Текст книги "Body of Lies "

Автор книги: Iris Johansen

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

Chapter 17

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1:10 p.m.

October

"HOW CLOSE ARE WE?” EVE ASKED. “IT SEEMS AS IF WE’VE BEEN IN THIS BOAT FOR

days.“

“Only four hours.” Dufour maneuvered the motor-boat around a huge mangrove branch jutting out of the water. “These bayous wind around like eels. You’re lucky you have me to guide you.” He darted a glance at Joe. “Maybe you pay me more money to take you back.”

Joe didn’t look at him. “You’re pushing it.”

“It’s a terrible thing to be lost in the swamp.”

“I’m not lost.” Joe’s gaze shifted to Dufour’s face. “I memorized every turn you’ve taken from the time we left the dock. Do you want me to repeat them back to you?” Dufour blinked, disconcerted. “No.” He quickly looked back at the muddy water ahead. “Can’t you take a joke? A deal is a deal.” Joe smiled without mirth. “That’s my philosophy.” Eve didn’t doubt that Joe had told the truth about knowing where they were, but she didn’t see how. The weather was chilly and damp, and ever since they had left the dock, it had been like being in an alien world. Scraggly cypress trees formed a dark canopy over the narrow, muddy waterway. Brown-black snakes occasionally glided by the boat, and skeletal trees clung with desperation to the bottom of the bayou, fighting for life in this hostile environment. And the vegetation was not the only thing fighting for life.

“What are those shacks on those little islands? Do people actually live there?” Eve asked.

“My cousin, Jean, would not be pleased to hear you call his home a shack. His place is very like those houses. Though most of the places we’ve passed are used primarily as camps by hunters and fishermen,” Dufour said. “But as you go deeper you find Cajuns who live as well as hunt in the swamps and marshes. I told you the people were poor here; they don’t have the guts to get out and earn real money like I do. So they’re lucky to have a roof over their head.”

“Sometimes overcoming poverty isn’t a matter of guts.” He shrugged. “Guts or stupidity.”

“Why are the houses built on stilts? The ground comes up to the front door.”

“That’s not the ground, it’s mud. This area is close to the ocean and, when the tide comes in, it brings the mud with it. When the tide goes out, the houses would sink below the water if they weren’t on pilings.”

“What a precarious way to live,” Eve murmured. Precarious and sad. “How deep is that mud?”

“Sometimes five or six feet.” Dufour grinned. “Not good if you’re a sleepwalker.

You drop off the porch and you have a mouthful of slime.“ He pointed to a shack several yards ahead. ”That’s Jean’s place.“

It was another small cypress shack, built on stilts and linked to the bayou by a narrow pier. A woman came out onto the porch and stood staring unsmilingly at them. She was small, thin, and very pregnant. Two small boys garbed only in dirty Tshirts and underpants were clinging to her skirts.

“Don’t stand there gawping at us, Marguerite,” Dufour said as he guided the boat close to the makeshift pier. “Tell Jean he has guests.”

“We don’t want the kind of guests you bring us. We’ve no use for tourists.” She glanced at Eve. “If you want to see how we Cajuns live, then go somewhere else.

Leave us alone.”

“Such rudeness.” Dufour clucked reprovingly. “I’ll have to tell Jean to beat you more often.” He tied the boat and jumped out on the pier. “Is he here?” She nodded. “He won’t want to see you.”

“Yes, he will. There’s money to be had.” He glanced at the woman’s swollen belly.

“And you can obviously use money right now. Two children under five years and another mouth to feed on the way?”

She hesitated, then turned on her heel. “Bring them.”

“Stay here, Eve.” Joe jumped out of the boat and strode toward the shack. “I’ll just take a little look around.”

Eve stiffened as he disappeared into the house. Joe was obviously in protective mode. The hell she’d stay here.

She scrambled out of the boat, but was only halfway up the wooden dock when Joe came to the door and waved for her to come in. She breathed a sigh of relief.

They were safe.

For now.

