Page 180 of The Fourth Option
“We learned in the course of our investigation that you met Leigh Ann Staub shortly before her death.”
“I did, briefly, yes.”
“Why?”
“My campaign advisor thought it would be good for me to visit the ER, to show that I’m concerned about crimes in this city ‘all the way through the line,’ as he put it. The ER was a mess that day. The nurse in charge, who I now know as Leigh Ann Staub, met with me along with a group of nurses.”
“Were you alone with her?”
“No. But something odd happened as I was leaving. I thought you were aware of it.”
“Enlighten me.”
“She passed me a note.”
“A note?”
“I thought it odd, but you get used to these things as a public figure.”
Stanton spoke carefully. “What did it say?”
“It said she had proof that the NOPD was complicit in her son’s murder, that he was an amateur reporter hoping to break a big story before going to Columbia Journalism School and had compiled hard copy notes linking law enforcement to a drug cartel. Specifically, it said that dirty cops had murdered her son.”
Stanton exhaled slowly. Alma’s voice rose in his head. He pushed it aside. Playing the game didn’t trump justice.
“Ms. Isaacson,” Stanton said slowly, “it feels like you’ve been hiding this information.”
“It was very sensitive, Agent Stanton. I am sure you can appreciate that. If true, it could undermine all credibility in the NOPD.”
And undermine your campaign, Stanton thought.
“It could also have been the rantings of a madwoman,” she said.
“Why didn’t you inform the FBI?”
A genuine look of confusion crossed her face.
“That’s exactly what I did. Given its sensitive nature, I immediately informed your SAC, Augie Lloyd. I gave him the note and told him all about this.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
Jean Lafitte Nature Preserve, Louisiana
THE CABIN LOOKEDlike a bomb factory.
Walker had made his decision. He had put the debate on justice to rest in his head. He had come to terms with the fact that he had become the monster Nietzsche had warned against. It was now about protecting Belle and Gloria, and that meant removing certain players from the battlefield, namely Bates, Matheson, and Isaacson. When that was done, if he was still alive, he would hunt down Vargas. Then he would turn the weapon on himself.
He had spent the better part of two days building charges and working on the airboat in the shed. It was always important to have a secondary extract and a new means of insertion and extraction for upcoming missions. Now that he had it up and running, he would get it out on the swamp in the evening to make sure he could operate it effectively.
With the bombs built and the airboat operational, he was ready.
As he stepped into the cabin wiping his greasy, sweaty hands on his jeans, the first indication that something was off was the burning sensation that followed the impact of the two sharp barbs from the Taser cutting through his T-shirt and burying themselves in his skin. Excruciating pain trailed the electrical charge that ran down the attached wires, the voltage overriding his central nervous system, resulting in complete incapacitation. He was briefly aware of his muscles seizing as he fell to the floor.
New Orleans
Even at midday, shadows dappled the cobblestones of the French Market just downriver from Jackson Square. The humid air swirled with thescent of grilled shrimp, popcorn, and freshly baked baguettes. Stanton moved slowly past the vendors, his eyes scanning the crowd.
Stanton’s investigation had gone into overdrive following his meeting with Isaacson the previous afternoon. It was time to read his partner in on the latest development. He spotted J.J. near a stall that was selling hand-carved cypress bowls. She wore jeans and a loose blouse that hid her Glock. He gestured for her to join him.
