Chapter 11 CHAPTER ELEVEN
The call by Sarah Morrison arrived fifty minutes later than the first one.
Theo was seated at David's kitchen table, surrounded by labeled folders with every photograph, every audio recording, and every scan of papers. All of this sat in front of him, with his hands wrapped around a cold mug of coffee. He was obsessively organizing since his arrival as he used to do with evidence during the days of his journalism, chaos felt manageable when he was organizing.
His phone lit up. He answered when the second ring came in.
“Mr. Callahan,” Sarah said, “before we proceed, I want a team to verify your evidence, and I want you to cooperate with the investigators by going over the chain of custody with them for all of the things that you collected.”
"When?" Theo sat up straight, and asked,
“There's a field office, this afternoon, at Two o'clock, on Meridian. I'll send you the address," Sarah said.
Theo replied, "I'll be there.”
"One more thing." Her voice became slightly lower. “We're going to have to move quickly because if the Whitmores find out investigators are coming to confirm your claims, there's a possibility that some of that evidence in that mansion could be destroyed or moved before we can secure it.”
Theo's jaw tightened. "How fast are we talking?"
"Fast enough that you should not plan anything for the next few days," Sarah answered, and ended the call.
Theo placed the phone on the table and stood in front of his computer screen. Forty-three photographs. One audio recording, forty-seven minutes. Photographs of the NDA, page by page. All data backed up in three cloud accounts and in David's external hard drive.
He had been living three years in the house invisible. Every meal made, forgotten, every room swept and dismissed, every conversation heard and quietly filed away. He had brought it with him in his sailing bag as ballast and now it was in folders on a laptop screen, awaiting the formation of a criminal prosecution.
He scanned the pictures one after another. Graham's handwritten confession. This is an excerpt of notes made by Victor about Michael Callahan. Fire Investigation Reports. His fingers were firm, but his jaw was clenched tightly.
David stood against the doorway, observing him. “You’ve gone through those four times since you are here.”
Theo replied without lifting his gaze, "I know.”
"You don't need to memorize them. They were already saved," said David.
Theo said, "I know that, too.”
David pushed off the doorframe and sat across from him. “What is it that you're hoping to find?”
Theo appeared to be silent for a while. His thumb swiped the track pad and landed on the image of the file, titled Michael Callahan. He stared at it. I go through this whole cycle of thinking that maybe I'm missing something. There is something I am missing and I think that the defense will find it first.
"That's Sarah's job now," David said firmly.
“It was my uncle," Theo said flatly and with control, the kind of thing that is costly to hold on to.
David didn't say anything on that. He saw that there was nothing useful to say and David was wise enough to know it.
The phones continued to buzz within the Whitmore mansion.
Victor was at his study window with his reflection in the window while Garfield was at the second chair sharing information with him. The morning had gone smoothly, the calls had been made, assurances had been offered, names had been called. Judge Hartley. Commissioner Reeves. Senator Pollock's chief of staff. Men who had dined in this house, who had been quietly solicited for money in campaigns, whose troubles had quietly vanished when the Whitmore name was put in the right direction.
Garfield wrote on a notepad, and reported that "Hartley says he can slow any warrant applications at the district level. But Reeves is not so sure, he says the federal involvement would be beyond his reach.”
“There is a chance for federal involvement, but we are dealing with it," said Victor, who was still facing the window. His voice was steady and calm. He had his right hand in a fist behind his back, but did not loosen it.
"And Brennan?" Garfield asked carefully.
Victor turned then. His gray eyes shifted towards Garfield, giving the lawyer a slightly more upright posture. “There's been no change in that for forty years. Thomas Brennan was silent because he has as much to lose as we do.”
"He's in Nevada. If the investigators find him before we…" Garfield said.
Victor cut him off, "where exactly?” Victor said. “Find out his current condition, age and circumstance change calculations. I must know what his calculation looks like today.”
Garfield nodded and picked up his phone.
Victor looked around and returned to the window. The lawn was immaculate, the hedgerows were cut and the gravel path was raked smooth. It has been carefully built in all its maintained surfaces over the years. He had created something that he was supposed to have made for good. There wasn't a thing left out for him to catch onto because he had ensured there was nothing left exposed to grab hold of.
He was blindsided by Theo Callahan. He had seen a man cleaning his floors and saw a man that was defeated. He hadn't spotted the reporter below. No other mistake was to be made.
Victor picked his mobile phone and called a number that was not one of his official numbers. It rang three times before connecting.
Victor said quietly, "I need containment. Whatever it costs."
The voice on the other end asked one question.
Victor's jaw clenched barely noticeable. "Everything," he said. "Contain everything."
He hung up and put the phone in his breast pocket. The reflection in the window gazed back at his silver haired and pristine, every surface composed.
However, his hand behind his back had not opened.
He felt that it was still possible to take control of the situation He had controlled worse. He had buried worse, both literally and figuratively, and came out intact.
Two miles away, another office in an adjoining field on Meridian Street, Sarah Morrison was preparing the text for an emergency warrant.
And the window he believed he had was already closing.
