The Immortality Plot

The Immortality Plot - chapter 36

Charles Drake, the newly appointed lead investigator into the murders of Craig Martin and Claude Rattin, sat across from the man whom he had believed was his prime suspect.

The FBI’s Don Levinson and Raymond Dorsey, the detective from California, who seemed to have a rapport with suspect, had so far interrogated Michael Xavier Delaney.

The room was small and grimy, with peeling paint in storm cloud grey.

Drake was wondering when he’d have to release Delaney. The ex-army officer had danced through examination and cross-examination. Despite some of the more unusual aspects of his behavior, Drake could not pin the man down. He just didn’t have a motive to kill Craig Martin. He had every motive to try and extract information from Claude Rattin. The question of Maria’s rape was the one fact that Delaney had kept to himself. And, he had agreed to a DNA swab.

Along the hall, in an equally desultory interview room, Drake himself had questioned the lawyer Grace Ryan, as had Helen Carmona and Helen Klein. Ryan’s credentials were impressive. They had homed in on the reasons why she had accompanied Delaney on his avowed mission to find the man who killed his wife and locate the whereabouts of Rachel Maclean.

Had she and Delaney been having an affair? Why would she tag along simply to be a witness?”

Grace Ryan handled it easily. All she did was tell the truth. There was no affair. Yes, she found Delaney attractive. Yes, she would have liked to have slept with him but he wasn’t interested. Yes, she would write this story. She might even write a book. Meanwhile, Delaney gazed steadily and comfortably at Charles Drake.

“I have this problem,” said Drake.

Delaney just nodded and said nothing.

“Wherever you go death and destruction seem to follow,” said Drake. “I can understand a man like you wanting to get revenge on the low-life who killed your wife. And, I’ve got to say, you have co-operated all the way down the line. You volunteered to take a DNA test. You told us about Herman Letski. You told us about Claude Rattin. And you located Rachel Maclean whom you claim was being confined in a clinic in order to forcibly remove her eggs as part of some illegal human cloning network.

“But, and here’s my problem, either you have a warped sense of timing which puts you on the murder spot every time, or you are one very clever son-of-a-bitch.”

Still Delaney said nothing.

“And this woman? This Chantelle Dubois? There are a couple of thousand Chantelle Dubois’ in the U.S. There are probably close to half-a-million in Canada. You say she turns up the same places you do. Do you expect us to believe a woman was responsible for hoisting a 200 pound man twenty feet in the air?”

Delaney said nothing.

Drake’s morning had been stressful. He had had a difficult meeting with the District Attorney and an even more difficult one with his immediate superior. His forensic team had come up with nothing to link Delaney to Martin and the suspect had admitted to knocking three shades of shit out of Claude Rattin.

Dorsey and Levinson were standing at the back of the room watching. Drake looked into Delaney’ blue eyes and saw an ocean opening up about to engulf him.

“This Renaissance Project business, do you really expect us to believe there is some high rollers cloning club out there?”

“Have you examined the contents of the helicopter?” Delaney asked him. “Letski was getting ready to leave. The house had been cleaned like it was fumigated until the killer got to him,” Delaney paused. “Or maybe you have and it’s thrown up some uncomfortable names. Maybe a few of the high rollers are a little too close to home.”

“I resent that insinuation,” Drake was starting to lose control of the interview. Dorsey and Levinson exchanged glances.

“The Renaissance Project is linked to the serial killer they are calling The Priest. I’ve been trying to find him. So far I’ve done a damn site better job than the combined efforts of four police departments, the FBI and every crime support agency at your disposal. Chantelle Dubois is probably a false name. She could be an accomplice or she could be The Priest. Somewhere you will find a link to The Priest and Herman Letski. Or if you don’t, I will.”

Levinson peeled himself away from the wall and dusted himself down.

“Will you take a polygraph test?” he asked Delaney.

“Of course,” said Delaney. “Let’s do it now. Then, gentlemen, I suggest you either charge me or release me.”

Drake stood up and looked at the others. He nodded.

Outside it was a crisp but blustery day. Delaney stood on the sidewalk waiting for Grace Ryan. Dorsey emerged first and walked over to him.

“What will you do now?” he asked.

“Go home to Monterey and figure out where my life is going,” Delaney answered.

“I think you touched a raw nerve in there,” said Dorsey. “Word is there’s going to be a major investigation into this, so-called, Renaissance Project.” Dorsey hunched his shoulders in the way Ol’ Blue Eyes would have done. All he needed was the Fedora.

“It’s not over till it’s over,” said Delaney. “At least we’ve saved one life.”

“There is that,” said Dorsey. “And if we crack this alleged human cloning ring that will be another result.”

The two men paused. Delaney could see Ryan inside walking towards the door.

“Look,” said Dorsey. “I kind of got the impression you’d like to have a private look at your DNA test results. For your own satisfaction that is.”

Delaney paid sudden attention. “I would, yes,” he told Dorsey.

The detective glanced around as though expecting to be overheard. “How about if I drop them over to you in Monterey? Off the record, so to speak?”

“I’d be grateful,” said Delaney. And he meant it.

Dorsey made a naval salute, turned and slouched back into the station just as Grace Ryan came out. She walked over to Delaney and stood with him. Neither of them spoke for a minute. Then Delaney said.

“I really appreciate everything you’ve done, Grace. I want you to know that.” She didn’t reply, just looked up at him. “So, what now?” he continued. “Back to Washington? Back to your Australian case?”

“I guess,” she said. “And you?”

“I’m going home,” he said.

“I may need to get in touch,” she said. “I’ve got an appointment with Miles Dunning. I’m going to be contrite, wear a girly dress and look feminine and I’m going to ask him to represent me. I’ve got an idea for a book.”

Delaney just smiled.

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