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Nash laughed at him. “We’ve been talking half the night and you haven’t said a single thing that has helped me.”
“I told you, I need to talk to Mitch.”
“He doesn’t want to talk to you, so you’re going to have to deal with me.”
And so it went round and round for most of the night, with Nash and Schneeman taking turns, neither of them getting any useful information out of the assassin. At four in the morning Nash called Kennedy midair and gave her a vague report covering what they had learned, which was pretty much nothing. Kennedy told Nash that she wanted all of them to get some sleep, and that included Gould. Despite his anger at the man, Nash didn’t stop Schneeman from giving Gould a bedroll, pillow, and blanket. The door locked from the outside and they put one guard in the hallway and another one in the observation room to keep an eye on the prisoner.
They let Gould sleep until almost noon and then fed him and started again. Again Nash failed to learn anything of value. Gould refused to speak to anyone other than Rapp. With everything this clown had done, Nash could not understand why they weren’t taking off the gloves and slapping him around. He was thi
nking about what kind of rough stuff he’d like to try, when the door opened.
“Time for a break,” Schneeman announced.
“This is not personal,” Gould said to Nash. “I need to speak to Mr. Rapp.”
Nash pushed his chair back and stood. Schneeman closed the door and led Nash into the observation room, where Kennedy was waiting.
“How’s it going?” Kennedy asked the question even though she knew they hadn’t learned a thing.
“Horseshit.”
Kennedy digested his coarse answer with a nod, then looked at the surveillance monitors. “So we’ve learned nothing of value.”
“That about sums it up,” Schneeman said.
“Erase everything.”
“Excuse me?”
“Erase everything you have of Gould. I don’t want a shred of proof that he was here.” When she noticed that they were hesitating, she said, “It’s of no value. Erase all the recordings and then turn off all the equipment.”
“What’s your plan?” Nash asked.
“I’m going to go in there and he’s going to tell me what I want to know.”
“Really.” Nash flashed a crooked grin. “You’re just going to ask him.”
“That’s right,” she said without undue confidence. “Now, if you’d please open the door for me I’d like to talk to him.”
Kennedy followed Nash back to the interrogation room, where he punched in the four-digit code on the cipher lock. Nash held the door open for his boss and then tried to follow her in.
Kennedy held up a hand. “I’ve got this.” Leaving a stunned Nash in the hallway she closed the door and turned to face Louie Gould. Kennedy took a seat and studied the man she had spent more time thinking of than even she realized. He had a nice face. Nothing too sharp, and his mouth had an almost perpetual soft smile. He was an interesting contrast to Rapp, whose face was composed of sharp lines. Rapp knew how to blend in and hide the fact that he was a killer, but he had to put some effort into it. Gould was a natural. His soft eyes had a sadness in them that she was sure he’d used to get past more than a few bodyguards.
“You know who I am?” Kennedy asked.
Gould shook his head.
“You sure?” Kennedy said as she offered him a faint smile.
“Sorry.”
“Mr. Gould, I know more about you than you could possibly imagine.”
“I need to speak to Mr. Rapp.”
“I’m afraid that’s not going to happen.”
“Why?”