Fever Dream

"Knowing you, Aloysius, I don't suppose I need ask if you're sure about this," he said, very quietly.

"No, you don't."

Esterhazy's whole demeanor changed, his face becoming pale, his hands clenching and unclenching. "What are you--are we--going to do about it?"

"I--with Vincent's help--will find the person or persons ultimately responsible. And we will see that justice is served."

Esterhazy looked Pendergast in the face. "I want to be there. I want to be there when the man who murdered my little sister pays for what he did."

Pendergast did not answer.

The anger, the power of the man's emotions, were so intense they almost frightened D'Agosta. Esterhazy sank back in his chair, his dark eyes restless and glittering. "How did you find this out?"

Briefly, Pendergast sketched out the events of the last few days. Although shaken, Esterhazy nevertheless listened intently. When Pendergast finished, he rose and poured himself a fresh drink.

"I believed..." Pendergast paused. "I believe I knew Helen extremely well. And yet--for someone to have killed her, and taken such extraordinary pains and expense to disguise her death as an accident--it's clear there must be a part of her life I knew nothing about. Since we spent most of her last two years on earth together, I have to believe that, whatever it was, it lay farther back in her past. This is where I need your help."

Esterhazy passed a hand across his broad forehead, nodded.

"Do you have any idea, any, of a person who might have had a motive to kill her? Enemies? Professional rivals? Old lovers?"

Esterhazy was silent, his jaw working. "Helen was... wonderful. Kind. Charming. She had no enemies. Everyone loved her at MIT, and in her graduate work she was always scrupulous in sharing credit."

Pendergast nodded. "What about after her graduation? Any rivals at Doctors With Wings? Anyone passed over for a promotion in favor of her?"

"DWW didn't operate like that. Everyone worked together. No egos. She was much appreciated there." He swallowed painfully. "Even loved."

Pendergast sat back in his chair. "In the months before her death, she took several short trips. Research, she told me, but she was vague about the details. In retrospect it seems a little odd--Doctors With Wings was more about education and treatment than it was about research. I now wish I had pressed her for more information. You're a doctor--do you know what she might have been up to, if anything?"

Esterhazy paused to think. Then he shook his head. "Sorry, Aloysius. She told me nothing. She loved traveling to faraway places--as you know. And she was fascinated by medical research. Those twin loves were what led her to DWW in the first place."

"What about your family history?" D'Agosta asked. "Any instances of familial conflict, childhood grievances, that sort of thing?"

"Everybody loved Helen," Esterhazy said. "I used to be a little jealous of her popularity. And, no, there have been no family problems to speak of. Both our parents died more than fifteen years ago. I'm the only Esterhazy left." He hesitated.

"Yes?" Pendergast leaned forward.

"Well, I'm sure there's nothing to it, but long before she met you she had... an unhappy love affair. With a real bounder."

"Go on."

"It was her first year in graduate school, seems to me. She brought the fellow down from MIT for the weekend. Blond, clean-cut, blue eyes, tall and athletic, always seemed to go about in te

"Why was it unhappy?"

"Turned out he had some kind of sexual problem. Helen was vague about it, some kind of perverse behavior or cruelty in that area."

"And?"

"She dumped him. He a

"And the name?"

Esterhazy clutched his forehead in his hands. "Adam... First name was Adam. For the life of me I can't remember his last name--if I ever knew it."

A long silence. "Anything else?"

Esterhazy shook his head. "It seems inconceivable to me anyone would want to hurt Helen."

There was a brief silence. Then Pendergast nodded to a framed print on one of the walls: a faded picture of a snowy owl sitting in a tree at night. "That's an Audubon, isn't it?"

"Yes. A reproduction, I'm afraid." Esterhazy glanced at it. "Odd you should mention it."

"Why?"

"It used to hang in Helen's bedroom when we were children. She told me how, when she was sick, she would stare at it for hours on end. She was fascinated by Audubon. But of course you know all that," he concluded briskly. "I kept it because it reminded me of her."

D'Agosta noticed something very close to a look of surprise on the FBI agent's face, quickly concealed.

There was a brief silence before Pendergast spoke again. "Is there anything you can add about Helen's life in the years immediately before we met?"

"She was very busy with her work. There was also a period where she was heavily into rock climbing. Spent almost every weekend in the Gunks."

"The Gunks?"

"The Shawangunk Mountains. She was living in New York then, for a time. She did a lot of traveling. Part of it was for Doctors With Wings, of course--Burundi, India, Ethiopia. But part of it was just for adventure. I still remember bumping into her one afternoon, it must have been--oh, fifteen, sixteen years ago. She was packing frantically, on her way to New Madrid, of all places."

"New Madrid?" Pendergast said.

"New Madrid, Missouri. She wouldn't tell me why she was going--said I'd just laugh. She could be a very private person in her own way. You must know that better than anyone, Aloysius."

D'Agosta stole another private glance at Pendergast. That would make two, he thought. He could not imagine anyone more private, more reluctant to share his thoughts, than Pendergast.

"I wish I could help you more. If I recall the last name of that old boyfriend, I'll let you know."

Pendergast stood up. "Thank you, Judson. It's most kind of you to see us like this. And I'm sorry you had to learn the truth this way. I'm afraid there--well, there simply wasn't time for me to break it in a gentler fashion."

"I understand."

The doctor saw them through the hallway and into the front passage. "Wait," he began, then hesitated, front door half open. For a moment the mask of stoic anger dropped, and D'Agosta saw the handsome face disfigured by a mixture of emotions--what? Raw fury? Anguish? Devastation? "You heard what I said earlier. I want to--I have to..."

"Judson," Pendergast said quickly, taking his hand. "You need to let me handle this. I understand the grief and rage you feel, but you need to let me handle this."

Judson frowned, gave his head a brief, savage shake.

"I know you," Pendergast went on, his voice gentle but firm. "I must warn you--don't take the law into your own hands. Please."

Esterhazy took a deep breath, then another, not replying. At last Pendergast gave a slight nod and stepped out into the evening.