Текст книги "26 - Storm Cycle "

Автор книги: Iris Johansen

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THIRTEEN

STATE HERMITAGE MUSEUM

10:02 P.M.

"What the hell!" Tavak whirled on Lev. "Dammit, what did you do?"

"Nothing." Lev was gazing in bewilderment around the exhibition hall. "I swear, my friend."

Rachel, Tavak, Allie, and Lev stood in the exhibition hall where, just hours before, they had seen the large relief from the tomb of Nimaatra.

Now there was nothing.

The other exhibits appeared just as they were before, but the mastaba wall and its wood and glass display case had vanished.

"I don't believe this," Rachel whispered.

"What in the hell happened to it?" Tavak's harsh voice echoed in the large, dimly lit room. He walked around the empty space where the display had been.

Rachel turned to Lev. "Ask the guard where it is."

Lev spoke in Russian to the elderly guard, who seemed more surprised than anyone at the exhibit's sudden disappearance.

The guard's only response was to hold out his hands and give a vague shrug.

"Could it actually have been stolen?" Allie asked incredulously.

The stunned guard mumbled something to Lev, who translated. "The guard says he knows it was here when the museum closed at 6 P.M. He's been in one of the other buildings since then, but he's going to try and find a guard who was working here this evening."

The guard hurried away, obviously eager to get away.

"Dawson?" Rachel asked.

"I don't know." Tavak was staring at the floor, which was mildly discolored where the display case stood. "Maybe."

"Looking for something, Tavak?"

"Oh, shit," Tavak said.

Hal Demanski was leaning against the archway of the entrance, wearing another one of his impeccably tailored suits. He crossed his arms across his chest and smiled. "Perhaps I can help."

Rachel glared at him. "You son of a bitch."

"Aw, come on, Rachel. And here I was getting all warm and fuzzy at the thought of us being together again."

Tavak stepped toward him. "What did you do?"

Demanski shrugged. "I took the exhibit, if that's what you're asking."

"Dammit, you don't know what you're doing."

"I know you need that exhibit. You were less than discreet in your inquiries about it."

"I didn't have time to be discreet," Tavak said. "And what does it matter to you?"

"You made it matter when you broke into my casino's private floors. Just as Ms. Kirby made it matter when she extorted computer time from me."

Rachel and Tavak were on the verge of erupting, but Allie quickly stepped forward. "Stop baiting them. Just tell us what this is all about, asshole. And I seem to have been left out of the loop. You are Demanski, right? I'm Allie Kirby."

"Ah, yes." Demanski took her hand and raised it to look her up and down. "You look healthier than I might have imagined, Ms. Kirby. Much healthier and quite… interesting. Aren't you supposed to be wasting away somewhere?"

Allie shrugged and jerked her hand away. "I figure I can do that as easily in Russia as I can back home."

"Excellent point. A pleasure to meet you, Allie Kirby. Yes, I'm Hal Demanski."

Lev's eyes widened. "The Hal Demanski?"

"Oh, my Lord, be quiet," Rachel said. "His ego is big enough already."

Demanski smiled, still staring at Allie. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I didn't steal that exhibit."

"Then what happened to it?" Tavak said.

"I borrowed it. Legally." Demanski tilted his head. "At least I think it was legal. Oh well. In any case, the museum director signed off on it."

Rachel shook her head. "Just like that."

"Yes." Demanski strolled across the room toward them. "I decided that my casinos should feature a 'Treasures of the Hermitage' traveling exhibit. We had success with a Louvre exhibit a few years ago, and it didn't take much to convince the Hermitage director that this could be a mutually beneficial arrangement."

Rachel stared at him incredulously. "You convinced him of this in the space of twenty-four hours?"

"Well, I agreed to loan them some artwork of mine that they've inquired about in the past. One painting is from the corridor outside my office. I'll miss it."

"My heart bleeds," Rachel said.

"Of course, I also made an extremely generous contribution toward the museum's improvements program. I assume that's what it was for, anyway. I paid it to the director in cash. Think I should have gotten a receipt?"

Tavak turned to Lev. "We bribed the wrong man."

"Don't blame yourselves. How could you have known I'd come along? Of course, all this was contingent on my taking possession of the exhibits immediately." Demanski pointed to a tapestry on the wall. "Damn. I should have asked for that, too. It's exquisite."

