Dance Of Death

but she was very lucid. And what she had to say surprised the hell out of me. She's absolutely insistent that you weren't her attacker, and her description fits the other description we have of your brother quite well. Problem is, it was your blood at the crime scene and on the weapon Green defended herself with, along with fiber, hair, and other physical evidence. So we've got a major evidence conundrum on our hands.'

'You certainly do.'

'Our interviews with Viola Maskelene corroborate your story about Diogenes, at least what I understand of it. She's insistent it was he who did the kidnapping, not you. She says he basically confessed to the killings and showed her one of the stolen diamonds from the Astor Hall. No proof, of course, just her word, but she helped lead us to the safe house where she was held. We found quite a setup there, including some pretty conclusive evidence linking Diogenes to the Astor Hall theft-evidence he clearly didn't intend to give up.'

'Interesting.'

'We almost caught someone in the tunnels who Lieutenant D'Agosta swears was Diogenes. The gemologist, Kaplan, backs this up, as does Maskelene. Their preliminary stories are all consistent, and we know it couldn't have been you. We've asked our British counterparts to open an investigation into Diogenes's death in England, but that'll take time. Anyway, the evidence does seem to indicate your brother may be alive, after all. We have three people who certainly believe it.'

Pendergast nodded. 'And what do you believe, Captain?'

Hayward hesitated. 'That the case merits further investigation. Trouble is, the FBI are moving full speed ahead bringing capital charges on the murder of a federal agent, and it seems they could care less at present about any inconsistencies in the other three. Or rather, two, since the Green killing wasn't a killing, after all. Which makes my continued investigation of those other homicides somewhat moot.'

Pendergast nodded. 'I see your problem.'

Hayward peered at him curiously. 'I was just wondering-do you have anything to say about the matter to me?'

'That I have faith in your abilities as a police officer to find the truth.'

'Nothing more?'

'That's a great deal, Captain.'

She paused. 'Help me, Pendergast.'

'The person to help you is Lieutenant D'Agosta. He knows all there is to know about the case, and you could do no better than use his expertise.'

'You know that's impossible. Lieutenant D'Agosta's on modified duty. He can't help anyone at the moment.'

'Nothing is impossible. You just need to learn how to bend the rules.'

Hayward sighed irritatedly.

'I have a question for you,' Pendergast said. 'Does Agent Coffey know about the reappearance of Margo Green?'

'No, but I doubt he'd care much. As I said, they're one hundred percent focused on Decker.'

'Good. I would ask you to keep that information quiet as long as possible. I believe Margo Green is safe from Diogenes, at least in the short term. My brother has gone to ground and will be licking his wounds for a while, but when he emerges, he will be more dangerous than ever. I ask that you keep a protective eye over Dr. Green during the rest of her convalescence. The same goes for William Smithback and his wife, Nora. And yourself. You're all potential targets, I'm afraid.'

Hayward gave a shudder. What had seemed like an insane fantasy just two days ago now was beginning to look chillingly real.

'I'll do that,' she said.

'Thank you.'

Another silence settled over the cell. After a moment, Hayward roused herself.

'Well, I'd better be going. I really just came as an escort for someone else who wants to see you.'

'Captain?' Pendergast said. 'A final word.'

She turned to face him again. He stood there, pale in the artificial light, his cool gaze resting upon her.

'Please don't be too hard on Vincent.'

Despite herself, Hayward looked away quickly.

'What he did, he did at my request. The reason he told you so little, the reason he moved out-those actions were to keep you safe from my brother. In order to help me, to protect lives, he made a grave professional sacrifice-I hope and pray the sacrifice won't be a personal one, as well.'

Hayward did not reply.

'That's all. Good-bye, Captain.'

Hayward found her voice. 'Good-bye, Agent Pendergast.'

Then, still without making eye contact, she turned away once more and rapped on the safety glass of the observation port.

Pendergast watched the door close behind Hayward. He stood motionless, in the ill-fitting orange jumpsuit, listening. He heard a few muffled voices outside the padded door, and then focused on the light but determined stride of Hayward as she made for the ward'sexit. He heard the security locks disengage, heard the heavy door boom open. It remained so for almost thirty seconds before closing and locking again.

Still, Pendergast listened, even more intently. Because now another, different set of footsteps was sounding in the corridor outside: slower, tentative. They were growing closer. As he listened, his frame tensed. A moment later, there was a rude banging on his door again.

'Visitor!'

Then Viola Maskelene appeared in the doorway.

She had a scratch over one eye, and beneath her Mediterranean tan she seemed pale, but otherwise she appeared unhurt.

Pendergast found he could not move. He simply stood and looked at her.

She stepped forward, stopped awkwardly in the middle of the room. The door closed behind her.

Still, Pendergast did not move.

Viola's eyes fell from his face to his prison garb.

'I wish, for your sake, that you'd never met me,' he said almost coldly.

'What about for your sake?'

He looked at her a long time, and then said, more quietly: 'I'll never regret meeting you. But as long as you have feelings for me- if that is indeed the case-then you'll be in grave danger. You must go away and never see or think of me again.'

He paused, then cast his eyes to the floor. 'I'm deeply, deeply sorry for everything.'

There was a long silence.

'Is that it?' Viola finally asked in a low voice. 'We'll never know, never have the chance to find out?'

'Never. Diogenes is still out there. If he thinks there's any connection remaining between us, anything at all, he'll kill you. You must leave immediately, go back to Capraia, get on with your life, tell everyone-including your own heart-how utterly indifferent you are to me.'

'And what about you?'

'I'll know you're alive. That's enough.'

She took a fierce step forward. 'I don't want to 'get on' with my life. Not anymore.' She hesitated, then raised her arms and rested her hands on his shoulders. 'Not after meeting you.'

Pendergast remained as still as a statue.

'You must leave me behind,' he said quietly. 'Diogenes will be back. And I won't be able to protect you.'

'He… said terrible things to me,' she said, her voice faltering. 'It's been thirty-six hours since I walked out of that railroad tunnel, and in all those hours I haven't been able to think of anything else. I've led a stupid, wasted, loveless life. And now you're telling me to walk away from the only thing that means anything to me.'

Pendergast put his arms gently around her waist, looked searchingly into her eyes.

'Diogenes makes it a game to find out a person's deepest fears. Then he strikes a deadly, well-aimed blow. He's driven people to suicide that way. But his words are hollow. Don't let those words stalk you. To know Diogenes is to walk in darkness. You must walk out of that darkness, Viola. Back into the light. And that also means