“I might know of such a place,” Jean Pierdu said slowly. “How much?”

“Five hundred to take us there,” Joe said. “And another five hundred if you can tell us anything that might be of interest to us about it.” Jean gazed at him impassively. “I know nothing about shells.”

“What do you know about graves?” Eve asked.

His expression didn’t change. “We keep to ourselves here.”

“But that doesn’t mean you don’t know exactly what’s going on,” Dufour said. “I heard rumors there were outsiders here a few years ago. We don’t care about outsiders, Jean. Why not get a little money for yourself?”

“We need it, Jean,” Marguerite said quietly. “He’s right, why should we care about outsiders?”

“Don’t interfere, Marguerite.” Jean was silent a moment, and then slowly nodded.

“A thousand.”

“I can tell you and Dufour are related,” Joe said dryly. “Seven hundred.”

“Give him the thousand, Joe.” Eve’s gaze was fixed on Marguerite and the two children.

Joe smiled faintly. “Okay.” He turned back to Jean. “Where is it?”

“The money.”

Joe reached for his wallet and counted out the cash. “Satisfied?” Jean nodded and stuffed the money in his pocket. “There are two islands about four miles from here. They’re in a little natural pocket of the swamp, and they caught the bulk of the shells when the floods came. That might be what you’re looking for.”

“They’re little mud islands like this one?” Eve asked.

Jean nodded. “I’ve lived here all my life and I’ve never run across anywhere else that had that many shells.”

“Are the islands close together?”

“Yes.” He paused. “But you’ll only be interested in the second one. There’s nothing on the other.”

Joe stiffened. “And what’s on the second one?”

“You won’t find your grave. It’s not there anymore.”

“But it was there?”

“Get more money,” Marguerite said.

Jean gave her an annoyed glance. “I was going to do that.” Joe peeled off another five hundred. “Was there a grave?” Jean nodded. “Two. Not marked. But they were there. I saw Etienne digging them. He was having a hard time. He said he had to anchor the bodies to the pilings because he didn’t want to chance the bodies being washed out and found.”

“Etienne Hebert? You knew him?”

Jean nodded again. “He came about the time the other two came. But he wasn’t like them. He was Cajun like us.”

“What other two? When?”

“About two years ago. Two men came and hired some of us to build them a house on the island and then forget they were there.” He shrugged. “The money was good.

Why should we care what they were doing? As long as they didn’t sell their drugs to our children, they could make all the powders they wanted. It wasn’t our business.”

“You thought they were into drugs?”

“We knew they were. Etienne told us. He would come and bring a bottle of wine and sit in that very chair and tell us about all the supplies that he brought down the bayou from Houma to the island.”

“He was a nice man,” Marguerite said. “You’re not going to get him into trouble?

He wasn’t to blame.”

“No, I promise Etienne won’t get into trouble,” Eve said.

“He always said that those crazy men would blow themselves up with all those chemicals they had him bring,” Marguerite said. “He was sad. I think he liked them.”

“And what happened to them?”

“What Etienne said would happen. One night there was a big explosion. When we went to see what happened, we found Etienne digging two graves. He told us to go away and forget what had happened. He said the police mustn’t know, or they would think we were all criminals, too.”

“And that’s what you did?”

“We’re not fools. The police think we’re scum. Etienne was right.”

“And what were the two men’s names?” Joe asked.

“What do you think?” Jean’s tone dripped sarcasm. “Smith and Jones. Do you think they’d give us their real names?”

“How long were they on the island before the explosion?” Eve asked.

“Four months, maybe. They came to us two months before that, but we wasted a little time because we started building on the first island. Then they decided it would be better to go a little deeper into the swamp, and we had to start again on the second.”

“How far apart are they?”

“About a mile. But a mile can make a big difference in the swamp.”

“You said you knew the grave wasn’t there anymore. How do you know that?”

“Etienne came back. He told us that the police were asking questions and he had to get rid of the skeletons.” Jean grimaced. “Trust the police to worry about dirt like that and try to cause us trouble. It wasn’t our fault they blew themselves up.”

