The Pelican Brief

“When did you last talk to him?”

“Sunday night.”

“And where was he?”

“In his room at the Hilton.”

Voyles breathed deeply, and looked at the ceiling. “And you discussed with him the meeting on Monday?”

“Yes.”

“Had you met him before?”

“No.”

“The man who killed him was the same man you were holding hands with when he lost his brains.”

She was afraid to ask. Gray did it for her. “Who was that?”

“The great Khamel.”

She choked and covered her eyes, and tried to say something. But it wouldn’t work.

“This is rather confusing,” Gray said, straining to be rational.

“Rather, yes. The man who killed Khamel is a contract operative hired independently by the CIA. He was on the scene when Callahan was killed, and I think he made contact with Darby.”

“Rupert,” she said quietly.

“That’s not his real name, of course, but Rupert’ll do. He’s probably got twenty names. If it’s who I think it is, he’s a British chap who’s very reliable.”

“Do you have any idea how confusing this is?” she asked.

“I can imagine.”

“Why was Rupert in New Orleans? Why was he following her?” Gray asked.

“It’s a very long story, and I don’t know all of it. I try to keep my distance from the CIA, believe me. I have enough to worry about. It goes back to Mattiece. A few years ago, he needed some money to move along his grand scheme. So he sold a piece of it to the Libyan government. I’m not sure if it was legal, but enter the CIA. Evidently they watched Mattiece and the Libyans with a great deal of interest, and when the litigation sprang up, the CIA monitored it. I don’t think they suspected Mattiece in the Supreme Court killings, but Bob Gminski was handed a copy of your little brief just a few hours after we delivered a copy to the White House. Fletcher Coal gave it to him. I have no idea who Gminski told of the brief, but the wrong words hit the wrong ears, and twenty-four hours later, Mr. Callahan is dead. And you, my dear, were very lucky.”

“Then why don’t I feel lucky?” she said.

“That doesn’t explain Rupert,” Gray said.

“I don’t know this for a fact, but I suspect Gminski immediately sent Rupert to follow Darby. I think the brief initially scared Gminski more than the rest of us. He probably sent Rupert to trail her, in part to watch, and in part to protect. Then the car exploded, and suddenly Mr. Mattiece just confirmed the brief. Why else would you kill Callahan and Darby? I have reason to believe there were dozens of CIA people in New Orleans hours after the car exploded.”

“But why?” Gray asked.

“The brief had been legitimized, and Mattiece was killing people. Most of his business is in New Orleans. And I think the CIA was very concerned about Darby. Lucky for her. They came through when it counted.”

“If the CIA moved so fast, why didn’t you?” she asked.

“Fair question. We didn’t think that much of the brief, and we didn’t know half as much as the CIA. I swear, it seemed like such a long shot, and we had a dozen other suspects. We underestimated it. Plain and simple. Plus, the President asked us to back off, and it was easy to do because I’d never heard of Mattiece. Had no reason to. Then my friend Gavin got himself killed, and I sent in the troops.”

“Why would Coal give the brief to Gminski?” Gray asked.

“It scared him. And, truthfully, that’s one reason we sent it over. Gminski is, well, he’s Gminski, and he sometimes does things his way without regard for little obstacles like laws and such. Coal wanted the brief checked out, and he figured Gminski would do it quickly and quietly.”

“So Gminski didn’t level with Coal.”

“He hates Coal, which is perfectly understandable. Gminski dealt with the President, and, no, he didn’t level with him. It all happened so fast. Remember, Gminski, Coal, the President, and I first saw the brief just two weeks ago today. Gminski was probably waiting to tell the President some of the story, but just hadn’t got the chance.”

Darby pushed her chair away, and walked back to the window. It was dark now, and the traffic was still slow and heavy. It was nice to have these mysteries revealed to her, but they created more mysteries. She just wanted to leave. She was tired of ru

Gray watched her carefully. “She was followed to New York, then here,” he said to Voyles. “Who is it?”

“Are you positive?” Voyles asked.

“They were on the street all day watching the building,” Darby said, nodding to the window.

“We’ve watched them,” Gray said. “They’re out there.”

Voyles seemed skeptical. “Have you seen them before?” he asked Darby.

“One of them. He watched Thomas’ memorial service in New Orleans. He chased me through the French Quarter. He almost found me in Manhattan, and I saw him chatting with another fella about five hours ago. I know it’s him.”

“Who is it?” Gray asked Voyles again.

“I don’t think CIA would chase you.”

“Oh, he chased me.”

“Do you see them now?”

“No. They disappeared two hours ago. But they’re out there.”

Voyles stood and stretched his thick arms. He walked slowly around the table, unwrapping a cigar. “Mind if I smoke?”

“Yes, I mind,” she said without looking at him. He laid it on the table.

“We can help,” he said.

“I don’t want your help,” she said to the window.

“What do you want?”

“I want to leave the country, but when I do, I want to make damned sure no one follows. Not you, not them, not Rupert nor any of his pals.”

“You’ll have to come back and testify before the grand jury.”

“Only if they can find me. I’m going to a place where subpoenas are frowned upon.”

“What about the trial? You’ll be needed at trial.”

“That’s at least a year from now. I’ll think about it then.”

Voyles placed the cigar in his mouth, but did not light it. He paced and analyzed better with one between his teeth. “I’ll make you a deal.”

“I’m not in the mood for deals.” She was leaning against the wall now, looking at him and looking at Gray.

“It’s a good one. I’ve got planes and helicopters and plenty of men who carry guns and are not the least bit afraid of those boys out there playing hide-and-seek. First, we’ll get you out of the building, and no one will know it. Second, we’ll put you on my plane and fly you anywhere you want. Third, you can disappear from there. You have my word we will not follow. But, and fourth, you allow me to contact you through Mr. Grantham here if, and only if, it becomes urgently necessary.”

She was looking at Gray as the offer was made, and it was obvious he liked the deal. She kept a poker face, but, damn, it sounded good. If she had trusted Gavin after the first phone call, he would be alive and she would never have held hands with Khamel. If she’d simply left New Orleans with him when he suggested, he would not have been murdered. She’d thought about this every five minutes for the past seven days.

This thing was bigger than she was. There comes a time when you give up and start trusting people. She didn’t like this man, but for the past ten minutes he had been remarkably honest with her.

“Is it your plane and your pilots?”

“Yes.”

“Where is it?”

“Andrews.”

“Let’s do it like this. I get on the plane, and it’s headed for Denver. And no one is on it but me, Gray, and the pilots. And thirty minutes after we take off, I instruct the pilot to go to, let’s say, Chicago. Can he do that?”