Body of Lies

by Iris Johansen

  "What happened to Dufour?"

  "He won't bother us anymore."

  I was a killing machine. I could be again.

  Eve shivered, and her glance shifted to Hebert. "And what will we do about him?"

  "Let him rot." Joe grimaced. "Okay, I know. I'm an insensitive bastard about the dear departed. We'll tell the police in Houma where we left him."

  "Not yet."

  "No? That's a surprise."

  "The Cabal doesn't know that he's dead and we're alive. It may buy us time before they send anyone else after us."

  "Did he tell you anything about what was happening in Boca Raton?"

  "Not much." Yet Hebert had said something ... Surely there was some fragment of sense in his words that she could examine. "Maybe. He said something about a tiger and us not being able to stop it. That it had all been planned down to the last gasp." She rubbed her temple. "I don't know. I can't think."

  Joe studied her. "I don't like the way you're shaking."

  "I'm just cold."

  "Chilled and shocked and wet to the bone. October is no time to take a mud bath."

  "You did."

  "Yeah, but I don't have a sensitive nerve in my body."

  "That's bullshit."

  "You really aren't feeling yourself if you're giving me credit for tender feelings. I've got to get you back to the hotel and a hot shower." Joe's paddle cut into the water. "Don't move a muscle."

  Easy to say. It seemed that every muscle in Eve's body was trembling with cold and fatigue. She should try to think, but her mind was just as dulled as her body.

  Fight it. There wasn't much time. Try to think what Hebert had said.

  Tiger. Something about a tiger and his last gasp. That meant death, a killing. Why couldn't she remember?

  She had to remember, or Hebert's death would mean nothing. He would still win and the killing would go on.

  There wasn't much time.

  -------------------

  Joe turned on the shower and pushed Eve naked under the warm spray. Another moment and he was in the shower with her, soaping her hair with shampoo. "I can do it. Take care of yourself."

  "Shut up." He soaped her body from shoulders to feet and then pushed her to the front of the shower to rinse off. "Just stand there and let the water warm you while I get some of the dirt off me."

  "No time. Have to think. Someone's going to die, Joe."

  "I know. You told me in the boat coming here. Several times."

  "Did I? I hate death. I hate it."

  "I know you do."

  "I don't understand killers like Hebert. He didn't care about the death of anyone, except for his brother. It didn't matter to him about other people who have fathers or brothers or little girls..."

  "Shh. Are you warmer now?"

  "He was going to kill Jane and my mother. Two wonderful lives just snuffed—"

  "Are you warmer?"

  He had asked that before. She thought about it. The shaking was gone and so was that icy lethargy. "Yes."

  "Good." He was out of the shower and reaching for a towel. "Then let's get you dry and into bed."

  "I can—"

  "Hush."

  "You know, I didn't really believe in the Cabal before I heard Hebert talking about it. It wasn't real to me. I believe in it now. They're the ones who pointed Hebert at Jane and my mother and told him to kill them. Someone has to stop them. So much evil..."

  "Yes."

  "Jennings said it was right there before him, but he didn't see it. What didn't he see, Joe?"

  "We'll figure it out later." He wrapped her in a dry towel and gently pushed her toward the bedroom. "Climb in bed while I dry off."

  "If it was right there before him, then it was right there before us, too."

  "The only thing right before you is that bed."

  "I can't go to sleep. I have to put it together."

  "You're not going to put anything together until you get some rest." He took her arm and drew her toward the bed. "Come on. I'll hold you and keep you warm, and you can think your little heart out." He slipped into bed, pulled her down beside him, and cuddled her close. "Better?"

  Better? Warmth and safety against death's cold inevitability. "Don't let me go to sleep."

  "No guarantees. You're on your own. The only promise you'll get from me is that I'll always be beside you to wake you in the morning."

  Wonderful promise, beautiful promise...

  Bittersweet promise.

  "You're stiffening against me," he said. "Don't do it. Take this moment, Eve. I want to give it to you."

  And she wanted to take it. She relaxed against him.

  "That's it."

