found too, and send a message to the authorities.' Paul Clement, thought Longarm. That son of a bitch.
'Yeah, like we sent a message with that other badge-toting snooper? It was bad enough that all of his corpse didn't get eaten, but then you had to go and leave that voodoo doll on his boss's doorstep. I don't like messing with that voodoo shit, and besides, it just stirred up the law that much more.'
'I believed it would confuse the issue enough to throw off any investigation into Ramsey's death,' Clement replied coldly. 'I did what I thought was best, Jasper--and you should remember whose idea our arrangement was in the first place.'
'Yeah, yeah,' replied Millard in a surly tone. 'You're a damn genius, all right.'
'I've made us a great deal of money so far. The other plantation owners on Saint Laurent and the neighboring islands are quite happy to meet our price for the workforce we provide.'
Their squabbling had confirmed all of Longarm's speculations and answered all the questions that had brought him to New Orleans. The knowledge wasn't going to do him a hell of a lot of good, though, unless he could somehow get away from his captors and find some help.
While Millard and Clement were talking, Annie had been stroking Longarm's face and huddling against him in fear. He was aware now that he was soaking wet and lying on a hard floor. Probably no more than half an hour had passed since the runaway cab had plunged into the river; based on that fact, the high ceiling, the shadows that filled the big room, and the likely proximity to the riverfront, he figured they were in a warehouse. Millard probably owned at least one such building, so that he could store the goods he smuggled into New Orleans until he had a chance to dispose of them.
A warehouse would be a good place to hold prisoners who were destined to be shipped out to the West Indies and a life of slavery on the sugar plantations too. Longarm wondered if there were any such captives here now, or if he and Annie were the only prisoners.
There was only one way to find out. His hands weren't tied, he realized, so he got them under him and pushed himself into a sitting position.
'Don't try anything, Marshal,' warned Clement. 'You are a United States marshal, I take it.'
'Custis Long,' admitted Longarm. 'I'd show you my badge and bona fides, but I left 'em back in Denver.'
'Ah, they sent in a man all the way from Colorado, just so that no one here would recognize you. Quite a plan.' Clement's tone was mocking.
'Yeah, and it worked too,' said Longarm dryly. 'All you bastards are under arrest.'
Clement laughed, but Millard just glowered at Longarm. The two partners in crime were standing about a dozen feet away. They were flanked by four gunmen, no doubt some of the assassins who had been sent after Longarm and Annie at the hotel. The men had their weapons drawn and ready, so even though Longarm's hands and feet were not tied, there was no way he could make a move against Clement and Millard.
The warehouse was perhaps half full of crates of various shapes and sizes. There was probably all kinds of contraband hidden here, thought Longarm. He wondered if there was anything around he could use for a weapon. Faint light filtered in through small, filthy windows that were set high in the walls just under the ceiling. A couple of kerosene lanterns that had been placed on crates also provided illumination.
To stall for time, and to satisfy his own curiosity, Longarm asked, 'Why did your men pull us out of the river instead of letting us drown? From the looks of things, you wanted us both dead anyway, so you could've let the Mississippi take care of it for you.'
'I was nearby, keeping an eye on things,' replied Clement, 'and when I saw that cab go into the water, I put in an appearance and ordered the men to rescue you and Annie. Then we brought you here because I have an even more appropriate fate in mind for you both.'
'Yeah, I heard,' grunted Longarm. 'You plan on feeding me to the gators. Is that what you're going to do to Your own sister?' Beside him, Annie grew even paler, and her hands tightened on his arm.
'Of course not,' said Clement with a shake of his head. 'Jasper here got worried when he found you snooping in his office, so he decided that the best thing to do would be to get rid of you, even though you might have been telling the truth about wanting one of those Cuban cigars. I concurred. We can't afford to take any chances of our operation being discovered by the law. Then poor Annie realized that we were trying to have you killed after that donnybrook at the Mardi Gras parade, and she became quite upset. I had to take stern measures to calm her down.'
'You raped me!' Annie hissed at him. 'The same way you've been raping me for years, ever since I was fourteen years old! How could you? I'm your sister, you... you...' Hatred and horror made words fail her.
Smiling, Clement slid one of the Cuban cigars from his vest pocket and sniffed it appreciatively. 'Hardly,' he said. 'You were never told about it, my dear, but our parents merely adopted you when you were only an infant. You're not a blood relation at all, so I saw no reason not to avail myself of your charms.' His fingers tightened on the cigar as venom began to drip from his words. 'As a matter of fact, you're an octoroon, darling Annie. You have nigger blood flowing in your veins.' Clement controlled himself with a visible effort, stuck the cigar in his mouth, and said around it, 'So I've decided to send you to one of the other islands so that you can work in the fields with the other niggers.'
'You... you...' Again, Annie could not find the words to convey her loathing of the man she had considered her brother.
'Son of a bitch?' suggested Longarm. 'Low-down rabid skunk? No, I reckon that'd be an insult to the skunk.'
Clement shook his head and said, 'Go ahead and have your fun, Marshal. You're going to be dead very soon anyway.'
'Yeah,' put in Millard. 'And you were a piss-poor right-hand man. Sure, you helped out a little those times Royale tried to get at me, but I could've just as easily been killed.'
'What about Royale?' asked Longarm, again trying to postpone his impending death. 'What's his part in all of this?'
'Just what I already told you,' said Millard. 'He runs another smuggling ring, and he wants to put me out of business.'
