An Absence of Light

Neuman was still listening with his head down, and Graver was beginning to wonder if he was doing too good a job with this, maybe even talking him out of it. It didn’t matter. He didn’t want to get Neuman into something he hadn’t thought through to the end. Which he probably had. Still, Graver wanted to know that he had.

“The thing is,” Graver emphasized, “you’ve got to imagine having to defend yourself in front of a court, in the newspapers, on television. Just make the assumption now that someday it’ll hit the media and your actions will be questioned… in public. You’ve got to think about that, and-if you decide to stay on-you’ve got to think about it tomorrow and the next day and every day until this is over. I’m telling you right now, if you can’t live with yourself after you’ve done something I’ve asked you to do, then you’d better have the guts to tell me no.”

Graver had been leaning on his desk, talking straight across it to Neuman, turning the cobblestone around and around on a stack of papers. Now he picked up the stone and tapped the wood of the desk with it Neuman looked up.

“I don’t own your soul, Casey,” Graver said with a softly measured emphasis. “I’m not going to have to grow old with what you do, and I’m not going to have to answer to your conscience. I’ve got my own to deal with.”

Neuman stared back at him, and Graver did not see any signs of trepidation, no uncertainty, no fear of the inexperienced. He didn’t know if that was comforting or not.

“I understand the rules,” Neuman said. “And I also understand that you think I can do this, or you would’ve cut me out and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“That’s right.”

“Then I’m ready to work.”

Graver looked at him and put down the cobblestone. Jesus. “Okay.” He picked up the telephone and punched in a number. “Paula,” he said, “bring in the files.”

As Graver had driven back from Arnette Kepner’s he had wrestled with the logistics of what he was about to do. He wanted to keep the investigation as small and tight as possible. Since Burtell would be out of the office now for two weeks, it would be relatively easy for Graver to communicate with Neuman and Paula about their progress. He would tell the other analysts with whom Neuman was working on other investigations that he was pulling him for a couple of weeks. The routine compartmentalization of an Intelligence Division at least eased some of the covert maneuvering that would be necessary to do this. Intelligence officers at all levels were used to not being given explanations. It was part of the business and worked to their advantage more often than not It was this claim to silence, justified by the necessity to maintain security, that so often rankled intelligence outsiders and struck them an unnecessary arrogance.

Graver had already talked with Matt Rostov about using Paula, and even though Graver would be handing in his report on Tisler the next morning, everyone would assume there would be loose ends to deal with. And Ray Besom was still out of town. These arrangements would allow Neuman and Paula to work in isolation from the others and enable him to see them regularly during the course of the day without raising any particular notice.

The first thing he would do would be to complete the report for Westrate. If there were others within CID involved along with Burtell and Besom and Tisler, they would be able to pass along the fact that the case indeed had been closed out.

Now, as they each sipped fresh cups of coffee that Neuman had stepped across the hall to make before they got started, he explained how he was going to handle Burtell.

“I’ve got someone from the outside for surveillance,” he said bluntly. Both Paula and Neuman registered shock. “There was no way I could use anyone in law enforcement in this city. Burtell’s been around too long, knows too many people. Besides, if I’m going to keep this unofficial… I couldn’t risk a leak.”

“These people,” Paula said, “they’re another agency?”

“No.”

“A private investigator?”

“No,” Graver said firmly. He wasn’t going to explain, and he didn’t want any questions about it He went on immediately. “As soon as we have something from them, from surveillance, we’ll follow up as quickly as possible. In the meantime, we’ve got plenty to do.”

He opened a folder in which he had been filing away notes since Sunday night after Westrate’s visit.

“First,” he said, “we’ve got to determine the status of the sources listed in Tisler’s contributor files for the Probst and Friel investigations. Did Tisler and/or Dean simply steal the names of real people, or do these people actually know Probst and Friel? Paula, you’ve already found out that most of these people can’t be located. Bruce Sheck, we don’t know. Colleen Synar, maybe. Let’s get to the bottom of what’s going on here. But be goddamned careful. We’re working against our own people here. They know all the tricks; they can read all the signs. And they’re expecting us.”