Heirs of Cain (11 page)

Collins reached for his wallet, hesitated. “You’re gonna have to trust me, Moss. Just like I trusted you.”

“Trusted me?” Moss said, his interest suddenly piqued. “How’d you trust me?”

“By telling you Taylor’s code name. And mine. There aren’t ten people in the world who possess that information.”

“Well—”

“I’ve heard you’re a good man, Moss. I also heard you were pretty close to Cardinal. I’m banking on all that being true.”

“Why?” Moss asked, leaning slightly forward.

“I may need your help somewhere along the way.”

Making an outsider think he’s being brought into some secret inner circle is the greatest of all baits. Collins knew from the look in Moss’s eager eyes that the bait had been snapped up and swallowed. But offering the bait was only half of the proposition. Now came the closer—a dash of fear.

Always throw in fear.

“In my business, trust isn’t something one can assume. I have to be very careful who I give it to. When I do extend that trust, and if it’s broken, well, let’s just say bad things happen.”

Collins paused briefly, then said, “really bad things,” in a stern whisper.

Moss leaned forward like a deaf man straining to hear. When he was sure nothing more was coming, he took the bait a second time. “What kind of bad things?”

“Like what happened to Cardinal.”

Moss glanced down at Collins’s hands. “You didn’t kill Taylor, did you?”

“No. But I’ve got to find the man who did. And fast.”

“You a cop?”

“I’m no cop.”

“Private investigator?”

“It’s not important who or what I am, Moss. What is important is finding Cardinal’s killer.”

Moss put the candleholder back on the dresser. His face was set in that frown that accompanies deep thought. Finally, he looked up at Collins. “This may be the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, but I’m goin’ along with you on this. It’ll probably end up bein’ my ass.” He paused, looked around the room. “What the hell? Anyway, you stand a better chance of catchin’ Taylor’s killer than those peckerhead cops downtown.”

“Those peckerhead cops are not to know anything at all about me. That clear?”

“Right, perfectly clear.”

Collins went into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. Except for two loose Tylenol capsules on the bottom shelf, it was empty. He bent over the tub and ran his forefinger around the inside of the nozzle. He unscrewed the showerhead, raised himself up on his tiptoes, and inspected it.

“If you’ll tell me what it is you’re lookin’ for, maybe I can help you out. Save you some time,” Moss said.

“I don’t know what it is I’m looking for.”

“Then how will you know when you find it?”

Collins laughed. “Good question.”

“Want me to unpack the boxes downstairs?” Moss asked.

“No need.”

“How do you know?” Moss said, adding, “unless you’ve already checked them.”

Collins smiled.

“You fox,” Moss said. “You know, I had you figured for bein’ a sharp cookie the very second I laid eyes on you. What else have you done?”

“Let me ask the questions, Moss.”

“Fine by me. Only one thing, though.”

“What’s that?”

“Did you know three boxes of Taylor’s stuff have already been shipped? To a relative in St. Louis.”

“They’ve been checked.”

“I should have guessed.” Moss sat on the bed. “Okay, fire away with your questions.”

“For starters, I need the name of every person who came to see Cardinal during the last six weeks or so leading up to the time he was killed. Everyone. Visitors, delivery people, maintenance, anyone you can think of.”

“Wow, that’s a tall order. I don’t know if—”

“Don’t you keep records at the guard shack? A log of some sort?”

“Only after six at night. But I can plainly remember the ones who came to see him after dark.”

“Who?”

“Well, naturally, there was that dippy trio who found the body. They came here two or three times. I can’t remember exactly, but I’ll look it up for you when I get back to the shack.”

“Forget them, they’re clean. Anyone else? Think hard; it’s important.”

“Let’s see. Yeah, I remember a couple of times when Taylor ordered pizza from the Pizza Hut down on the strip. Both times it was the Hendley kid who delivered them. He’s in and out of here all the time. Early last month, Taylor’s air conditioning shut down and old Elvis Chandler had to come and work on it. Other than that, I can’t recall anyone else comin’ to see Taylor after dark. He pretty much stayed to himself. Day and night.”

“Did he ever have a visitor who was an Indian?”

“An Indian? You mean like Ghandi?” Moss asked.

“No. A Native American Indian.”

“Nah. Nobody like that came to see Taylor.”

“Who’s the one person living here who knows the most about what goes on around the island? The island gossip, so to speak.”

“That would have to be …” Moss’s eyes widened. “Hey, wait a minute. I do remember one other person coming to see Taylor at night. He came twice, in fact. How could I have forgotten him?”

“Who was he?”

“I don’t know his name, but Taylor must have known him. He called the guard shack to let me know the man was on his way and for me to let him in.”

“When was this?”

“First time … about three weeks ago. Second time … maybe four or five days later.”

“Can you remember anything about him? What he looked like? How he dressed? Anything at all?”

Moss laughed. “Sure can. He was a black dude.”

Collins’s eyes darted. “A black guy?”

“Yep. Big as a mountain, too.”

“Did you log in his name?”

“Nah. When Taylor okayed him, I didn’t bother getting a name. Sorry.”

“Anything else, Moss? Think hard.”

“Well—”

“Did he have an L-shaped scar on his left cheek?”

“Sure did. Hey, how’d you know that?”

Collins headed out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Moss followed close behind.

“Did I do something right?” Moss asked as Collins opened the front door.

“You did good, Moss. Very good. Cardinal would be proud of you.”