  "This isn't a good idea."

  "Shh." He stroked her hair. "Never argue with Swamp Thing."

  God, she was actually smiling. Or was she crying? Maybe it was a little of both. "I wouldn't dream of it. If Swamp Thing will just shut up so I can try to think."

  "That can be arranged." He kissed her temple. "Close your eyes; it will help you to concentrate."

  He just wanted her to go to sleep.

  She was very much afraid he was going to get his wish. Her lids were too heavy to stay open....

  No, fight it. Go over everything Nathan and Jennings had told them. Clear her mind and remember everything she'd learned from Hebert in those last moments before Joe had killed him.

  And keep her damn eyes open.

  Houma

  3:35 a.m. October 27

  It was right there before me. There's nothing you can do about the old tiger. It's been timed down to the last gasp. Royal weddings ... The Olympics....

  "Oh, my God." Eve jerked upright in bed. "It's a funeral, Joe."

  "What?" Joe rose up on one elbow. "What are you talking about?"

  "It is a meeting of the Cabal at Boca Raton. But they had to have a reason. No Olympics, no wedding. It's a funeral. There's going to be a funeral so important in Boca Raton that it would validate the presence of dignitaries from all over the world."

  Joe nodded slowly. "It's possible."

  "Why else would the Cabal send their number-one assassin to Boca?" She felt sick. "Christ, I wonder how many important people have been killed to provide the Cabal a reason to meet."

  "Wait a minute. We're not sure you're right."

  "We're not sure I'm wrong." Eve swung her feet to the floor. "But Hebert talked as if his target wasn't dead yet. He said I couldn't stop it, but that means he's still alive. Maybe we can find a way to save him."

  "Providing we can find out who he is."

  "He's well known enough to attract worldwide notice." She was thinking quickly. "Probably not an entertainer or movie star. He lives in Boca Raton and has plans to be buried there. Otherwise the meeting would have been planned for somewhere else." She reached for her telephone. "What's Nathan's cell number?"

  Joe reached in his pocket and brought out his phone book. "You're right, Nathan's a newspaperman. He should be able to track the target down."

  "And he's in Boca right now." She was rapidly dialing Nathan's number. "Which is where we need to be. Will you call and get us reservations out of New Orleans while I talk to Nathan?"

  Chapter Nineteen

  "Christ." Nathan was silent for a moment after Eve had finished speaking. "It's got to be Franklin Copeland."

  Shock rippled through Eve. "What?"

  "I'm surprised you didn't guess. It's been all over the newspapers and television for the past couple days. The Old Tiger is a sick man."

  "We haven't been paying any attention to the news."

  "I can see how you've been a little busy."

  "Old Tiger," she repeated. "That's what Hebert called him."

  "That was Copeland's nickname when he was a colonel in Vietnam before he became president. War hero, ex-President of the United States, and for the last fifteen years, he's been known for his work with UNESCO. I'd say he'd warrant a pretty impressive guest list for his funeral."

  "Is he su
pposed to be buried in Boca?"

  "I don't know. I can find out." Silence. "Jesus, I met Copeland once when he was lecturing in New Orleans. I liked him. He's one hell of a guy."

  Eve had never met him, but she'd liked what she'd known of him, too. He had seemed a warm, intelligent man with no delusions of grandeur.

  "We're talking as if he's dead already," Nathan said. "What the hell can we do to save him?"

  "What's he suffering from?" She inhaled sharply. "Anthrax?"

  "No."

  It had been her first thought, connecting Copeland's illness to the anthrax scare in Boca Raton a year or two ago.

  "Then what is it?"

  "Nothing suspicious. He has heart problems aggravated by severe asthma. The asthma seemed to be pretty well under control for the past couple years, but he's had several attacks in the past few weeks. He's been in and out of the hospital three times—the last bout of asthma triggered a heart attack."

  "Asthma ... What could trigger an attack? Some kind of poison?"

  "Beats me. But the Secret Service should be able to find out, once they know what's happening. You're on your way down here?"