“What do you know about Etienne’s brother?”

Jean frowned. “He has a brother?”

“He didn’t talk about him?”

Jean shook his head.

“That’s enough,” Dufour said. “Don’t tell them anything else unless they give you more money, Jean.” He smiled. “And a little bonus for me for bringing them to you.”

“You’ve probably squeezed enough out of them without dipping into my pockets,” Jean said. “And I’ll need all my money if me and my family have to disappear for a while.”

“Why do you have to do that?”

“You think I trust you or these people?” He looked at Joe. “We did nothing. We’re not responsible for how those crackheads died. They did it to themselves.”

“We’re not blaming you,” Eve said. “You don’t have to run away.” Jean ignored her. “Pack up, Marguerite.”

“We need you to take us to this island,” Joe said.

“Why? I told you, there’s nothing there.”

“There may be more than you think.”

Jean gave an exasperated exclamation. “Waste of time.” He stood up and headed for the door. “You want to see the place? You have a guide. I’m through with this.” He motioned to Dufour. “Come on, Jacques. I’ll walk you to the boat and tell you where it is.”

Joe moved after them. “I think I’ll tag along and listen in. I want to make sure we’re heading in the right direction.”

Eve was about to follow Joe out of the house, but stopped beside Marguerite, who was pulling out clothes from a scratched, shabby pine bureau. “Where will you go?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“We really mean you no harm.”

“Go away.”

Eve started for the door.

“Wait.” Marguerite was silent a moment. “We’ll be all right. We’ll go stay with friends for awhile until we’re sure it’s safe to come back. No one can find us in this swamp unless we want to be found.”

“If you knew you’d have to run away like this, why did you take the money?” Marguerite looked at her in wonder. “We needed it. It may not seem like a lot to you, but that much money will keep my children fed for months.” She pulled out a faded duffel bag from beneath the bed. “It’s worth the risk.”

“Eve,” Joe called from outside.

“Coming.”

Joe’s gaze raked her face as she came down the pier. “Did you convince her that we don’t mean to toss her family in jail?”

“No, she wouldn’t believe me. But she said the money was worth the risk. Those two little boys… I wonder if they get enough to eat. Poverty sucks, Joe.” Joe nodded, his gaze on Jean. “That’s not all it does.” She went still. “What do you mean?”

“It was a little too easy. It should have been harder to dig that information out of him.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “And it was a little odd that they didn’t know Etienne had a brother. From what we’ve heard, Etienne wasn’t the most discreet person in the world.”

He smiled. “I thought you were so concerned about those two little kids that you weren’t paying attention.”

“I’m sympathetic, not blind. You think Hebert got to Jean and set up a trap?”

“It’s possible.”

“Then his story is all a lie?”

“Not necessarily. The best lies are always the ones founded on truth.” He gazed thoughtfully out at the bayou. “Etienne probably did spin them a tale about a drug lab, and Jean and his neighbors did turn a blind eye. That doesn’t mean that Jules Hebert didn’t pop in last night and offer them enough money to make our bribe seem piddling.”

A chill went through her. “Then he’ll be waiting at the island.”

“That’s my guess.”

She drew a deep breath. “Good. Now how do we find a—”

“Later.” He turned and helped her into the boat. “Leave it to me.” Like she’d left it to him when he’d dumped her by the road outside New Orleans?

No way.

Chapter 18

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" HERE’S THE FIRST ISLAND.” DUFOUR POINTED TO THE MOUND OF MUD LOOMING

ahead. “The one that your drug-dealing friends were afraid was too out in the open and decided to abandon. My cousin didn’t get much done on it, did he?” A narrow pier weathered by water and time led to an equally weathered platform that must have been meant to be the foundation of the research facility. “According to Jean, the next island should be the one where you’ll find your grave.” He grinned. “Or lack of one. You sure you want to go on?”