"Why?" Tavak asked. "Do you even know what we're doing here?"

"Since we met the other night, I've made it my business to know everything about you, Tavak. You'd be surprised what a man in my position can find out if he's willing to commit the necessary resources."

"I can imagine," Tavak said dryly.

"I know you've been following a trail that begins and ends with the great Egyptian physician Peseshet. And the fact that Rachel Kirby has taken such a keen personal interest indicates that a treatment option for GLD must be involved. But any such treatment almost certainly goes hand in hand with regenerating the cells of the central nervous system. That's quite an endgame."

"It would be, if any of it were true."

"Don't insult me, Tavak. The only question now is, where do we go from here?"

Rachel exchanged looks with Tavak and her sister before turning back to Demanski. "What do you want?"

"I want to be your partner."

Tavak laughed. "Go to hell."

"If my computer cycles are feeding the system that's generating the answers you need, I'm already a partner. And, since I possess a piece in which you obviously place great importance, that should make me even more indispensable. I want to share in the hunt… and the spoils."

"What kind of share are we talking about?" Tavak said.

"Half."

"No way."

"I have the exhibit."

Tavak smiled. "For now."

"Is that a threat? You think you can take it from me?"

"Did you think Rachel Kirby could take your casino for over two million dollars the other night?" Tavak shrugged. "If she and I put our heads together, I'm sure we could come up with something."

"Debatable. In the meantime, maybe I should cast my lot with another team. Mills Pharmaceuticals, perhaps? I'm sure they'd love to take a look at the mastaba wall." He smiled at the surprise on Rachel's and Tavak's faces. "Why are you so startled? I told you I do my homework."

Rachel was once more aware of the intelligence and driving force that was Demanski. He had executed this extraordinary coup, and he was not going to stop until he had what he wanted. It would be better to negotiate than have him constantly in their way.

"One-third," Rachel said. "If this is as big as we think it could be, that would make your casino empire look like chump change."

"You're overstating things a bit."

"You don't believe that," Rachel said. "You like the big ideas. Whatever the financial rewards, this idea is one of the biggest. And this is the team you want to be on. You wouldn't be wasting your time here with us if you didn't."

"A third is quite generous," Tavak said. He shot Rachel a look. "More generous than I would have been if my partner had bothered to consult me."

Demanski shook his head. "I've already invested a lot of money in this venture."

"A lot of money?" Allie snorted. "My sister was almost killed not too long ago. Stop bellyaching about your damn checkbook."

"I thought it was worth a shot." Demanski smiled at her. "One-third, huh?"

"Mr. Demanski?" A thin, white-haired man in a black suit stepped into the room, followed closely by the guard to whom Lev had spoken. The white-haired man was gazing warily at Tavak, Rachel, and Allie. "Is there some problem?"

"Not at all." Demanski clasped his hand on the man's shoulder and turned to the others. "I'd like you to meet Dennis Chernov, director of this fine institution."

Chernov brow creased. "May I ask, who are these people?"

The guard held his breath, gazing in panic at Lev.

Demanski didn't answer immediately, obviously savoring the moment. Then a smile lit his face. "Only business associates of mine. We just closed a deal to work together on a very exciting project. I invited them to join me here. Hope you don't mind."

* * *

After Demanski settled a few final details with the director, he exited with the others down the short stairway to the street.

"I assume we have a deal?" Rachel asked.

"Yes," Demanski said. "Why not?"

"So where's the mastaba wall?" Tavak asked.

Demanski looked down the dark street and raised his hand. Headlights lit up the night and a truck and two police cars roared to life. "Crated up inside that truck. Do you know what you're looking for on it?"

"Not in the slightest."

"I have a cargo plane waiting on an airstrip outside the city. I suggest we get off Russian soil before anyone realizes what just happened here. Agreed?"

Tavak nodded. "Agreed. Where is the plane going?"

"Wherever I want it to go." He lifted his hand and gestured. "Need a lift back home?"

A black limousine raced up the street and skidded to a stop in front of them. The vehicle's automated rear doors slowly swung open.

Rachel shot Demanski a sideways glance. "Tempting, if I wasn't so afraid of being thrown out over the Atlantic."

"The idea has its charms, but I'm quite sure you'll be calling and texting people to let them know you were with me. Besides, the cargo plane is a charter. Do you have any idea how much I'd have to pay to keep that crew's mouths shut?"

