“Meaning Tony might know where his grandfather is?” said Puller.
“It’s the reason we came to Trenton in the first place.”
Puller nodded. “Well, I can’t say I’m gaining much traction, either. I tried again, but the Trenton police have now completely closed me off from the investigation. I can’t see any reports. I can’t talk to the cop who shot Jerome Blake. They have closed ranks and left me on the outside.”
“You said the Bureau of Prisons guy, Moss, warned you off. Maybe he talked to the Trenton folks and told them to stonewall you.”
“I’m not surprised that Moss might have told the Trenton folks to stand down, particularly after he had that meeting with me. I’m just wondering why the Trenton folks are going along with it. It clearly stinks of a cover-up.”
“And how about your side?” asked Blum.
“Disappointing because there’s been very little support. And I don’t expect that to change. There’s a hush coming from the uniforms that I don’t understand. I expected someone to show some backbone, but it’s extraordinary how they all seemed to have fallen in line.” He paused, his gaze rooted on his knees. “It’s not the Army way to just stand aside meekly when an injustice is being done. Why the hell do we even wear the uniform or take an oath?”
“Preaching to the choir. But let’s talk about the shooting that killed Agent McElroy,” said Pine.
Puller looked up at her. “It clearly wasn’t a gang thing, as you’ve shown. I’m not even convinced Blake fired the shot. If not, who did? And was Ed even the target? Or was it you and/or me, as we discussed before?”
“Or was he the target but only as a warning to us to back off the case?” suggested Pine.
“All good points,” interjected Blum. “But if they were willing to kill a federal agent in cold blood? The reasons to do so must be quite something. And so would having such a broad conspiracy to cover everything up.”
Pine said, “Teddy Vincenzo told us his son had gotten in way over his head. So maybe we’re not just talking about a basic pill-mill operation. There could be more to it. A lot more to it. Could it be that the folks behind the drug ring have political connections high up?”
“I guess that’s possible because there’s definitely something weird going on,” agreed Puller.
“You said they wouldn’t let you talk to the cop who shot Blake?” said Pine.
“That’s right. I didn’t even get his name.”
“You said Tony had military personnel involved in the scheme?”
“Yes.”
“Have you arrested any of them?”
“Two. Bill Danforth and Phil Cassidy. They’re sitting in a holding cell right now at Fort Dix.”
“Not the prison part of Fort Dix?” said Pine.
“No. What happened to Teddy Vincenzo is not going to happen to them. They’re being held by the Army in a secure facility nowhere near the prison. MPs handpicked by me are guarding them.”
“I assume you’ve interrogated Danforth and Cassidy.”
“Until they both asked for military counsel,” said Puller. “Once they lawyered up, the interrogation stopped.”
“In that regard I guess military law isn’t that much different from civilian law,” noted Blum. “My son is an MP. Stationed in California.”
Puller nodded. “Not an easy job. And it’s good of him to serve his country. And yes there are similarities, but the Uniform Code of Military Justice can be an odd-looking bird to outsiders. Soldiers take an oath. Consequently, we hold them to a higher standard than laws do with civilians. Burdens of proof and punishments can be very different. Now, in this case charges have already been handed down. Danforth and Cassidy will both be up for general court-martials. No way this is being dealt with through an Article 15.” Puller glanced at Pine and Blum. “Sorry, I tend to automatically fall into military jargon. Article 15 allows the soldier’s commanding officer, or CO, to punish personnel for minor offenses without need for a trial. It’s like a civil action, although it lands in their record and can impede their careers, promotions, and the like. But drug dealing is not a minor offense. And we have all the evidence we need to get convictions. They’re looking at long prison sentences.”
“Then they may want to cut a deal,” said Pine.
“I’ll cut deals so long as I get the big players behind this. If I’m allowed to do so,” he added.
“Did you ever talk to Danforth and Cassidy about the possibility of a deal?” asked Blum.
“Not yet. My plan was to get that authority and go after them hard to give us names further up the line. Right now, everything’s in limbo since they lawyered up.”
“Can we speak to the prisoners if their counsel is present, or is the military different on that, too?” asked Pine.
“No, we can. I’ll make a call and try to set it up. But don’t get your hopes up. Everything about this case is screwed up.”
“I would suppose they have every incentive to make a deal to lessen their punishment,” said Blum.
Puller glanced at Pine before saying, “But they also have one very important reason to keep quiet.”
“Namely, what happened to Teddy Vincenzo might happen to them,” said Pine.
Her phone buzzed. It was her contact at the Trenton FBI office, Rick Davies.
She answered it, and Davies said, “I’m sending you a photo that I got from a cop bud of mine who knows someone assigned to the case. It’s the gun that was used to kill the CID agent.”
“Okay.”
“And I’ve learned that there were six surveillance cameras in the area in question. I believe the cops have grabbed all of them, but I couldn’t verify that. I’m sending you the locations of each one in case you want to check them out.”
“That’s great, Rick, thanks.”
She clicked off, explained to Puller what was going on, and waited for the email to pop into her queue. When it did she opened it and looked at the photo of the gun.
She caught a breath and glanced up at Puller.
“What?” he said.
“That’s not the gun Jerome Blake was holding.”
Chapter 21
THE POLICE PRESENCE HAD GONE, the only remnants being yellow police crime scene tape flapping in the wind. With the rain and wind there were few pedestrians brave enough to be outside.
Their umbrellas braced against the brisk breeze, Puller, Blum, and Pine looked around the area where the shooting had taken place. In the daytime it seemed far different to Pine, larger and more complex. That night it had seemed like a long, narrow tunnel with very little life present. She eyed the alleyway.
“Puller, where’d you learn to jump across buildings like that?” she asked, while Blum hiked an eyebrow at this odd remark.
“Ranger School,” he said off-handedly before adding, “You’re sure it wasn’t the right gun?”
She glared at him. “Blake was holding a Glock 26 subcompact. The gun in the picture is a full-sized Glock 26 with a black stainless steel slide.”
“I didn’t get a good look at it, like you did. And it was dark in that alley,” cautioned Puller. “And the gun frames look alike.”