagine that you are already running down a list of in your brain, because you are a lawyer. We go to trial, you lose, your body goes into a federal Haden detention center, and you get to speak to other human beings one hour a week, forever.”

 

“We’re fine with that option, by the way,” I said.

 

“Yes we are,” Vann said. She ticked up another finger. “Door number two. You talk.”

 

She put her hand down. “Make your choice. You have five seconds, after which we assume you’re going with door number one.”

 

“Which we’re fine with,” I said again.

 

“Yes we are,” Vann said.

 

Schwartz sat down and waited until the count of four, maybe four and a half. “I want a deal,” he said.

 

“Of course you do,” Vann said.

 

“Full immunity,” he began.

 

“No,” I interrupted. “You don’t get that.”

 

“You’re going to prison, Schwartz,” Vann said. “You better get used to that. What we’re discussing now is where, how long, and how bad it will be.”

 

“Full immunity or nothing,” Schwartz said.

 

“‘Nothing’ works for us,” I said.

 

“Mr. Schwartz, I don’t think you fully appreciate what I meant when I said you are magnificently fucked,” Vann said. “It means that we have more than enough to bury you. Forever. And we will. Forever. But the fact of the matter is, you’re not the person we really want. You’re not the main attraction. I’m pretty sure you know who we’re talking about, here.”

 

“But if we can’t get him, we’ll be happy to take you,” I said.

 

“It’s true,” Vann said. “And let’s be honest, Schwartz. He’ll be happy to let us take you, too. You of all people should know how many lawyers he has and how good they are. The very second he learns we bagged you is the second all of it—all of it—gets shoved onto you. I can see the press release now.”

 

“He’ll be shocked and disturbed at the allegations and will pledge to cooperate fully with the authorities, which means us,” I said.

 

“And you know what,” Vann said. “At that point we might just decide to cut our losses and go with what we have. We’ll still look good, and honestly it’ll be a nice object lesson for you on the subject of blind loyalty to a man who’ll be happy to throw you to the dogs.”

 

Schwartz was silent again. Then, “What are you looking for from me?”

 

“All of it, of course,” Vann said. “Dates. Plans. How you used Accelerant’s various companies to further your goals. Who else is involved. What the end game was. What both you and Hubbard were planning to get out of it all.”

 

“Why you chose Sani and Skow,” I said.

 

“That’s right,” Vann said. “You have the upper echelons of the Navajo Nation ready to run you down with a car. You picked the wrong guy to mess with when you picked Sani. It’s probably just as well we’ll be putting you away for a while.”

 

“How long?” Schwartz asked. He was entirely defeated now. “How much time are we talking about here?”

 

“Are you asking for a specific number of years?” I asked.

 

Schwartz turned to me. “I have children, Agent Shane,” he said.

 

“You’re missing that soccer game, Mr. Schwartz,” Vann said, surprisingly gently. “You’ll be missing high school graduation too. Depending on what we get from you now, we can work on having you out to walk one of them down the aisle.”

 

 

 

 

 

John Scalzi's books