  "As soon as we can get a plane. Find us a place to stay outside the city. We have to keep a low profile. We don't want anyone to know Hebert's dead."

  "That's smart. Then you'll want me to go to Copeland's Secret Service team right away and tell them what we know."

  "Right."

  "I'm on it. Maybe they can save the old guy. Let me know what flight you're on and I'll meet you at the airport."

  "God, I hope it's not too late." She hung up and turned to Joe. "Franklin Copeland."

  He gave a low whistle. "It would fit. Not only famous, but loved by the masses."

  "And they're killing him just for an excuse to have a goddamn meeting." She could feel the tears sting her eyes. "I wish they'd all burn in hell."

  "It must be a pretty important meeting," he said thoughtfully. "Etienne told Nathan they never meet in person unless something critical is in the balance. I'd be interested in knowing what's on their agenda."

  "So would I. We'll find out." She swallowed to ease the tightness of her throat. "But it's Copeland who's important right now. What time can we get out of New Orleans?"

  "First flight is ten A.M. to Fort Lauderdale. It's about a forty-minute drive to Boca. There's nothing direct."

  She started for the bathroom. "Then let's get out of here."

  -------------------

  Nathan was waiting for them at the gate. She didn't have to hear his first sentence. It was all there in his face.

  "Sorry. Copeland died two hours ago." Disappointment flooded her. She had been hoping against hope that they could save him. She felt the tears sting her eyes. "I really hoped—"

  "Let's get out of here." Joe took her arm and guided her down the corridor. "What about the Secret Service? You got through to them?"

  Nathan nodded. "For all the good it did me. It took me time I didn't have to convince them they had to take me seriously. They thought I was just some wild-ass reporter trying to drum up a story. Then they called Rusk at the FBI to verify there was an ongoing investigation about the Cabal."

  "Did it help?"

  He shook his head. "Rusk was killed in an automobile accident yesterday afternoon on his way home from the office."

  She stiffened in shock. "What?"

  "Hit-and-run as he was crossing the street to go to the supermarket."

  Another death. No, another murder. Christ, would it never stop? "The Cabal."

  "That's my guess. First Jennings, and then Rusk. They're plugging all the possible leaks."

  "They didn't catch who did it?"

  Nathan shook his head. "A witness said the car was an old beat-up Buick. The driver was possibly of Hispanic descent."

  "But the Secret Service had to be suspicious that Rusk had been killed so conveniently."

  "His death could have been unrelated. No one in Rusk's office knew anything about Copeland or anything that was going on down here."

  Evidence gets misplaced ... agents have "accidents."

  Hebert's words came back to her with chilling impact.

  "So they wouldn't listen to you," she said dully.

  "I didn't say that. When they decided there was a small possibility the threat to Copeland could be genuine, they started to move. But it was too late. Copeland was already dead." He made a face. "I'm feeling guilty as hell I didn't get them to move faster."

  "I don't know if we could have done any better," Eve said. "There's not even any proof Copeland was the target. Is there going to be an autopsy?"

  Nathan nodded. "I hope so. I believe I convinced Copeland's Secret Service agent Wilson to do it. But any investigation will be done very discreetly. They don't want either his family or his high-powered friends to be on the attack if they find my story is bullshit. They want Copeland's death to be as dignified as his life."

  "So the funeral will go on."

  Nathan nodded. "So it seems."

  "And the Cabal has what it wants."

  "At least the Secret Service knows that they may be meeting here." Nathan opened the passenger door of a gray Chevrolet rental car. "That could lead to something."

  "Except they don't know who they're looking for." Eve got into the car. "And if they don't find any evidence Copeland was murdered, it may stop right there."

  "But we know one member of the Cabal who will be here," Joe said. "Melton."

  Eve shook her head. "If he even comes. Hebert said he was scared shitless that he'd be targeted by Thomas Simmons. Melton suspected that the deaths of three Cabal members from his state weren't the accidents they appeared. Melton thought he'd be next."

  "A meeting of the Cabal probably doesn't happen that often, and it seems to be a pretty big deal," Joe said. "I imagine Melton would have to have cast-iron proof there was a threat to his life to be excused from coming."