Allie shook her head. "This is going to be some partnership."

Tavak turned toward Lev. "It appears that we have another way home. Our paths diverge here, old friend."

"I can see that. I hope you find everything you're looking for."

"Me too."

Lev turned toward Rachel and Allie. "And it was a pleasure to meet two such charming sisters. Remember, you're always welcome at my place. You must promise you'll return."

Rachel clasped his hand. "I can't thank you enough, Lev."

Allie playfully pushed her sister aside. "And I'll definitely be back. Do svidaniya, Lev." She gave him a hug.

Lev was practically beaming, Rachel noticed in amusement. Allie had won another fan.

Demanski gestured toward the open limo doors. "Please."

Rachel, Allie, Tavak, and Demanski piled into the limo. The doors automatically closed, and the limo pulled away from the curb.

After a block, one of the police cars passed them and took the lead. The other squad car, Rachel noticed, dropped behind the truck. Within a few minutes, the caravan was on the ring road that circled the city.

Demanski leaned forward and faced the others on the limo's long, U-shaped seat. "So how close are you to cracking this?"

"We don't know," Rachel said. "Each of these pieces contains a bit more of Peseshet's cure, plus a clue to the location of the next piece. My system has decoded some, but not all, of the pieces we've gathered."

"How do you know the cure even works? Our craziest new age treatments look absolutely sane and reasonable compared to a lot of the stuff that passed for medicine in those days."

"Yes, but some were right on target. Did you know that the pyramid workers were prescribed large quantities of garlic, onions, and radishes? For centuries no one knew why. Only in the early 1900s did we realize that an antibiotic, raphanin, could be extracted from radishes. And allicin and allistatin are now derived from onions and garlic. The Egyptians knew things that took over a millennium for us to rediscover."

Demanski nodded. "I can see that I'll have to play catch-up. Who wants to bring me up to speed?"

"Rachel and I will fill you in," Tavak said. "On the plane. We have a long flight ahead of us."

"Can't wait." He smiled at Allie. "Though I might prefer to have you do it. I haven't been called an asshole in a long time. It was an interesting experience. I'm already intrigued by our new association. This may prove to be better than an in-flight movie."

"What's that?" Rachel was staring out the window at a tall, white suspension bridge of stark, modernist design. Brilliantly illuminated, it featured a tall center span with cables splaying outward to each riverbank in a pattern that reminded her of a spiderweb.

"It's the Big Obukhovsky Bridge," Tavak said. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

"I don't know. I haven't made up my mind yet."

"It's the only nondrawbridge on the river," Demanski said. "Most cargo-boat traffic is scheduled for evenings, and I didn't want to get stuck waiting for one of the other bridges to open. We'll be on the plane in fifteen minutes."

Their caravan drove onto the bridge, which Rachel realized was actually two parallel structures, one for each direction of traffic.

They had traveled more than halfway across when a municipal T-bus suddenly pulled in front of the lead police car and slowed.

Tavak turned to peer out the front windshield. "What's the holdup?"

"Just a city bus," Demanski said.

Tavak studied it and then shook his head. "I don't like this."

Demanski took a second look at the bus. "What's the big deal?"

"All of its interior lights are turned off. The lights have been on in every other bus we've seen."

"You're right," Rachel said. "We can't see inside."

The bus slowed down even more.

Demanski called out to the driver. "Go around the bus. Now!"

The limo immediately changed lanes. Demanski opened the sun roof, stood, and motioned for the truck to do the same. The truck and the rear police escort moved to the left lane behind the limo.

"Flash your brights at the police car up ahead," Demanski instructed the driver. "We need to get away from this bus. And once we get past—"

The limo lurched to a stop, throwing them all from their seats. Rachel struggled to her knees and looked out the window. The bus had swerved and stopped, blocking all lanes of traffic.

"Shit!" Tavak pulled himself up and turned to Demanski. "I only have my Magnum. Do you have any other weapons?"

"No. Why should I? We have a police escort."

Tavak began to curse.

The bus's rear window shattered, and a long, dark barrel suddenly appeared through the hole in the glass.

"I think we're going to get your answer. They've got us beat," Tavak said.

The barrel flashed, and the lead police car exploded and flipped over. Fiery debris rained down on and around them.