“We want to go on,” Joe said. “But pull over to this island first. I want to make sure cousin Jean wasn’t lying about the shell content.” Eve looked at him in surprise.

Dufour shrugged. “Why not wait until you get to the right island?”

“Pull over.”

Dufour hesitated and then guided the boat close to the pier. “You’re wasting time.”

“It’s our time, and you’ve been well paid for it.” Joe jumped out of the boat before helping Eve. “We’ll be back in a minute, Dufour.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Eve asked in a low voice as she followed him onto the platform.

“I saw Dufour press a button on his cell phone right before we turned the last bend in the bayou. It was probably a signal to Hebert. I’d bet he’s waiting for us up ahead.”

“And why are we here?”

“I’m getting rid of an encumbrance.” Joe stood gazing out at the bayou. “You.” Eve stiffened. “Encumbrance?”

“You don’t like the word. But I’m not going to be polite. You’ll be in my way.

You’re staying here.”

“The hell I am. You pushed me out of that car in New Orleans. You’re not going to do it again.”

“Yes, I am.” He turned to face her and a ripple of shock went through her. His expression was colder and harder than she had ever seen it. “I’m not going to let either one of us die because you don’t want to be left out. This is my job, not yours. I don’t interfere when you’re doing the work on your skulls. Don’t interfere with me now.”

“I’m just supposed to let you go out and maybe get yourself killed?”

“I’d be more likely to be killed if I had to worry about you getting in my way.

That’s not going to happen.”

“And how are you going to stop me from going with you?”

“I’ll put you down for a little nap if I have to. Don’t make me do it, Eve.” And he would do it. She could see it in his expression. Joe had been heading in this direction since they had entered the swamp. The subdued excitement she had sensed had now broken free. Eve had never seen him more alive… or more dangerous. He was the hunter, the stalker, the warrior. “You can’t wait to dive in and go after him.”

He nodded. “I’m not like you. You want Hebert to be taken out because he’s a danger, because it’s necessary.”

“And you’re happy as hell to get the opportunity.”

“You’re learning a lot about me that you didn’t know before.” He smiled crookedly. “For instance, I never told you why I left the SEALs. You didn’t want to know about that part of my life. It was too violent for you.”

“Why did you leave the SEALs?”

“Because I liked it too much,” he said simply. “And I was getting too close to the line no one should cross. I was a killing machine.”

“That’s not true. That’s not you.”

“It was me. It could be me again. It could be me now.”

“No way. You couldn’t—”

“Hey, Quinn,” Dufour shouted from the boat. “Are you going to be all day?”

“He’s getting impatient.” Joe smiled. “Or maybe Hebert is impatient. We mustn’t keep him waiting.” He reached in his jacket pocket and handed her his gun. “Just incase.”

“Are you crazy? You’re going after Hebert without a gun?”

“I won’t need it.” He glanced down at the machete holstered on his belt. “In the swamp, guns aren’t my weapon of choice.” He turned and crossed the platform.

“Keep cool until I get back.”

“Joe, dammit.”

He glanced over his shoulder at her. “You know I’m right. You know you’ll be an albatross and could get me killed. You know you’d have to shoot me to keep me from going after him.”

“I might do it.”

He shook his head as he jumped into the boat. “Move, Dufour.”

“Joe.”

“You shouldn’t leave the lady alone,” Dufour said. “What if a snake—”

“Go,” Joe said.

Eve’s hand clenched on the butt of the gun as she watched the boat glide away from the island. Joe’s head was lifted as if he was scenting the wind. Maybe he was.

Nothing would have surprised her in this strange, fierce Joe.

She shouldn’t have let him go. She should have found a way to stop him.

Yet he was right. Joe knew what he was doing, and she could have put him in terrible danger if she’d gotten in his way. No matter how much she wanted to help, logic told her that going with him would have been a mistake.

Screw logic. She hated feeling this helpless.

She crossed to the edge of the platform, her gaze straining to get a last glimpse of Joe. Too late. The boat had already turned the bend of the bayou and was out of sight.