  "That's what I thought." Nathan backed out of the parking space. "So we still have a ball game. We trail Melton until we find out where they're meeting, and then have the FBI close in."

  Eve shook her head. "What good would that do? These are important people, leading citizens of their countries. How can we prove they're doing anything illegal? Do you think the FBI is going to take any action? It's our word against theirs."

  Nathan's lips tightened. "I'm not going to let it go. I've been cooling my heels down here, searching for the Cabal, searching for Simmons, and now I have a lead. Okay, we may not be able to call in the big guns. But we can shine a bright light on their damn secret society. We can get names and faces."

  "And maybe something more concrete," Joe said thoughtfully. "Long-range listening devices. Videos. Photographs."

  "Their security has got to be fairly ironclad," Eve said. "It will be difficult to get that close."

  "Their top man, Hebert, isn't on the scene. That may give us a little opening."

  "I doubt it. They wouldn't rely exclusively on Hebert. And they're going to be suspicious when they can't contact him. It might make them be even more careful."

  Nathan looked at Eve. "Are you saying you want to bow out?"

  "No way. I'm just telling it the way I see it. We may not get everything we want, but I'll take whatever we can get."

  Nathan smiled. "And, like Quinn said, it may be more than we think. I may get my Pulitzer after all."

  -------------------

  The small, white beach house to which Nathan took them was a few miles outside the city. "This is the best I could do in the short time I had. I handled the rental over the phone with a broker."

  "It will be fine." Eve got out of the car. "As long as it's private."

  "I'll just take a look around the grounds. Be with you in a minute." Joe strode around the house and down to the shore.

  "The key should be under the palm tree in a lock-box...." Nathan found the box, pressed the combination, and unlocked the front door. "You go inside. I'll see if I can do anyt
hing to help Quinn check out the area."

  "He doesn't need help."

  "I'll do it anyway. I'm feeling responsible, since Galen isn't underfoot." He added fervently, "Thank God."

  Eve wearily shook her head as she closed the door. All this concern for her safety, and yet no one had been able to keep that poor old man safe. Not even his Secret Service guards. How had Hebert managed to kill him?

  She crossed the room and turned on the TV set to CNN.

  Franklin Copeland's face appeared on the screen. They were running an obituary segment and she sank down on the couch to watch it. His wife, Lily, was still alive, and they showed her at the hospital when Copeland had suffered a heart attack a few weeks ago. She was a thin, elegant woman in her seventies; the bond between husband and wife was clear. Toward the end of the obituary they listed Copeland's many accomplishments and works for charity. It was an impressive list. She hadn't been aware that he was involved with Habitat for Humanity. She hadn't paid much attention to the details of the man's life.

  But she'd damn well pay attention to his death.

  Nathan and Joe came into the house a few minutes later. Joe dropped down on the couch beside Eve. "Anything?"

  "The funeral is going to be at St. Catherine's Cathedral day after tomorrow."

  "October twenty-ninth," Joe said.

  "Right on schedule." She nodded at a TV shot of Kim Basinger getting on a plane in Los Angeles. "She traveled to Africa with Copeland for UNESCO. She's on her way to the funeral."

  "I doubt if she's one of the Cabal," Nathan said dryly.

  "Before her they showed James Tarrant, the British media mogul, hurrying from a meeting in London to the airport. He was quoted as saying the world had lost a great man, and he was going to pay homage."

  "Touching," Joe said.

  Nathan nodded. "It's going to be hard to separate the gold from the dross. But Melton may be the key." He turned to leave. "I'm going to the local newspaper office to see if I can find out when Melton is due to show up on the scene. I'll let you know as soon as I do."

  "And we need some photos of Thomas Simmons. Can you get them for us?"

  "Ah, the shadow man."

  It was an apt description, Eve thought. Simmons had been lurking in the darkness all along, overshadowed by Hebert's looming menace. "That 'shadow man' tried to kill me, and evidently has killed at least three Cabal members. I want to be able to recognize him."