"A rocket launcher," Demanski said in disbelief.

Rachel felt as if she couldn't breathe. "Dear God… "

Tavak threw open the passenger door. "Everybody get out! And hit the bridge running."

They scrambled out of the limo, leaping over piles of burning debris as they ran back past the other stopped cars.

Some of the drivers of those cars were screaming, but most merely stared ahead in shock. They were numb, Rachel realized. Just like she was. They couldn't believe this was happening.

Another low, sickening blast sounded behind her, and she turned just in time to see the limo explode. A burning tire rim flew from the wreckage and rolled past as if trying to race them from the carnage.

"Don't stop!" Tavak yelled. "Keep running!"

Rachel turned to Allie. Her sister's breathing was labored. "You okay?"

Allie nodded, not wasting breath to speak.

"We've got company," Demanski said grimly.

Rachel turned. About a dozen black-uniformed men charged from the bus, outfitted with Kevlar vests and automatic rifles.

Tavak rapped on the windshield of the other police car. The shaken officer was on his radio, but upon seeing the approaching gunmen, he dropped the microphone and drew his revolver. Tavak shook his head "no" and motioned for the officer to climb out and follow them behind the stopped cars. The policeman scrambled from the squad car.

They took cover behind a white panel van. "They're not interested in us," Tavak said. "They want what's in the truck."

He leaned toward the police officer and spoke in Russian. The officer nodded, and he and Tavak took aim with their handguns and fired several shots toward the truck.

"You didn't hit anyone!" Allie said.

"We didn't mean to. We blew out the tires on the truck and the bus."

As they watched, six of the gunmen climbed on top of the truck while six others swung out their rifles and covered them with a perimeter around it. The men on the truck quickly affixed a series of silver discs down the length of the roof and down the rear side.

"What are they doing?" Rachel asked. "Are they trying to destroy it?"

"No," Tavak said.

The men jumped off the truck, ran back fifteen feet, and the discs detonated. When the smoke cleared, Rachel saw that the rear compartment had been cleaved lengthwise in two. The gunmen were already throwing wire cabling over the jagged edges and peeling back the compartment shell. The metal siding groaned as it pulled away, revealing dozens of crated objects.

"Priceless," Demanski muttered. "Every last one of them."

"They only want one thing." Tavak tilted his head, listening. "What's that?"

A chopping, throbbing sound cut the air. Rachel looked up. At first there was nothing to see, but a spotlight suddenly appeared from a helicopter approaching the bridge.

Taking cover behind a car, Tavak and the officer opened fire. Rachel turned away as blood sprayed from two of the gunmen's foreheads. The others returned fire and took positions behind the truck and the limo's burning wreckage.

One of the wounded gunmen dropped a canvas bag. Several explosive discs rolled across the pavement, narrowly missing a pool of burning fuel from the limo explosion.

"Stay here," Tavak told Rachel. He, the police officer, and Demanski weaved through the burning wreckage to take positions closer to the truck.

Rachel felt the helicopter rotor pounding in her chest as it came closer. The engine noise overwhelmed her as the blades kicked up a fierce, howling wind.

The helicopter moved directly over the truck and dropped several lines. As the gunmen moved toward them, Tavak and the police officer pushed them back with a barrage of gunfire.

"We should do something," Allie said.

Rachel pulled her behind the van. "Got any ideas?"

"Anything's better than—Rachel!"

She whirled and saw that one of the gunmen had crept around the stopped cars and pounced, snapping his arm around Allie's neck. He held a handgun to her head.

"Call them off!" the gunman shouted over the wind and engine noise. "Tell them to lay down their weapons."

"Don't hurt her!" Rachel said.

"Tell your friends to back off. Now!" He pushed the gun barrel hard against Allie's temple.

Rachel backed away. "I will. Just… don't shoot."

She looked into Allie's eyes. Never comfortable in the role as a victim, Allie was now pissed as hell.

Save it, Allie. Please, baby. Don't do anything that will make him pull that trigger.

"Call them off." His arm tightened around Allie's throat. "Now."

"I'm going to do it. I have to—"

Demanski.

He had suddenly stood up next to the car behind her sister.

Thank God.

He was holding one of the silver explosive discs. He moved closer to the gunman as he carefully turned a dial on the disc's side.

Distract the bastard. Keep him from noticing Demanski.

