Cemetery Dance

going into its own tiny test tube. Then, using an eyedropper, he added reagents to each tube. Only the first tube turned color.

He straightened up. 'How unusual.' Just as swiftly as the equipment had appeared, it disappeared back into the leather kit, which was folded, zipped up, and tucked back in the suit.

Pendergast smoothed and patted down his suit, and folded his hands in front. Everyone was staring at him. 'Yes?' he asked innocently.

'Mr. Pendergast,' said Hayward, 'if it isn't too much trouble, would you mind sharing with us the fruits of your labors?'

'I'm afraid I've struck out rather badly.'

'What a pity,' said Hayward.

'You're familiar with Wade Davis, the Canadian ethnobotanist, and his 1988 book, Passage of Darkness: The Ethnobiology of the Haitian Zombie?'

Hayward continued glaring at him, saying nothing, her arms crossed.

'A most interesting study,' said Pendergast, 'I recommend it highly.'

'I'll be sure to order it from Amazon,' said Hayward.

'Davis's investigation showed, in essence, that a living person can be zombified by the application of two special chemicals, usually via a wound. The first,coup de poudre, has tetrodotoxin as its primary ingredient — the same toxin found in the Japanese delicacy fugu. The second involves a datura — like dissociative. A particular combination of these substances, applied in doses approaching the LD–50, can keep a person in a state of near — death for days, yet mobile, with minimal brain function and no independent will. In short, according to theory, with certain chemical compounds you can create an actual zombii.'

'And you found these chemical compounds?' asked Hayward, in a clipped voice.

'That's the surprise. I did not — neither here, nor in independent tests I conducted while at the Ville. I must confess myself surprised — and disappointed.'

She turned away brusquely. 'Bring out the next batch of evidence. We've wasted enough time on this as it is.'

'I did find, however,' added Pendergast, 'that human blood is present on that hook.'

There was a silence.

D'Agosta grunted, turned to the evidence mummy. 'I want a DNA test on that hook, run it through the databases, test for presence of human tissue as well. In fact, I want all these instruments tested for both human and animal blood. Make sure the handles are fingerprinted — I want a record of who handled them.' He turned to Pendergast. 'Got any idea what that crazy hook is for?'

'I confess I am baffled. Monsieur Bertin?'

Bertin had been looking increasingly agitated. Now he gestured for Pendergast to step to one side. ' Mon frere,I cannot continue,' he said in a low, urgent whisper. 'I am sick, I tell you — sick! It is the work of thathungan, Charriere. His death conjure — you don't feel it at work yet?'

'I feel fine.'

Hayward looked from the two of them to D'Agosta. She shook her head.

'We must leave,' Bertin said. 'We must return home. I need the syrup — sipping syrup. 'Lean'—I know you have some! Nothing else will calm me.'

'Du calme, du calme, maitre. Very soon.' Then, turning back to the group, Pendergast said in a louder voice: 'Now if you'd please examine this hook, monsieur? '

After a moment Bertin stepped forward most unwillingly, bent warily over the item, sniffed. He was sweating copiously now and his face was sallow. His breathing sounded like the wheezing of old bagpipes in the small room. 'How very strange. I've never seen anything like this before.'

Another sniff.

'And the miniature coffin we retrieved from Fearing's crypt. Is it the work of the same sect?'

Bertin took a cautious step closer to the little coffin. Its lid was in place now: made of cream — colored paper, hand — decorated with skulls and long bones in black ink. It had been elaborately folded, origami — fashion, to fit snugly over the papier — mache coffin.

'The veve drawn on that paper lid,' said Pendergast. 'With what Loa is that identified?'

Bertin shook his head. 'This veve is quite unknown to me. I would guess this is private, secret, known only to a single Obeah sect. Whatever it is, it is very strange. I've never seen anything like it.' He stretched out his hand — pulled it back when the ancient woman clucked her desiccated tongue — then stretched it out again and picked up the lid.

'Put that down,' the woman said immediately.

Bertin turned it gently around and around in his hands, staring at it very closely and muttering to himself.

'Mr. Bertin,' Hayward said warningly.

Bertin seemed not to hear. He turned the little paper construct over in his hands, first one way then another, still quietly muttering. And then — with a sudden flick of his fingers — he tore it in two.

A grayish powder poured from beneath the folds down over Bertin's pants and shoes.

Several things happened at once. Bertin cartwheeled backward, neighing in dismay and terror, the strips of paper fluttering away. The old lady grabbed for them as she began shouting imprecations. The burly man took hold of Bertin's collar and dragged him out of the evidence room. Pendergast knelt with the speed of a striking snake, plucked a small test tube from his suit pocket, and began sweeping grains of the gray powder into it. And Hayward stood in the midst of it all, arms folded, looking at D'Agosta as if to say: I warned you. I warned you.

Chapter 43

Proctor pulled the Rolls into a deserted parking lot behind the baseball fields at the edge of Inwood Hill Park and killed the lights. As Pendergast and D'Agosta stepped out of the car, Proctor walked to the trunk, opened it, and hauled out a long canvas bag holding tools, a plastic evidence box, and a metal detector.

'You think it's okay to just leave the car?' D'Agosta asked dubiously.

'Proctor will watch it.' Pendergast took the canvas bag and handed it to D'Agosta. 'Let us not dally here, Vincent.'

'No shit.'

He slung the bag over his shoulder and they set off across the empty baseball diamonds toward the woods. He glanced at his watch: two am. What was he doing? He had just promised Hayward he wouldn't let Pendergast drag him into any more sketchy activity — and now here he was, in the middle of the night, on a body — snatching expedition in a public park without permit or warrant. Hayward's phrase rang in his head: The way he goes about gathering evidence, I doubt Pendergast could ever convict his perps in a court of law. Maybe it's no coincidence they end up dead before trial.

'Remind me again why we're sneaking around like grave robbers?' he asked.

'Because we are grave robbers.'

At least, D'Agosta thought, Bertin wasn't along. He'd dropped out at the last minute, complaining of palpitations. The little man was all in a panic because Charriere had managed to get a few of his hairs. It seemed unlikely the high priest got any ofhis hairs, at least, D'Agosta thought with grim satisfaction: one advantage to going bald. He thought of the little scene that had played out in the evidence annex and frowned.

'What the hell was your pal Bertin demanding?' he asked. 'Sipping syrup?'

'It's a cocktail he prefers when he gets, ah, overly excited.'

'A cocktail?'