The Face of Deception (10 page)

It might.
You bastard. I dont like smear campaigns. And I dont like being used, Logan.
Understandable. Now, if youre through venting your displeasure, will you listen to me for a moment? He leaned forward in his chair. Eight months ago I got a call from a man named Bernard Donnelli, a mortician who owns a small funeral home outside Baltimore. He asked me to meet him. He told me just enough to intrigue me, so I flew to Baltimore the next day. He was scared and met me in a parking garage at five in the morning. He shrugged. No imagination. He must have thought he was Deep Throat or something. Anyway, he was more greedy than he was scared and offered to sell me information. He paused. And an object that he thought I might find valuable. A skull.
Only a skull?
The rest of the body was cremated by Donnellis father. It seems that the Donnelli Funeral Home has been used for decades by the Mafia and Cosa Nostra to dispose of bodies. The Donnellis be-came known to the mob as being very discreet and reliable. However, one particular disposal made Donnelli Senior very uneasy. Two men appeared one night at Donnellis home with a mans body and, though the money they paid him was extraor-dinary, he was uneasy. They werent his regular cus-tomers and couldnt be counted on to play by the rules. They tried to keep him from seeing the corpses face, but he caught one glimpse and it was enough to scare him shitless. He was afraid theyd come back and cut his throat to eliminate him as a witness. So he rescued the skull and hid it away to use as a weapon and an insurance policy.
Rescued it?
Not many people know that it takes a tempera-ture of twenty-five hundred degrees and a burning time of at least eighteen hours to completely destroy a skeleton. Donnelli managed to position the body so that the skull would partially avoid the flames. When the two men left after forty-five minutes, Donnelli retrieved the skull and burned the rest. Donnelli used the skull as a tool for blackmail, and before he died he told his son, Bernard, where hed buried the skull. A rather macabre legacy but profitable, very profitable.
Donnelli died?
Oh, he wasnt murdered. He was an old man and had a bad heart.
And who was he blackmailing?
Logan shrugged. I dont know. Donnelli Junior wouldnt tell me. The deal was for the skull.
And youre saying you didnt press him?
Why would I tell you that? Of course, I tried to get it out of him. All hed tell me was what Ive told you. He wasnt as gutsy as his father and he didnt like living on the edge. He offered me the location of the skull and the story in exchange for enough money to set him up in Italy with a new face and identity papers.
And you took the deal?
I took it. Ive paid more for prospects with less potential.
And now you want me to bring that potential to fruition.
If what Donnelli told me was the truth.
It isnt. The entire story is crazy.
Then why not go along with me? Whats the harm? If its not true, then youll come out with your pocket full of my money and Ill come out with egg on my face. He smiled. Both prospects should bring you extreme pleasure.
Its a waste of my time.
Youre being well paid to waste it.
And if theres any truth at all to the story, its not smart for me to go around digging up
But you said there wasnt any truth to it.
Its too wild to think its Kennedy, but it could be Jimmy Hoffa or some Mafia goon.
Providing I havent paid through the nose for a fairy tale.
Which youve probably done.
Then come with me and well find out. He paused. Unless you think you couldnt do the job with an unprejudiced mind. Theres no way I want you putting Jimmy Hoffas face on this skull.
You know damn well Im too good to do that. Dont try to manipulate me, Logan.
Why not? Im good at it. We all do what were good at. Arent you even a little bit curious to find out if Donnellis telling the truth?
No, its just another wild-goose chase.
Not so wild if they tried to scare you off. Or per-haps youd rather forgive and forget what happened to your lab?
Manipulation again. Strike where it hurts. She turned away. Im not forgetting anything, but Im not sure I believe
Ill double the contribution to the Adam Fund.
She slowly turned back to him. Dammit, youre paying too much for too little. Even if its true, it all happened a long time ago. What if nobody cares that the Democrats did a massive cover-up?
What if they do? The climate is right. The public is sick to death of being manipulated by politicians.
Just what are you up to, Logan?
I thought you had me figured out. Im just your run-of-the-mill low-life tycoon trying to stack the deck.
She wasnt close to figuring him out and there was no way she would accept one word he had spoken as truth.
Will you think about it?
No.
Yes, you will. You cant help yourself. Give me your decision in the morning.
And what if I say no?
Why do you think I bought a property with a cemetery?
She stiffened.
Just joking. He smiled. Ill send you home, of course.
She started for the door.
And I wont ask for the Adam Fund money back. Even if you dont complete your part of the bargain. Which makes me appear a good deal more honorable than you, doesnt it?
I told you I wouldnt do anything illegal.
Im not trying to involve you in anything really illegal. No raid on Arlington or digging up a grave-yard. Just a brief visit to a cornfield in Maryland.
Which is probably still illegal.
But if Im right, our little transgression will come out smelling like the proverbial rose. He shrugged. Think. Sleep on it. Youre a reasonable woman and I think youll agree that Im not asking you to do anything that would betray your code of ethics.
If youre telling me the truth.
He nodded. If Im telling you the truth. Ive no intention of trying to convince you that I am. I know it wouldnt do any good. Youll have to make up your own mind. He opened the top desk drawer and pulled out a leather address book. Good night. Let me know your decision as soon as you make it.
She was dismissed, she realized. No persuasion. No protestations. The ball was in her court.
Or was it?
Good night. She left the library and swiftly climbed up the stairs to her bedroom.
Kennedy.
Impossible. Kennedy was lying at Arlington, not in some hole in a Maryland cornfield. Logan had been suckered into paying for nothing.
But Logan was anything but a sucker. If he thought there was any truth to Donnellis story, that might be enough reason for her to look deeper into it.

And to give credence to any plan Logan might have for a smear campaign. He could be lying, dig-ging desperately for a way to get what he wanted.