Come back.

Be safe, Joe.

Come back.

“It should be right around the next bend, Quinn,” Dufour said without turning around. “A few minutes. No more.” Where was that bastard Hebert? Dufour didn’t want to be the one to take out Quinn. He didn’t like the vibes the man was sending out.

Hebert had promised him things would go smoothly, and yet Quinn had already taken the woman out of the situation. He’d tell Hebert that he wasn’t to blame, that it wasn’t his fault.

Another moment passed.

No Hebert.

He would have to do it himself.

“There’s your island. On the left.” He cut the engine and gestured with one hand while the other reached surreptitiously into his knapsack for his gun. “It’s not much of a place. The house is burnt to the ground, and look at that—” He whirled with the gun in his hand and fired.

“What the—”

No one was there! Quinn’s jacket and boots were on the bottom of the boat, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Then Dufour saw him, beneath the water on the left side of the boat, moving fast.

Shit. Lightning fast. Toward the boat, not away from it.

Dufour carefully aimed and fired.

Eve glanced at her watch. Jesus, it had been only fifteen minutes. It had seemed like an hour. She couldn’t take this. What was she going to do? she thought bitterly.

Go swimming after them through the swamp? She should never have let—

A shot.

Her heart leaped in panic. Joe didn’t have a gun. It was here in her hand.

Another shot. Then another.

Oh, God.

“There’s a very good chance he’s dead, Eve.”

She whirled to the right from where the voice had come, raising the pistol.

A bullet shattered the barrel of the gun, the force of the vibration whipping the weapon from her grip. She got a lightning glimpse of Hebert as she dropped to the ground. He was sitting in a canoe, pointing a rifle at her.

“So much violence. I would never have thought it of you.” He cradled the rifle in his arm as he paddled closer to the pier. “And when I was trying to be merciful and give you a little more time. I could have killed you before you even knew I was here.

You didn’t hear me coming, did you?”

“No.”

“That’s because I don’t believe in using motorboats when I’m in the swamp. A paddle can be whisper-silent if it’s wielded by someone who knows what he’s doing.

Now, I’m going to get out of this boat. Don’t move or I’ll be forced to blow your head off.” Hebert stood up and jumped onto the pier. “There. You can get up now.” Eve slowly got to her feet. “Where’s Joe, Rick?”

“You recognize me? But then, my disguise wasn’t that elaborate. I thought you’d been too ill that night to pay me much attention. Still, I did make Rick Vadim a likable fellow, didn’t I?”

“Where’s Joe?”

“The last time I caught sight of him, Dufour was going around a bend near the research island. I was going to take Quinn out, but I couldn’t get close enough to him without him seeing me.”

“We thought you’d be waiting there on the island.” Hebert shook his head. “No cover. I had to get some distance away. But then I saw you weren’t in the boat, and I knew he must have dropped you someplace. So I decided to let Dufour take his chances with Quinn and come back and find you.”

“So you found me. Now what?”

“You heard the shots. We wait to see if Dufour comes back alone.”

“Or if Joe comes back alone.”

“There’s always that possibility. I hear Quinn is very good.”

“Better than you. Better than anyone.” Eve’s nails bit into her palms as her hands clenched into fists. “He’s not dead.”

“Then he’ll come back for you. And I’ll be here. You shouldn’t have come here. It was useless. Do you think I wouldn’t have come back and made sure there wasn’t any evidence?”

“You’re not infallible. You’ve made mistakes before. Evidently you made one here.”

“I’m not the only one who makes mistakes. Quinn made a big one leaving you here.”

“He thought I’d be safe. He wanted to protect me.”

“And he’s desperate to get back in your good graces. He wanted to fight the wicked monster and lay my carcass at your feet.” Hebert smiled. “You know, I was sorry at the time that I had to pull you into the reconstruction by using your daughter, but it does keep paying dividends.”

“Sorry?”

“I’m not made of stone.”

“You’re a murderer.”

