the man in the blue jacket was being led down the corridor to an interrogation room by corelli and a uniformed officer.
grundy and taft followed.
grundy tugged taft on his arm and pulled him aside. “you know, lieutenant, the more i think about it the more i think this probably isn’t the guy i talked to.”
“well, we have him here, we may as well question him,” taft answered, without looking at grundy.
“do you need me for anything more?’ grundy asked.
“yes, you id’d him to begin with, we would like you to be here. at least at the beginning.”
“oh, all right.”
“we might not need you for too long,” taft said.
“you mean if you question the guy all night.”
“we’ll see.”
corelli and the uniformed officer and the prisoner entered a room at the end of the hall.
“let’s catch up, “ taft told grundy.
*
corelli, taft, grundy, and the man in the blue jacket were seated companionably around a moderate sized conference table. the uniformed officer who had escorted the man to the room was standing guard outside the door.
grundy had never taken part in an interrogation before, and corelli only once or twice. taft was an old hand.
the man looked out the window of the interrogation room. the snow had almost stopped, just a few flakes drifted through the air. “this looks different,” he said.
“different from what? corelli asked him
“he means different from tv,” said taft. “on tv, the rooms never have windows, it makes them look scary.”
“that’s right,” the man said.
“we have nothing to hide,” taft told him. “and everybody likes a nice view. and not to get claustrophobia.”
“that’s good to know. but i still want a lawyer.”
“are you sure?” taft asked him. “maybe we can settle this without one.”
“i think in that case we could have settled it in the street, “ the man said. “by the way, don’t you want to know my name?”
‘we have your phone,” taft told him, and produced it and put it on the table. “it might be locked, but probably not for us. but if you want to tell us, you can.”
the man hesitated. “my name is rutherford b hayes,” he said.
“that’s a cool name,” corelli said. “do your friends call you ruthie?”
“no, they call me gabby.”
“gabby,” taft repeated. “is that because you talk a lot, have a lot of opinions about things?”
”it’s just a nickname. it doesn’t mean anything.”
“everything means something ,” taft said.
“i want a lawyer. that means something.”
“tell me, gabby,” taft said. “do you have a lawyer? i mean an actual lawyer to call your own, that would be on your contacts on this phone?’
“i want a lawyer. i want bill johnson.”
taft and corelli laughed. bill johnson was the best known lawyer in the city, and world famous.
“do you have bill johnson on retainer?” taft asked. “he is your lawyer?”
“well, no, but i still have a right to ask for him.”
“let me explain,” taft told him. “the rules are a little different with us, from the regular police like you see on tv. if you have a lawyer on retainer, you can summon him, otherwise - you can have a lawyer, but one that we give you. that’s the rule, 890-7f. you could look it up. now, do you still want a lawyer.”
‘yes, i do.”
“all right then.” taft took out his own phone and began sending a message on it.
“you guys are so friendly,” the man said. “can i have some coffee?’
“why?” corelli asked him. “you plan on staying up all night?”
“i drink coffee at all hours. and i would like a bagel, too, or a danish. and can i take my jacket off?”
“you don’t want much,” corelli said. “you can have all those things,”
“and a lawyer”
“i’m working on it,” taft assured him.
little did taft, or corelli, or grundy, know that they were embarking on what would become an international incident that would change the course of human history.
13. pablo
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