“I apologize for the circumstances of your transport, Ms. Masters,” Brody says in a congenial voice. “I hope you can forgive the—abruptness of the journey. Randall, cut her wrists loose.”
Regan obviously doesn’t agree with this gesture, but he sets aside his laptop long enough to get up and cut the duct tape binding Caitlin’s wrists. From the expression on her face, I sense that Caitlin is thinking about the dead cop. I only pray she doesn’t say anything. If Brody wants to pretend he’s civilized, I’m perfectly willing to let him do it all night.
“You’re here, my dear,” he goes on, “because your fiancé and I made a business arrangement earlier this evening. And before I fulfill my half of the bargain, I need to be sure he’s going to do the same.”
“I can understand that,” Caitlin says carefully, glancing at me to check my reaction.
“Excellent.” Brody gives her an expansive smile. “Well, it so happens, you’re part of that arrangement. The mayor here has promised that my name will never appear in your newspaper—or any of your father’s papers—in connection with any crimes. Are you aware of those terms?”
Again I feel the sting of her gaze. “I am.”
“And do you intend to abide by them?”
She hesitates, then nods. “I do.”
“Why?” Brody asks, taking her off guard. “Why would you do that?”
She takes some time with this question. “Because Tom Cage means more to me than any newspaper story.”
“Does he indeed?” Royal picks up two sheets of printer paper off the sofa. “Then perhaps you can explain something to me. I have here a story titled ‘Local Journalist Survives Sniper Attack.’”
Caitlin blanches, her eyes wide.
“The smaller headline,” Brody goes on, tilting his head back to better focus on the page, “reads, ‘Vidalia Nurse Perishes.’ I figure quite prominently in this story, Ms. Masters. And not in a flattering light.”
Caitlin cannot hide her astonishment, and Brody savors it like a wolf licking blood. “I wrote that before I knew about the deal,” she says.
Brody nods slowly. “I’ve calculated the timing, and I have to admit that’s possible. But you can imagine this doesn’t do much for my confidence in our arrangement holding very long.”
“I’ll delete the story.”
Another smile, this one a little cooler. “It’s already been deleted. Your editor in chief never even saw it.”
While Caitlin tries to fathom whether this could be true, he says, “I bought myself a source at the Examiner. Took a page from Forrest Knox’s book. Remarkable how cheaply you can buy a journalist. I should have remembered. Carlos always kept a few scribblers on the payroll in New Orleans.”
In my mind, I see Caitlin’s purse being flung outside the building and the door being yanked shut behind her. She’s doing a workmanlike job of hiding her fear, but I sense how deeply Royal’s seeming omnipotence has shocked her.
Royal starts to go on, but his cell phone rings. He presses a button and holds it to his ear. “Yes? … How many? … Bring them here immediately, and deal with the car afterward … Right.”
He pockets the phone and studies Caitlin’s face for several seconds.
“Let me be frank, Ms. Masters. I have both copies of the recording of my daughter. Henry Sexton will likely be dead by morning. If he’s not, the Knoxes will surely finish him off. I’m confident that Dr. Cage won’t try to attack me, if I secure his freedom. He’s done me a similar service for the past forty years, so why change now? But what I don’t have—and what I absolutely require before I will order Colonel Knox to cancel that APB and arrest warrant—is the name of the witness who can place me at Albert Norris’s store the night he died. Without that, I’m afraid we have no deal. And without a deal … the mayor here will never see his father alive again.”
Just as in the hospital, Brody presents himself as a pragmatic negotiator rather than a ruthless predator. Could this show of civility mean Caitlin is right? Might he actually consider making a deal? Maybe killing us would cause too much of an uproar. Maybe he only wanted to scare us sufficiently before making his demands. But then I remember … his men just killed a cop.
“I asked for more than the APB to be canceled,” I remind him. “What about the dead state trooper?”
Brody shrugs as if this is of no consequence. “Trooper Dunn was murdered by a Mexican drug gang operating out of South Louisiana. Two witnesses will testify to that, and Sonny Thornfield will repudiate his earlier accusations about Dr. Cage. They were the result of hallucinations brought on by a reaction to prescription drugs. In actuality, Dr. Cage saved Thornfield’s life.”
Caitlin shakes her head in wonder. “Black is white, and white is black.”
A glint of pride shines in the cold gray eyes. “In the right hands, my dear, that’s true.”
“And Viola’s death?” I ask.
“Viola Turner was murdered by either Glenn Morehouse or Sonny Thornfield. Frankly, I’m not sure that’s been decided yet. Perhaps both. But does it really matter?”
“Thornfield would confess?” I ask.
Royal smiles. “I’m not sure he’ll be able to. I think last night’s heart attack may prove fatal after all.”
“My God,” Caitlin breathes. “Why would they kill their own man?”
Brody steeples his fingers and speaks with disinterested precision. “After Sonny’s meeting with Dr. Cage and Ranger Garrity, I’m not sure Forrest is fully convinced of Thornfield’s—reliability.”
“I’m not seeing anything like what we want,” Randall Regan interjects, still scanning his computer screen. “I’ve checked his SIM card and phone. I just killed the backup power source on Cage’s phone—the Bureau can track that, even with the main battery removed. Moving on to hers now.”