Forrest reached down and scratched his pit bull between the ears. A low sound of satisfaction came from the animal’s barrel chest.
“Mackiever was holed up in his house until about twenty minutes ago,” Forrest said. “The press had surrounded him like Indians around a wagon train. But he managed to slip out.”
“How did he do that?”
Ozan said, “His son-in-law, his nephew, and three or four older guys from the Highway Division blocked in the media with their vehicles. The colonel and his wife got out during the melee. Where they are now, nobody knows.”
Claude didn’t like the sound of this. “He hasn’t contacted you about resigning?”
“Not so far.”
“Have you tried to reach him?”
Forrest shook his head.
“Does he have any political support I don’t know about?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t . . . you don’t think he’d go to the FBI?”
Knox studied his fingernails. “It’s possible, but there’s no way he can refute that evidence. We spent months creating that trail. If he forces my hand, his life is over.”
Claude didn’t share Forrest’s confidence. “Then why hasn’t he resigned?”
“Let me worry about that. After you leave here, I want you to contact Billy. Tell him I want Snake and Sonny and at least two other Eagles at Valhalla by five P.M. They can use the plane, obviously.”
“Why do you want them back?”
“Because tomorrow morning they’re going to do just what Sheriff Dennis wants them to do.”
Claude heard the Redbone gasp behind him. He took a moment to compose himself. “As an attorney, I’m not sure I’d advise that course of action.”
“It’s a good thing you’re not my attorney, then. You were Brody’s attorney, and he’s dead. I’m alive, and I intend to stay that way.”
Claude considered what Forrest was asking him to do. “Do you really think Snake will return to Louisiana and walk into the sheriff’s office of his own accord?”
“He won’t know anything about it until he talks to me. You’re going to tell Snake you’re not sure why I want him at Valhalla. If he pushes you, tell him you’re worried I’m ready to kill every mother’s son—and daughter—who poses a threat to us. You know Snake. He’ll come back for that.”
Claude nodded. “Without doubt.”
“You tell him anything else, Claude, and I’ll pickle your liver. Are we clear?”
“Absolutely, Frank.” Claude felt his face go red. “I mean Forrest. I’m sorry . . . I had a senior moment. You look so much like your father.”
Forrest grinned. “Take it easy, Claude. I take that as a compliment.”
A cell phone rang behind Claude, and he heard Ozan walk out of the office to answer it.
“Just tell me one thing,” he said to Forrest, taking advantage of the sudden privacy. “What do you hope to gain by sending Snake and the others into the lion’s den?”
“Time, of course. Meanwhile, I’m going to cut a deal to keep the people who could hurt me quiet.”
“With whom?” Claude asked. “Who has the power to keep those people quiet?”
An almost serene expression came over Forrest’s face. “Thomas Cage, M.D.”
Claude sat silently for several seconds. Then he said, “I see. Yes . . . I believe I do see. That makes me feel a little better. I suppose you’ll blame as much as you can on Brody and Regan?”
Forrest inclined his head. “You have any problem with that?”
Claude sighed. “Not as long as you keep me out of it. I may have to leave the country in any case. Brody kept too many mementos around.”
“Just like Snake and the rest. I’ve kept a couple myself, to tell the truth. But Brody seemed especially careless about it.”
“That’s actually what’s making me nervous,” Claude said quickly, glancing back at the closed door. “I think the FBI has the rifles from Brody’s basement. The special rifles. You know the ones I mean?”
“Dallas and Memphis?”
Claude nodded.
“How many people did Brody show those rifles to over the years, Claude?”
“Almost none. There was a panel over that display case whenever guests were there.”
“Exactly. Brody was like the guy who pays an art thief to steal a Rembrandt for him, knowing he can never sell it. He was content to stand in front of that case and say to himself, ‘I helped change the history of this country.’”
“That may be, but the Bureau has whatever remains of them now.”
“So what?” Forrest said, flicking his hand. “Those rifles won’t tell them anything that can hurt us. Do you think Carlos Marcello ran this state for thirty years by being stupid?”
“No. But . . .” Claude trailed off as Forrest got up and walked around behind him. He felt the younger man’s powerful hands on his shoulders, then his neck.
“I don’t like nervous men, Claude. Nervous men make bad decisions.”
“I only wanted to make sure you were aware of the rifle problem.”
Forrest clicked his tongue twice, and the pit bull growled ominously. “I’m not worried about that, Claude. But tell me this: was there anything in Brody’s house I should be worried about?”
Claude tried to look up, but with his neck in Forrest’s grip he couldn’t manage it. “Not that I know of. But in all honesty, I think we both should be ready to leave the country on short notice, just in case.”
Forrest laughed. “I’m always ready. But I’m not going anywhere. I’m about to break Griffith Mackiever into pieces even his kids won’t want to touch. Then I’m going to shut down the mess in Concordia Parish. You tell the moneymen in New Orleans to batten down the hatches for two or three days. With luck, I’ll cut a deal with Dr. Cage and there’ll be no more casualties. But if there does have to be more bloodshed, I’ve got that covered, too. No mud or blood will touch the Mardi Gras kings. Okay?”
Claude nodded as vigorously as he could.