Various papers and television stations also received e–mail from the Carnifice server, describing the manufacturing relationship between Carnifice and Global at the Coolis prison site. Because the source of the report could not be verified, it is not clear whether the information is accurate or whether it comes from a disgruntled Carnifice employee. Efforts to view the prison shop have been rebuffed by Coolis authorities, but state lawmakers are demanding an inquiry.
Mr. Baladine would not return phone calls to this paper, but Global Entertainment spokeswoman Alexandra Fisher says Global is considering the possibility that a local private investigator with a grudge against Baladine may have perpetrated the vandalism. The investigator, V. I. Warshawski, spent a month at Coolis after Mr. Baladine had her arrested on kidnapping charges. Although Ms. Warshawski escaped with what physician Dr. Charlotte Herschel calls brain–threatening injuries, Ms. Fisher says no one actually knows the detective’s whereabouts. Finding the solo investigator is Carnifice Security’s first priority. (See Page B45 for coverage of some of Ms. Warshawski’s investigations into industrial espionage.)
Father Lou was reading the report in the Sun–Times, which gave the story the most attention of any of the Chicago papers. The Herald–Star, as a Global paper, ran a one–paragraph story in the business section that sounded as though there’d been a brief snafu in the Carnifice e–mail server. The Star didn’t mention the Global T–shirt connection at Coolis. The Tribune ran a half column in the middle of Marshall Field’s big Labor Day advertising spread.
“So now what?” Morrell asked when I’d finished reading. “Wait for the Carnifice clients to drop like flies and come running to Warshawski Investigative Services for help?”
I made a face. “They’re busy doing damage control at Carnifice. And the CEO of Warshawski et cetera had better surface if she wants any clients. I think the next thing is a media show. For which we need secure space. That, I think, will get BB so furious that he’s likely to come for me in person. I want to put together a little tape of all my bits and pieces of pictures. Make some bullet–point slides—everyone feels they’ve gotten real information if you give it to them in bullet points. And I want a VCR so I can watch Baladine’s home videos. He was taping himself having sex with Alex Fisher yesterday. It struck me as funny that the guy keeps his old home–security tapes, so I took three.”
Father Lou stared at me in disgust. “Man photographs himself having intercourse? Did the girl know?”
“She tried to get the tape from him, but he wouldn’t let her.” I didn’t feel like explaining that I had it now. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with it.
“Got a VCR in the school you can use,” the priest said. “I’m still not sure whether you’re doing the right thing, not sure I should encourage you since you stole the tapes you want to look at, but the man Baladine seems to do people a variety of harm. Set it up for you, then I have to meet with members of the parish council. Got a bunch of kids coming, cleaning out the crypt before school starts tomorrow. Parish picnic this afternoon. Lots to get done.”
I ran down to my room and picked up the tapes I’d taken from Baladine’s closet yesterday. The three of us walked through the church to a door that connected to the school. The dark vaulted space was full of life as a group of boys shouted to each other behind the altar: “Bet you it’s full of bones.” “Yeah, Carlos here is going to faint when he sees one of those arms coming after him, ain’t you, man?”
Father Lou interrupted them with a good–natured shout that they needed to be more afraid of him than of any bones and he’d be back in a minute to make sure they were clearing out the old hymnals. He undid the dead bolt and led us into another long unlit hallway. He walked quickly in the semidarkness. Morrell and I kept tripping on things like loose tiles as we tried to keep pace. Father Lou took us up a back staircase to the school library. There he reluctantly decided he needed light to see what he was doing and turned on one dim desk lamp.
When he saw that Morrell and I knew how to set up the VCR, he went back downstairs to see how his hooligans were doing in the crypt. I started with the tape for the week that Frenada died.
We got a series of disconnected frames from the voice–activated system of Rosario waking Utah and Madison, of Eleanor starting work with them in the pool and then turning off the camera. And then Frenada was poolside with Trant and Baladine. The little red date in the corner identified it as June 26, the night Frenada died. Trant said he understood Frenada was telling people that he, Trant, had stolen a T–shirt and he was tired of hearing about it. Baladine must have turned the camera off at that point because the next scene was the following day with Rosario in the nursery.
I sat back in my chair. “No proof, but very suggestive,” I said to Morrell. “Let’s get some copies of this before I send it back to the Baladines.”