She yelled to the gunman. "They can't hear me from over here. I need to go to them!"

The gunman hesitated, then nodded. He started to motion for her to move forward. "Go. Keep close to—"

In the next instant Demanski slammed his elbow down over the gunman's wrist. The gun flew out of his hands!

Before the gunman could turn around, Demanski jammed the silver disc down the back of his bulletproof vest.

He yelled to Rachel and Allie. "Move! Move!" He picked up the gun and pushed them forward. "Get away from him."

Rachel turned to see the gunman twisting and turning, desperately contorting himself to reach the disc.

Boom!

Rachel took one look at the carnage that was left of the man blown apart by the blast before glancing quickly away.

"I was afraid we'd get blown off the bridge." Demanski stared at the gunman. "I guess Kevlar works both ways."

Gunfire erupted from the open doors of the helicopter. Rachel and Allie took cover, and Demanski glanced over to the truck. "They've pinned down Tavak and the cop."

As the helicopter cut loose with more suppressing fire, the gunmen swarmed over the now-open truck. With military precision, the gunmen gripped the lines and clipped them to hooks on their uniforms. They dragged four lines into the truck, and after one of the gunmen gave a thumbs-up sign, the copter rose, lifting the men and a large crate into the air.

Demanski looked up in amazement. "Holy shit." He raised the gun and squeezed off several shots before a volley of gunfire from the copter pushed him back down.

The helicopter roared away, and as the sound and wind subsided, it seemed to Rachel as if a vicious, terrible storm had come and gone.

She glanced dazedly around her. Small fires burned, and pockets of debris were strewn across the bridge. Drivers had begun to emerge from their cars, and there was screaming and crying issuing from every direction.

Tavak ran toward them. "Is everybody okay?"

Rachel nodded. "Who the hell was that?"

"I have my suspicions. There are only a few mercenary teams who are that skilled and high-tech. I'd bet on Kilcher." Tavak turned to Demanski. "You saw the crate. Is that what I think it is?"

Demanski nodded. "It was the mastaba wall. They knew what they wanted, and they went right for it."

"Better than an in-flight movie, huh?" Allie said through her teeth. "What the hell do we do now?"

Tavak looked in the direction of the helicopter, which had by now disappeared in the night sky. "Now we get it back."

OIL TANKER PHOENIX

BALTIC SEA

1:14 A.M.

Dawson adjusted his earplugs as the helicopter touched down on the oil tanker's helipad. Before the door even slid open, he spied the crate behind the tempered glass.

Success!

Kilcher and his team climbed from the copter and strode across the deck, pulling off their helmets and flak jackets.

Dawson chuckled. Testosterone practically dripped from the men. Even from the one woman in the team. Hell, maybe especially from the woman. He'd chosen Kilcher because he was experienced but still had the intelligence to pick young and agile subordinates who'd try anything. Kilcher was in his midfifties, his face lined and weather-beaten. The rest of his team were in their twenties or thirties.

Kilcher was glaring at Dawson as he stopped before him. "I lost three men tonight."

"Then your team isn't as efficient as you told me it was."

Kilcher looked as if he wanted to rip Dawson's throat out. "They were good men. It's gonna set me back."

"Then it's a good thing I'm paying you so well, isn't it? Did you get the item?"

"Yeah, it's in there. But I did a bit of research today, and it's not even worth half what you're paying us." He gestured around the oil tanker's massive top deck. "Never mind what all this has to be costing you."

"When my employer wants something, no cost is too great."

Kilcher said sourly, "So he's one of those billionaire nutjobs with a roomful of stolen artwork only he can look at."

"That's no concern of yours." Dawson gestured toward the waiting crew members he had hired for the occasion. They pulled the crate from the helicopter and moved it onto the loading platform.

Dawson picked up a crowbar and pried off one of the wood panels. He pulled out several handfuls of packing straw, then peeled away a thick rubbery membrane to reveal a corner of the limestone mastaba wall. He backed away and turned to an operator with a large remote box in his hand. "Okay, take it down."

The platform lowered and took the crate belowdecks.

Exhilaration soared through Dawson as he turned back to Kilcher. "Good job. I may have other uses for your services. I'm sure we'll be speaking again soon."

"As long as the money is good enough. That attack turned out to be a little high-profile. I may need some downtime."