“So is a Medal of Honor winner who kills the enemy in battle. It’s all a matter of means and ends.”

“You’re no hero.”

“I never said I was. I just fight for what I believe in.”

“And you believe it’s right to kill me.”

“I believe it’s necessary. But I’m a little sad to do it. I admire your strength. I’ll give you as long as I can before I put you down. I know how precious every moment can be.” Hebert’s gaze shifted to the bayou and he moved to the shadows at the side of the platform. “You just stand there where Quinn can see you when he comes around that curve in the bayou.”

“And you’ll pick him off.”

“If Dufour hasn’t done it for me. I paid him well enough to do the job, but I’m not sure he has the balls to tackle Quinn.”

Eve drew a deep breath. “Joe doesn’t have to die.”

“Of course he does. You know better than that. He knows too much. It’s my duty to keep the Cabal safe.”

“The FBI already knows of its existence.”

“Suspects.” Hebert smiled faintly. “There’s a difference. We have people in almost every FBI field office in the country. Evidence gets misplaced, information doesn’t get to key personnel, agents who know too much have ‘accidents.’ ”

“Like your brother. You killed him, didn’t you?” His smile disappeared. “He betrayed me; he betrayed the Cabal.”

“How?”

“I made a mistake. Once I’d tracked them down, and found Bently and Simmons here doing research on fuel cells, I sent Etienne to work for Bently and Simmons to bring in supplies from the city. I thought it would be easier for him to destroy them and the prototypes from inside. They trusted him. Everyone trusted Etienne. He was everyone’s friend.”

“When he wasn’t killing people?”

“He never killed anyone. I took him along because I hoped if the Cabal could see how loyal he was, they’d accept him. I taught him everything I could, but he had no heart for it. Still, I wanted him with me. I was lonely.” He drew a deep breath. “I set the charge to blow up the facility, but Etienne was the one who went in to verify that they’d both been killed after the explosion. People were used to seeing Etienne go back and forth to the island, so it was less suspicious. He told me that he’d seen the bodies and buried them.”

“He didn’t?”

“He liked Bently and Simmons.” Hebert’s lips tightened. “He liked everybody. He was only a youngster, and it wouldn’t have been hard for a smart man to manipulate him. I thought everything was fine. Until four months ago, when our sources in Detroit told the Cabal that there were new purchases being made similar to the ones that were bought by Bently two years ago. The order came from Louisiana.”

“It could have been someone else experimenting.”

“That wasn’t quite all. During the last two months, three Cabal members from Louisiana have died under circumstances that were a little suspect. They could have been accidents, but all three were known to be against environmental restrictions.

The Cabal doesn’t like coincidences, and they don’t like their members targeted.”

“Revenge?”

“It was a possibility.” Hebert smiled grimly. “Enough to scare Melton shitless. He was afraid he’d be next.”

“But how would Bently or Simmons know who the Cabal members were?”

“Haven’t you guessed? Bently belonged to the Cabal for over four years. He believed, as I do, that the power of the Cabal could work miracles. He was the one who brought Simmons’s invention to our attention. He wanted our help. Then when it was decided that the fuel cell had to disappear, he dropped out of sight and took Simmons with him.”

“They sent you after them.”

“And I found them. I always find them.”

“But this time you fouled up, didn’t you? You failed your precious Cabal.”

“I didn’t fail them,” he said, stung. “I made a mistake, that’s all. A mistake I corrected. After we heard from Detroit, we had to make sure that both the research and the men who’d done it were destroyed. Melton asked me if I was positive Simmons and Bently were dead. Of course I was positive. Hadn’t the person closest to me, the only man I trusted, told me that they were? But they asked me if I’d seen the bodies myself. What could I say? So they told me to go get the skeletons for DNA testing. I was in Barcelona at the time and I called Etienne and told him to retrieve the skeletons and meet me at Sarah Bayou near Baton Rouge. Melton had already arranged for a forensic anthropologist and DNA expert to meet us at the church, so that we could rush the tests.” He was silent a moment. “When Etienne showed up with the coffin, I could tell something was wrong the minute I saw him.”

