Capital Crimes by Stuart Woods

he would be kind enough to notify White House security. I have an appointment that I’ll have to drive to immediately following the briefing.” This was a lie, but Kinney had no intention of being trapped in a car with the director for half the morning.
    “I’ll let the director know and notify White House security.”
    “Thank you.”
     
    KINNEY HAD BEEN to the White House before for meetings with presidential aides, but never with the president him-self. He was passed through the main gate after showing his ID and being carefully compared to his photograph by the guard, then his car was parked for him, and an escort took him to a small waiting room. The director arrived presently, and the room filled up with the meeting’s other participants.
    After the others were called inside, Kinney waited until summoned. The director introduced him to the president, then, one by one, to the others.
    “I understand we have another killing, Bob,” the president said.
    “I believe we do, Mr. President.” He told the group about the circumstances of Brennan’s death and the autopsy results.
    “Now those results are preliminary, aren’t they, Bob?” the director asked.
    “Yes, sir, but I expect the final report to be the same.”
    “What do you make of this?” the president asked. “Are we dealing with a foreign intelligence agency?”
    “I don’t believe so, Mr. President.”
    “Then who?”
    “I believe we’re dealing with an individual who has knowledge of all sorts of technical skills—firearms, explosives, black chemistry. I’ve ordered that all the Bureau’s retired or dismissed employees with such knowledge be investigated, and I want to extend that investigation to the retired employees of other agencies, too.”
    “Why retired employees, not current ones?”
    “Because our killer seems to have the time to travel up and down the Eastern seaboard, murdering people. Apparently he’s driving, and a current employee wouldn’t be able to do that, unless he were on vacation, and that would call unwanted attention to him.”
    “What agencies are you talking about?” the president asked.
    “FBI, CIA, ATF, DEA. Any with a tech services department.”
    Kate Rule Lee spoke up. “I’ll have a list of such employees at the CIA printed out and messengered to you today, Bob.”
    “Thank you, ma’am.”
    The president sighed. “Bob, I’m afraid it’s time to go public with your suspicions.”
    “Must I, Mr. President?”
    “The press is already putting it together. Let’s not wait until we’re cornered. Anyway, going public might turn up some leads for you. We might get a phone call from a friend or relative with suspicions.”
    “I’ll issue a press release this morning, Mr. President.”
    “Do that, but read it at a press conference. You dictate something to my secretary, and you can address the White House press corps at this morning’s regular briefing.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Thanks, everybody, that’s all.” The president stood up, and everyone filed out of the room.
     
    BOB KINNEY STOOD in the little auditorium and read his press release. “The FBI is investigating the murders of Senator Frederick Wallace, Mr. Van Vandervelt, and Mr. Timothy Brennan, which we believe were committed by the same person.”
    There was a roar of questions from the reporters, which were shouted down by the White House press secretary.
    Kinney continued. “We are concentrating our investigation, at the moment, on former government employees who may have acquired skills in the line of duty that are now being used to kill people.”
    “Questions?” the press secretary asked, and pointed at a reporter.
    “Why do you think the murders are connected?”
    “Because of the political connections among the victims and for other reasons I cannot go into.”
    The questions continued to come, and Kinney answered them as frankly as he could. Finally, the press secretary ended the questioning, and Kinney was escorted to