Moss was still beaming when Collins drove away.

“So, my boy, it looks as though you knew what you were talking about,” Lucas White said. “As usual, of course.”

Collins pressed the phone against his left ear and covered his right ear with his free hand. “Speak up, Lucas. I can barely hear you.”

“You and your damn penchant for pay phones,” Lucas said, chuckling. “The rest of the world long ago entered into the era of the cell phone. You should consider joining us.”

“Old habits are like old friends. Besides, I feel safer doing it this way.”

“You need not worry. This line is static free. You can take my word on it.” Lucas tapped the bowl of his pipe into the ashtray. “You’re convinced it was Deke?”

“Yes.”

“But Deke and Cardinal were close, weren’t they?”

“At one time, yes. But I’d say they had a falling out of sorts, wouldn’t you?”

“Looks that way.” Lucas paused to light his pipe. “Where do you figure Seneca fits into this little scenario?”

“Primary executioner.”

“And you are convinced he’s involved?” Lucas said, exhaling a puff of smoke.

“More than ever. Deke would never do something like this on his own. He never could say no to Seneca.”

“That damn Indian. What the hell could he be up to?”

“A hit, Lucas, a takeout. And whoever it is must be big. Very big. Seneca and Deke are involved, and obviously they were trying to recruit Cardinal. But Cardinal would never hitch on with those two. So he said no. When he did, his fate was sealed. They had no choice but to eliminate him.”

“I am truly sorry about Cardinal. I know you were especially fond of the man.”

That was true. Collins had always cared deeply for Cardinal. Perhaps it was because Cardinal was the oldest and most out-of-place member of that first (and best) group of recruits. Out of place because he, unlike the others, detested killing, hated it to the very fibers of his soul. Seneca thrived on the kill. Deke did it blindly, obediently. It was simply part of the job for him. The same with Snake and Moon and Rafe, the only one to die in combat. Not so with Cardinal. The taking of a human life was abhorrent to him, even in a combat situation. He did it, reluctantly, and he did it for those long-forgotten reasons of duty, honor, and patriotism. Even with that to fall back on, he seldom succeeded in convincing himself the killing was justified. Cardinal was the odd duck in that first group, the one who probably shouldn’t have been there. He was too decent, too humane. Yet, when you got right down to it, he was the one whose reasons for being there were the soundest. If, indeed, there is ever a sound reason for killing.

“You there, my boy?” Lucas finally asked.

“Yes.”

“Where do you go from here? There seems to be precious little to go on.”

“I have Taylor’s last words. ‘Fallen angels.’ You do remember that, don’t you?”

“I remember. What was the term you once used to describe it?”

“Magnificent maybe.”

“Yes, that’s it. How did you put it? Let’s see, I think you said something very poetic, like ‘Operation Fallen Angels will always go down as a great magnificent maybe.’ That may not be precisely verbatim, but it’s close.”

“Operation Fallen Angels, had it been given the green light, and had it been successful, which it would have been, would have ended the Vietnam mess three years earlier. Ended it favorably, I might add. You know I’m right, too.”

“My boy, we’ve debated this a million times. Another debate is useless. I have always said the payoff would have been great, but the risks were too high. I was never able to convince myself that it could have been done successfully. Maybe I was right, maybe not. It was a judgment call.”

“Lucas, we could have been in and out of Hanoi before anyone had a whisper of what was happening. You know that. Old man Ho and his bunch would have been history. We could have taken them out. Without them, there would have been total chaos in North Vietnam for months. No way they could have recovered.”

Lucas sighed out loud. “Perhaps. But we’ll never know.”

“No, I don’t guess we ever will.”

Lucas sensed the old fire was gone from Collins’s argument. For that he was thankful. It was a debate that had gone on long enough, a debate that had no final resolution.

“How do you go about finding Seneca?” he asked.

“By finding Deke.”

“Where do you start?”

“Chicago. Where else? Go to enough blues joints and you’ll eventually run into Deke. He can’t stay away from them.”

“Keep me posted. If you find out anything concrete, let me know about it. The same applies here. If we learn anything, I’ll get it to you pronto.”

Collins laughed.

“Why the jocularity?” Lucas asked.

“You work in military intelligence, Lucas. You guys never get anything first.”

Collins stood at his office window and looked out. The threat of rain hung over the campus like a dark blanket. Thunder rattled in the distance. Lightning creased the sky with streaks of gold.

“Pepsi, Diet Coke, orange juice, or Gatorade. What’s your choice?” He turned and opened the small refrigerator on the floor next to his desk.

“Doesn’t matter,” Kate said. “Whatever you give me will be fine.”

“You don’t get off that easily. Life is filled with tough choices. What’ll it be?”

“Diet Coke.” She took the soft drink from him. “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow.”

“So soon?” Collins shrugged.

“When were you planning on sharing this little tidbit with me?” Kate asked, a hint of sarcasm attached to every word. “Or were you just going to sneak out in the night and not say anything?”

“I’m telling you now.”

“You’re working for that Army guy, aren’t you? The one I didn’t care for?”

“Men like him work for me.”

Kate set her Diet Coke on his desk. “Could I ask you a question?”

“More questions? You should be a reporter.”

“Am I being nosy?”

“Yeah. But ask anyway.”

“That bucket of gravel behind your desk. What’s that for?”

“It’s for an exercise that strengthens my hands.”