“I’m past ready, son. Just get me in the room.”
FORREST KNOX THREW HIS StarTac phone against the wall of the lake house so hard that Alphonse Ozan jumped, and one of the two Black Team officers inside came running to the glass door.
“That double-crossing old son of a bitch,” Forrest shouted, turning to Ozan. “He told me to go fuck myself!”
Ozan didn’t know what to say.
“Snake’s taken Tom Cage!”
“What?”
“I had trouble reaching the Black Team guys in Garrity’s van this morning, but I put it down to the crappy reception down near Monterey. I guess you’d better send those two inside back down to the oil field and see what the damage is.”
Ozan’s face had gone dark. “You don’t think they shot any of our guys. . . .”
Forrest thought for a moment. “I don’t think Snake is that crazy, but you never know.”
“If he snatched Cage from the Black Team, there’s no way they’re gonna let that pass. They’ll kill his ass.”
Forrest snorted. “They had their chance last night, apparently, and they didn’t manage it. It never pays to underestimate Snake Knox.”
Ozan started to open the glass door, but Forrest said, “You know what? I’m worried Dr. Cage is already dead. Snake’s wanted him dead since Monday afternoon.”
“Yeah,” Ozan agreed. “I got that feeling myself.”
“We’ve got to find out. If he is alive, we can still use him. We have to think about where Snake could stash him and feel like he was safe on ice.”
“You don’t think the FBI could have the doc, do you?”
Forrest felt a chill run up his back. “Hell, no. If they did, why would Snake tell us he had him?”
“He might be working with ’em.”
Forrest considered this for exactly three seconds. “No chance. He’d castrate himself first. But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t fuck me if he thought I betrayed him. And he said I’d better have him and his crew out of jail in an hour.”
“Ain’t no way,” said Ozan. “Not with that much dope hanging around their necks. Not unless we take over the whole damned department.”
Forrest nodded. “I was considering that last night, but now that Dennis has pulled this meth switch, and with the FBI involved—and Snake being my uncle—there’d be too damned much scrutiny.”
Ozan grunted in agreement.
“Still no word on Mackiever resigning?” Forrest asked.
The Redbone shook his head. “Nobody’s texted or e-mailed me.”
“All right, then. If we’re going to bust Snake out of there soon, we’re going to have to think outside the box. We need reliable people, but they have to be several layers removed from us.”
Ozan nodded but offered no names.
Forrest looked out over the lake and considered the problem for a while. The low December sun had finally hit the water, and he could see fish jumping among the cypress knees. As he watched them, an ironic idea came to him. Ironic, and inspired.
“I think I know just who to call,” he said.
“Who?” asked the Redbone.
“You’ll find out. But we need to keep up the appearance of playing by the rules. You don’t have any word on Claude Devereux yet?”
“Nothing.”
“That lying Cajun. I’m going to roast him over a slow fire when this is all over.”
“Amen to that,” said the Redbone. “He’s always gotten on my nerves.”
“Then find him, Alphonse.”
Ozan nodded and punched a new number into his phone.
CLAUDE DEVEREUX WAS HALFWAY to Lafayette, Louisiana, driving a careful seven miles over the speed limit. It had taken him longer than he’d hoped to pack, but that came from not preparing sooner. He should have known that after Brody Royal’s death, the old order would start to break apart, with all the attendant chaos and risk that accompanied such changes.
He was taking a risk going to Lafayette, but he couldn’t bear to leave the country without seeing his grandchildren one last time. Given the crimes in which his employers had embroiled him, he might have to stay away for some time, years even, and at his age, he could easily die before he got a chance to return. In case of that eventuality, there were certain papers Claude wanted to give to his daughter. He could have mailed them, of course, but it wouldn’t be the same. He wanted to see Adeline’s lovely face when he told her there were millions that she had no idea existed, and that every dollar would pass to her someday.
The problem was, traveling from Vidalia to Lafayette meant driving through Baton Rouge (unless you wanted the trip to take twice as long as necessary), and Baton Rouge was Forrest’s home base. Still, Claude figured he had a couple of hours before Forrest realized something was really wrong. By then, he would have hugged his family, given them their gifts, and headed west to Houston, where he would board a plane bound for the Cayman Islands.
Devereux’s Catholic faith had lapsed more than six decades ago, but as he reached the outskirts of Baton Rouge, Claude began a litany of Hail Marys that would not cease until he had passed over the Atchafalaya Swamp to the west.
CHAPTER 56