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As D’Agosta seated himself, a door in the back of the room opened and Pendergast appeared. His wounds had been freshly dressed and his hair, still damp from being washed, had been combed back. He was dressed, most incongruously, in a white turtleneck and gray wool pants, which-different as they were from his habitual black suit-almost had the effect of a disguise.
D’Agosta rose instinctively.
Pendergast’s eyes met his, and after a moment he smiled. “I fear I neglected to express my gratitude to you for freeing me from prison.”
“You know you don’t have to do that,” said D’Agosta, coloring.
“But I will. Thank you very much, my dear Vincent.” He spoke softly, taking D’Agosta’s hand in his own and giving it a curt shake. D’Agosta felt strangely moved by this man who sometimes found even the simplest human courtesies awkward.
“Please sit down,” said Gli
He complied. Pendergast slipped into a seat opposite-a little stiffly, D’Agosta thought, yet with his usual feline grace. “And I owe an enormous debt of gratitude to you as well, Mr. Gli
Gli
“Although I deeply regret having to kill Mr. Lacarra to do so.”
“As you know,” Gli
“No amount of sophistry will change the fact it was a premeditated killing.”
“Strictly speaking, you are correct. But as you know yourself, his death was necessary to save more lives-perhaps many more lives. And our model indicated his death sentence appeals would have been denied, anyway.”
Pendergast silently inclined his head.
“Now, Mr. Pendergast, let us lay trivial ethical dilemmas aside. We have urgent business to take care of, relating to your brother. I assume no news from the outside world reached you while in solitary confinement?”
“None whatsoever.”
“Then it would be a surprise to learn that your brother destroyed all the diamonds he stole from the museum.”
D’Agosta saw Pendergast stiffen visibly.
“That’s right. Diogenes pulverized the diamonds and returned them to the museum as a sack of powder.”
After a silence, Pendergast said, “Once again, his actions were beyond my ability to predict or comprehend.”
“If it’s any consolation to you, they surprised us as well. It meant our assumptions about him were wrong. We believed that after being cheated of Lucifer’s Heart-the one diamond he most desired-your brother would go to ground for a period, lick his wounds, plot his next move. Clearly, that was not the case.”
Krasner broke in, his cheerful voice in stark contrast to Gli
“When we learned what happened to the diamonds,” Gli
“And that is?”
“The ‘perfect crime’ which Diogenes spoke of was not the theft of the diamonds. Nor was it the outrage he perpetrated on you: killing your friends and then framing you for the crimes. Whatever his original intent was we are in no position to speculate. But the fact remains that his ultimate crime has yet to be committed.”
“But the date in his letter?”
“Another lie, or at least diversion. The theft of the diamonds was part of his plan, but their destruction was apparently a more spontaneous act. That doesn’t change the fact that his series of crimes was carefully pla
“So the crime is yet to come,” Pendergast said in a dry, quiet voice. “Do you know what it is, or when it will take place?”
“No-except that all indications are that this crime is imminent. Perhaps tomorrow. Perhaps tonight. Hence the need for your immediate liberation from Herkmoor.”
Pendergast was silent a moment. “I fail to see how I can be of any help,” he said, his voice tinged with bitterness. “As you see, I’ve been wrong at every turn.”
“Agent Pendergast, you are the one person-the only person-who can help. And you know how.”
When Pendergast did not immediately respond, Gli
“That is correct,” Krasner broke in. “Your brother wants to generalize this wrong, to make it public, to force others to share his pain.”
Gli
“That is absurd,” said Pendergast.
“Something happened between you and your brother at an early age: something so dreadful it twisted his already warped mind and set in motion the events he’s playing out now. Our analysis is missing a vital piece of information: what happened between you and Diogenes. And the memory of that event is locked up there.” Gli
“We’ve been through this before,” Pendergast replied stiffly. “I’ve already told you everything of importance that has passed between my brother and myself. I even submitted to a rather curious interview with the good Dr. Krasner here-without result. There is no hidden atrocity. I would remember: I have a photographic memory.”
“Forgive my disagreeing with you, but this event happened. It must have. There’s no other explanation.”
“I’m sorry, then. Because even if you’re right, I have no recollection of any such event-and there’s clearly no way for me to recall it. You’ve already tried and failed.”
Gli
“I think there is a way,” he said without looking up.
When there was no response, Gli
“How did you come by this information?” Pendergast asked in a voice so cold D’Agosta felt his blood freeze.