Feraud could see right through him, that the man had an ability to wear his skin, to see what he was thinking, to know what he was feeling right in that very moment. Antoine Feraud and Ernesto Perez were perhaps more like brothers than he and Danny had ever been.
‘So you have come with your ironic name to find out what I know,’ Feraud said.
Hartmann frowned and shook his head.
‘Hartmann,’ Feraud said. ‘Hart-man… your name. You have come down here to find our heart man.’ Feraud laughed at his own play on words. Ray Hartmann felt ready to puke.
‘And what makes you think I know any more than what I have already told Mr Verlaine?’
Hartmann took his heart in his hands. ‘Because we have spoken with Mr Perez… Ernesto Perez. You remember him, Mr Feraud?’
Feraud smiled. ‘Perhaps, perhaps not. I am a very old man. I have met a very great many people throughout my life and I cannot be expected to recall every single one.’
‘But this one I think you do remember, Mr Feraud… because he came down here many years ago and did some things for you and Charles Ducane that it would be difficult to forget.’
Feraud nodded. He seemed to be acknowledging the fact that what Hartmann was saying was true.
‘And what is it that you think I can tell you?’ Feraud asked.
‘Why he’s come back,’ Hartmann said. ‘Why he’s done this… kidnapped Charles Ducane’s daughter, what he has done with her.’
Feraud shook his head. ‘What he has done with her I do not know. Why he has done this? That is an altogether simpler question.’
‘And the answer?’ Hartmann asked.
‘The answer you will have to get from Mr Perez.’
‘Mr Perez is taking a great deal of time arriving at that answer, Mr Feraud, and I am not sure we have that much time.’
Feraud smiled. ‘I am sure that if Mr Perez is anything close to the man you think he is he knows exactly what he is doing and how it will transpire. Perhaps Mr Perez has already killed the girl… perhaps he has already sunk her body into the everglades and he is just biding his time, seeing how long he can keep you people interested before he tells you what he’s done. I understand that he has killed someone else already, a man found in the trunk of a car some days ago.’
Hartmann nodded. ‘Yes, that’s right… well, as far as we can gather Perez was the one who killed this man.’
‘Don’t underestimate him, Mr Hartmann. That is all I am able and willing to tell you. You have a dangerous man here in New Orleans, and I am sure that if his reputation is anything to go by he is capable of an awful lot more than just the killing of one man.’
‘And you are not willing to help us?’ Hartmann asked.
Feraud waved Hartmann’s question aside as if it was of no significance at all. ‘And for what reason? What reason on God’s green earth could I have for wanting to help you and your Federal people?’
‘Because he might have come down here to seek an audience with you also?’ Hartmann asked.
Feraud laughed. ‘This man of yours, he would not get within a hundred yards of me.’
‘Anyone can be killed, Mr Feraud… anyone at all, even the president of the United States can be killed if the killer is willing to stake everything on such a venture.’
‘I am sure, Mr Hartmann, that if your Mr Perez had it in his mind to kill me he would have made his attempt before turning himself over to you. I understand that you have him safe and secure in the city, that he is guarded at all times by a significant number of federal agents. First of all he would have to find his way out of there, and then he would have to come through my people to reach me. The likelihood of Mr Perez accomplishing such a thing is a matter for dreams, not for reality.’
‘So you are not willing to divulge any further information, Mr Feraud?’
‘Divulge any further information, Mr Hartmann? You speak as if you believe I know more than I am telling you.’
‘I am convinced of it.’
‘Be convinced,’ Feraud said. ‘Be as convinced as you like. They are your thoughts and you are more than welcome to them… now, if you don’t mind, I am very tired. I am an old man, I know nothing more of this man Perez, and even if I did I can imagine that you would be the very last people on the earth I would want to share such information with.’
‘And what about Ducane himself?’ Hartmann asked.
Feraud turned and looked at him. He blinked slowly, like a lizard, and he pinned Hartmann to the spot with an unerring gaze. ‘What about Charles Ducane?’
‘Your involvement with him,’ Hartmann said matter-of-factly. ‘The fact that you and he have known each other for a great many years, that you have transacted certain business arrangements… that certain favors have been granted.’
‘You assume a great deal, Mr Hartmann,’ Feraud said.
‘I assume nothing, Mr Feraud. I merely make reference to certain things that have been forthcoming in my conversations with Mr Perez.’
‘And you believe everything he is telling you?’
Hartmann nodded. ‘I believe something unless it is challenged or proven wrong.’
‘That is a very trusting attitude, Mr Hartmann… and an attitude that will accomplish little but your own downfall if you apply it to Ernesto Perez.’
‘And Charles Ducane?’
Feraud shook his head. ‘I have nothing further to say.’
‘You think I should apply my trusting attitude to him, Mr Feraud? You know him, have known him for all these years… you’re probably more qualified to make a judgement on Charles Ducane’s trustworthiness and honesty than anyone else, right?’
Feraud smiled and nodded his head. He raised his right hand and pressed his index finger against his lips.
‘We made a deal,’ Verlaine said suddenly. ‘We made a deal that I would take care of this thing you asked of me, something that jeopardizes my job, and you would speak with us.’
Feraud lowered his finger from his lips. His smile rapidly vanished. ‘What are we doing right now, Mr Verlaine? We are speaking, are we not? I said I would speak with you, and as always I have kept my word to the letter. Now again, if you don’t mind, I would like to rest.’
Thunder rolled outwards above the house. Somewhere to Hartmann’s right he heard the sound of footsteps, and when he turned he saw the Creole standing there waiting for them to leave.
‘I will not forget that you have failed to keep your word, Mr Feraud,’ Verlaine said.
Feraud looked at Verlaine, his eyes cold and hard and unforgiving. ‘Be careful, Mr Verlaine… be careful or I might choose not to forget you.’
Hartmann felt the skin crawl up his back and tighten at the base of his neck. His hands were sweating, his whole body was sweating, and he wanted nothing more than to leave the house, to make it safely to the car, to drive back to the city and never once look over his shoulder.
They walked back the way they had come, the Creole ahead of them, and once they were again on the veranda Verlaine’s gun was returned.
Neither of them said a word as they walked to the car, and only when they had finally reached the sliproad that ran to the freeway did Verlaine say something.
‘Never again,’ he said, and his voice was almost a whisper.
Hartmann opened the passenger door and climbed inside.
Verlaine started the engine and pulled away.
‘Guy scares the living fucking Jesus outta me,’ Verlaine said. His voice was hoarse. It cracked mid-sentence and Hartmann noticed how tightly he was holding the steering wheel. His knuckles were white and stretched.
‘Not a man I would like to upset,’ Hartmann said.
‘That’s the problem,’ Verlaine replied. ‘I think I just did.’
‘He won’t do anything,’ Hartmann said. ‘A warning is not the same as a threat.’