“He didn’t have the skeletons?”

“Neither one. Just that damn skull. At first, he told me that the skeletons had been stolen. Then when he could see I didn’t believe him, he told me he’d destroyed both skeletons but had brought me Harold Bently’s skull.”

“Why?”

“He thought it would get me off the hook with the Cabal. He’d made sure the skull was almost impossible to identify, but he didn’t want to get me in trouble. He was proud of himself for thinking of a way to save me and still keep the Cabal from getting what it wanted.”

“But it didn’t save Etienne, did it?”

“He didn’t understand. I talked to him for hours trying to persuade him to tell me if we’d killed both men, and to whom the skull belonged. He wouldn’t tell me anything. All he’d say was that what the Cabal was doing was wrong and we should do what was right. He wanted me to break with the Cabal.” He shook his head. “He didn’t understand. The world would be chaos without the Cabal to guarantee order.

There have to be checks and balances. Someone has to guide our path.” My God, he actually believes what he’s saying. “I’m with Etienne. I don’t understand that concept, either. It’s just propaganda. So you killed him?”

“You make it sound so easy,” Hebert said bitterly. “You think I wanted to do it? I loved him. If there had been a way to save him, I would have done it.”

“There’s always a choice.”

“I had to tell the Cabal what he’d done. It was my duty. He’d betrayed them.”

“And they told you what to do.”

“Yes, Melton said to find a way to lure him to the church and dispose of him there. It was isolated enough for our purpose, and for what I had to do.” He paused.

“I told Etienne that we’d find a way to fool the Cabal. I’d steal a skeleton from one of the old graveyards outside of town and put it in the coffin, so that we’d have something for the experts who were supposed to be waiting at the church to examine it.” He swallowed. “It was easy. He thought it was a wonderful idea. He wanted to believe me. He always wanted to believe me.”

“Until the minute he died?”

“Until the minute he died.” Hebert’s eyes glittered with tears. “It was a merciful death. He was happy until the end.”

“No death is merciful.”

“It could have been worse. Melton told me that I had to make him talk before he died. That’s why he wanted me to take him to the church—so that I’d have all the privacy I needed. I’m very good at making people talk. I know every agonizing way.

I couldn’t do that to Etienne. He was very strong, very stubborn. It would have been a long, long time before he broke, and then he would have had to die anyway. So I disobeyed and killed him quickly.” His lips twisted. “Melton wasn’t pleased. I had to find a way to make amends for destroying any information Etienne might have given me.”

“And you found me.”

“I found you.”

“But you couldn’t know if Etienne had told you the truth about Bendy’s skull.” Hebert shook his head. “I thought I knew him well enough to know if he was lying about it—although he’d managed to fool me for two years. I could only hope.” He paused. “But after you became ill, I knew that either Bently or Simmons must still be alive. One of them wanted you dead, so that no one would know that he was still alive and working on the fuel cells. I questioned Marie Letaux that night before she died, but she genuinely had no idea who had hired her. She got a phone call and then money in her mailbox, and the promise of a final payment when she’d done the job.

She kept saying that it was only supposed to make you ill. That it wasn’t her fault.” He shrugged. “She was no help to me. I had to wait until you’d finished the reconstruction to find out which one had hired her.”

“How did you find out the skull was Bently’s?”

“A mole in Rusk’s FBI office. Jennings told Rusk right before he died that your reconstruction was definitely Bently. All hell broke loose after Jennings was killed; it was easy enough to pick up the info.”

“Then your mole must have found out what Jennings discovered about Boca Raton. What was it?”

Hebert smiled faintly as he shook his head. “So that you can ride to the rescue?

You still think you’re going to live through this, don’t you? I’ve always found that no one really believes they’re going to die until they do. I assure you, Eve, if I told you what was going to happen, you still wouldn’t be able to save the old tiger. The plan’s already in motion, and calculated down to the last gasp.”