She had made a deal with him and he had kept his end of it.

Oh, what the hell. She was too tired to make a de-cision now. She would go to bed and hope she would see things more clearly in the morning. It would be the sensible thing to

The window.

She stiffened and inhaled sharply. Imagination. She wouldnt let herself be tricked by her own mind. She was tired and discouraged and prey to her own imagination. She wouldnt let herself be

The window.

She moved slowly across the room to the window and stood looking out into the darkness.

Darkness. Mosquitoes. Bugs. Snakes.

His Italian designer loafers were being ruined by the damp, rotting foliage on the trail, Fiske real-ized with annoyance.

He had never liked the woods. He remembered one time when he was a kid, hed been sent to some fucking camp in Maine and been forced to stay there for two weeks. His parents were always sending him somewhere to get rid of him.

Bastards.

But hed fixed them. Hed made sure the camp would never accept him back after that summer. They hadnt been able to prove anything, but the counselor had known. Oh, yes, he had known. It had shown in the pricks scared face, the way his eyes slid away from him.

That summer had taught him a few lessons hed been able to apply to his chosen vocation. Camping nuts almost always needed reservations for a camping site at a national park, and each reservation was tidily documented by the forest rangers.

There was a glimmer of fire up ahead.

Target.

Approach directly or wait until they were asleep?

Adrenaline was starting to pump through him.

Direct approach. Let them see him, feel it coming.

He ruffled his hair and smeared a streak of dirt on his cheek.

The gray-haired old man was sitting staring into the fire. His wife came out of their tent, and she laughed and said something to him. There was an air of intimacy and affection between them that Fiske found vaguely annoying. But then, he found every-thing about this kill annoying. He didnt like being forced into practicing his skills in the middle of the wilds, and he would make sure the old man and woman realized it.

He paused, drew a deep breath, then burst into the clearing. Thank God. Can you help me? My wife is hurt. We were setting up camp down the road and she fell and broke

I know where theyre camped, Gil said. Im on my way. But Im two hours behind. The ranger said there was another inquiry earlier this evening.

Logans hand tightened on the receiver. Be careful.

Am I stupid? Of course Ill be careful. Particu-larly if its Fiske.

Fiske?

I called my contact in the Treasury Department and the word is that Timwicks been known to use Al-bert Fiske on occasion. Fiske was a hit man for the CIA and a damn good one. He always wanted the toughest jobs, the most prestigious hits. He takes in-ordinate pride in his efficiency and ability to do jobs no one else can do. In the last five years hes severed his ties with the Company and struck out on his own, and hes done very well. He moves fast, knows the system well enough to make it work for him. He paused. And he likes it, Logan. He really likes it.

Shit.

Ill call you back when I find them.

Logan slowly replaced the receiver.

He moves fast.

How fast?

And in what direction?

The house phone on the desk buzzed.

Ms. Duncan left the house three minutes ago, Mark said.

Is she heading for the front gate?

No, shes going up the hill.

Ill be right there.

Logan came into the carriage house a few min-utes later.

Shes at the graveyard, Mark said.

Logan walked over to the bank of monitors. Whats she doing?

Its dark and shes in the shadow of that tree. Shes not doing anything as far as I can tell. Just standing there.

Standing just outside a graveyard in the middle of the night.

Zero in closer.

Mark made an adjustment on the control board and Eves face was suddenly on the screen before him.

It told him nothing. She was looking at the flower-covered graves, her face totally without ex-pression. What had he expected? Strain? Torment?

Pretty weird, huh? Mark asked. What a nutcase.

Damn you, shes not a nut He broke off, as surprised as Mark at the sudden burst of fury. Sorry, but shes not crazy. Shes just carrying around a lot of baggage.

Okay, okay, Mark said. I just thought it was all kind of weird. I wouldnt be trekking up to a grave-yard at night. I guess she He suddenly started to laugh. Shit. Youre right, shes normal as hell.

Eve was looking up into the trees, and the middle finger of her right hand was lifted in an obscene gesture.

Shes giving us the bird. Mark was still chuck-ling. I think I like her, John.

Logan found himself smiling. He liked her too, dammit. He liked her strength and intelligence and resilience. Even her stubbornness and unpre-dictability intrigued him. In other circumstances he would have liked having her for a friendhellip; or even a lover.

Lover. He hadnt realized he was regarding her in a sexual light until that moment. She was attractive, but hed been more aware of her mind and person-ality than her tall, graceful body.

Yeah, sure. Who was he kidding? Hell, sex was al-ways important and, if he was honest with himself, Eves very breakability aroused him.

Which made him pretty much of a scumbag.

So forget it. Concentrate on what was important, the reason hed brought her there.

And why the hell she was still in that damn graveyard.

The warm wind stirred the carnations on the graves and carried the faintest scent to where Eve was standing outside the fence.

She had told Margaret she wasnt a ghoul who hung around graveyards, so why was she there? Why hadnt she gone to bed as shed intended instead of obeying the crazy impulse that had brought her there?

And it was impulse.

To believe something had called her there was insane, and she was not insane. She had fought that fight after Fraser had been executed and she had to be very careful not to let herself go down the path toward madness. It would be so easy. Dreaming of Bonnie at night was permissible, but she mustnt imagine Bonnie was there when she was wide awake.

Besides, Bonnie couldnt be here. She had never been in this place.

Logan had talked of death and graves and her mind had done the rest. No one had called her.

It was only an impulse.

She wasnt surprised to see Logan waiting for her when she entered the house an hour later.

Im tired. I dont want to talk, Logan. She walked past him and started up the stairs.

He smiled. I gathered that from your extremely rude gesture.

You shouldnt have been watching me. I dont like being spied on.

A graveyard isnt the most pleasant place for a stroll. Why there?