Dawson glanced back at the mastaba wall. Oh, yes the money would definitely be good. "But now get your helicopter as far away from here as you possibly can. The commanders of this tanker have been gracious hosts, but I'm afraid there's a limit to their indulgence."

HOUSTON, TEXAS

2:16 A.M.

"The Feds are taking the body."

Finley was still half-asleep when he picked up his phone. "Gonzalez?"

"Who in the hell else?"

"So what about the Feds?"

"I told you. The Feds are taking the shooter's corpse. Peterson down at the morgue got the call, and he just tipped me off."

Finley sat up in bed. He'd been living in a one-bedroom apartment since he'd split with his wife a year earlier, and he still felt as if he was in a strange hotel room whenever he woke up. "Which Feds?"

"I'm not sure Peterson even knows. The agent on the phone told Peterson that this case has suddenly become a national-security issue."

"Our case? Shouldn't somebody have told us?"

"Somebody did. The morgue guy."

"Nice."

"Anyway, I'm already on my way down there. I don't want them to cart away our biggest piece of evidence without answering a few questions. You want in on this?"

"Yeah, I'll see you there."

* * *

Twenty-five minutes later, in the corridor outside the crime lab's morgue, Wayne Norton jammed a sheaf of papers at Finley. "There's all the authority I need, Detective. Now if you'll excuse us… "

Norton motioned to the two young men behind him. They had the shooter's bagged body on a gurney, ready to be rolled out to the adjacent parking garage. Finley and Gonzalez had arrived just in time to catch them leaving.

The detectives blocked Norton's path. "We're not done with him," Gonzalez said.

"Those papers say you are."

Finley cursed under his breath. "Come on, Norton. Who is this guy?"

"I can't discuss that."

"Why the hell not? You wouldn't even have him if it wasn't for us."

"Then let me express my deepest gratitude on behalf of the United States government."

Finley glared at him. "Screw that. Give us something to go on. The corpse's prints don't show up on any database, and there was no match on a facial scan. What are you not telling us?"

"Who says there's anything to tell? You're the ones who have had the corpse for the past couple days. Maybe we just want a crack at it."

"In the name of national security."

"Yes."

"Security from campus shootings?"

"Possibly."

"Uh-huh. Strange that your agency showed zero interest in this case until we started sending around this guy's prints and scans."

Norton shrugged. "I know you guys have been busting your hump on this case, and I'm sorry. But I can't say any more. When I can, I promise I'll get in touch."

Gonzalez leaned closer to him. "We both know what's going on here. Our inquiries tripped something on one of your databases, didn't it? One of the databases that you don't share with anybody else. And it must have been something really good for you guys to schlep out here at two thirty in the morning and drive off with a corpse from our crime lab."

"We're a twenty-four/seven operation, Detective. Just like your department."

"Uh-huh. You know, of course, ballistics matched the weapon we found with him. We know it's the same gun used to shoot Rachel Kirby."

"I do know that. Excellent work. As a matter of fact, the rifle is already in our truck."

Gonzalez laughed bitterly. "Great. Just great."

"We picked it up before we came down here. The authorization is in the paperwork I gave you."

"Of course it is."

"We're through here, gentlemen. Good luck with your investigation." Norton moved past them.

The other two men followed him, pushing the gurney down the corridor and through the red exit doors at the far end.

After the doors clanged shut, Finley turned to Gonzalez. "Dammit to hell."

"Yeah."

Finley scowled. "We could take the easy way out. We could just file the paperwork and close our eyes."

Gonzalez looked at him. "That's not going to happen."

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Gonzalez nodded. "We need to talk to Carlos."

* * *

The white-paneled van had just pulled onto the Katy Freeway when Norton's phone buzzed. He checked the caller ID screen. Deputy Director Robert Pierce.

He answered the call. "Good morning, Mr. Pierce. Are you up late or early?"

Pierce ignored the question. "Do you have the corpse?"

"Yeah, we just left the morgue. Someone tipped off the local cops and they gave us a little flak. No big deal. We're heading for Ellington Airport per instructions. Anything else?"

"No. You've done very well, Norton." Pierce cut the connection.

Better than you could dream, you arrogant bastard, Norton thought. He was walking a tightrope, but the delivering of this body should rid Pierce of a few of his suspicions.

Yes, he'd done very well.