Dark Chant In A Crimson Key

of his abilities. He's a criminal, yes, and a killer, yes, but Mongo's description of him as a kind of ultimate vigilante may also fit. What he does may not be legal, but there does seem to be a concern for justice-'

'That's nonsense,' Garth interrupted. 'You and I may have had our differences, my friend, but I've never accused you of being silly. That's what I'm hearing now. Where's the justice in trying to kill Mongo?'

If Veil was offended by Garth's words or tone, he didn't show it. 'But I don't think Sinclair is trying to kill Mongo, my friend,' he replied evenly. 'Obviously, neither does Gerard Patreaux.' Veil paused, turned to me. 'Did Patreaux tell you the Torture Island story right away?'

I shook my head. 'End of the evening-virtually as I was on my way out the door.'

Veil grunted, turned his attention back to Garth. 'Patreaux was sizing your brother up, trying to determine if Mongo might be Sinclair's enemy. When he was satisfied that Mongo wasn't, he told him that story as a way of indicating that Sinclair wasn't Mongo's enemy either.' He paused, looked at Harper. When he continued, his voice was lower, more intense. 'You accuse me of sounding like a fan. Okay. But I am telling you that Maria Gonzalez, Feather, would unhesitatingly lay down her life for this man. I suspect Gerard Patreaux might do the same. The man commands loyalty from decent people who have had dealings with him, Harper. If I'm right, Sinclair may have a whole global network of secret friends and allies, good people who know him as a just man, and who are willing to help him keep his secrets. Some of these friends may be in positions of power and influence. I think Sinclair may even have passed on information to some of these people when it would do some good. That's how he'd come to know Harry Gray and Gerard Patreaux in the first place: he'd been feeding them information on various human rights violations.'

'Veil,' I said, placing my hand on my friend's arm, looking into his piercing blue eyes, 'I have to ask you something. Are you one of those friends? If this network of friends and allies does exist, are you a part of it?'

He seemed taken aback by the question. He looked at me oddly for a moment or two, then replied simply, 'No. I've never met the man.'

Harper asked, 'Would you tell us if you had? Would you tell us if you were a part of his network?'

'You'll have to decide that for yourself, Harper,' Veil replied evenly.

Garth, who had been studying Veil carefully, abruptly announced: 'He's telling the truth.'

I looked at my brother, nodded. Over time, I had become a reluctant believer in his uncanny 'nose for evil.' His poisoning with a mysterious substance called nitrophenyldienal, combined with some particularly horrific experiences we'd shared while tracking a madman who had, in effect, declared genetic warfare on humanity, had subtly altered not only his personality but also his perceptions and sensibilities. He had become a highly receptive empath, virtually a human lie detector. If I'd followed his lead in refusing to have anything to do with Emmet P. Neuberger, I wouldn't be sitting in a restaurant in Zurich trying to figure out how to avoid being killed. If Garth said Veil was telling the truth, that was good enough for me. But then, I would have believed Veil in any case; he might withhold information, or refuse to speak about something, but I didn't think he would lie to me.

I said, 'Let's get back to the role of the village idiot in these proceedings. We know I was set up, but we don't know why. So let's look at what we know now, or are pretty certain of. First, I think we can safely assume that Emmet P. Neuberger is a big-time crook, if only by association, because his family foundation was set up, from day one, as a very large money-laundering operation. We know it was begun by Neuberger's grandfather, but not whether he did it for himself, out of his own greed, or on behalf of secret backers who may have been pulling his strings. My hunch is that John Sinclair found out that Cornucopia was crooked during the course of some other con job he was pulling; he not only found out that large amounts of money were being laundered and skimmed from Cornucopia, but he discovered the basic mechanism for doing it. He then proceeded to do a little skimming himself, ten million dollars' worth. Does that seem like a plausible theory?'

Garth, Veil, and Harper exchanged glances with one another, and all three nodded their heads.

'It'll do until something better comes along,' Garth said. 'But now it gets tricky. With all the publicity surrounding Sinclair's theft of the ten million and the killing of the Interpol inspector, Neuberger had to have been aware that there was an extreme risk that Cornucopia's money-laundering function was going to be exposed; even if Interpol and the Zurich police didn't stumble on the truth, Sinclair might leak the information. Now, you would think that absolutely the last thing in the world Neuberger would want would be to have a crack private investigator joining Interpol and the police in poking around over here. There's no better investigator in the world than baby brother here, and yet Neuberger moans and groans and goes through all sorts of emotional contortions in order to manipulate baby brother into coming over here to join the parade. Why increase his risk of exposure? What's the point of the exercise?'

I said, 'He never expected me to have time to learn anything. I was sent over here by Neuberger as an expendable stalking horse, a Judas goat to flush out his enemies, and then be disposed of later. The man who approached me outside the hotel had a chance to say something just before he got blown away; he was very upset, and he wanted to know why I hadn't shown up for some meeting. Also, there had been a message, supposedly from Sinclair, left for me at the desk, but that was all part of the setup, to make sure I was neutralized in the unlikely event that I had already learned things I wasn't supposed to know and was thinking of sharing the information with the authorities.'

'Why were you supposed to be at this meeting?' Garth asked. 'What were you supposed to contribute?'

'I don't know. The man never had a chance to say. However, since I'd come here at Neuberger's behest, I think it's safe to assume I was supposed to be bringing something from him. Maybe a message.'

'Or money,' Harper said easily. She was resting her elbows on the table, cupping her chin in her hands, and staring at me. I very much liked the look in her eyes, and found myself very much looking forward to the end of this particular meeting, when Harper and I could repair to more private quarters.

'Okay, I like that. The man thought I was a courier carrying money. At the meeting I was supposed to hand over the money to him and his partners in exchange for. . uh. .'

'Try to pay attention, brother,' Garth said drily. 'Your attention seems to be wandering, despite your dire circumstances, and I can't imagine why. Give him the answer, Harper.'

'Incriminating documents proving Cornucopia was a crooked operation. Neuberger was being blackmailed with documents Sinclair stole.'

'Thank you, my dear,' I said, stroking the back of her hand. 'I'm not sure that's as self-evident as you make it sound, but it will certainly suffice until a better answer comes along. Now the big question: Why me? Neuberger could have used anyone as a phony courier, but he did everything but beg on his knees in order to get me to go. What's so special about poor, hapless Robert Frederickson?'

There was silence around the table for almost a minute, and then Garth spoke. 'You're easy to spot. Neuberger told his blackmailers he was sending a dwarf with their money. How many dwarfs would be landing at the airport that day?'

'No,' Harper said with an air of certainty. 'Robby wasn't approached at the airport by anyone but his chauffeur. Robby's being a dwarf had nothing to do with it; clothes, a hat, a pink carnation in the lapel, virtually anything could have served to identify a courier. Neuberger was planning to have them all killed after Robby flushed them out and then steal the documents back. But he had to be as certain as possible that the blackmailers wouldn't hold anything back as insurance against a double cross; he had to try to make certain they would have all the documents with them when they went to this meeting, where they could be double- crossed and killed. For them to be so trusting as to show up with all the documents, they would have had to have absolute trust in a courier who would keep his word, and wouldn't be a part of any double cross. Robby fit the bill.'

Again there was a prolonged silence, and then Veil grunted his approval. 'Not too trashy, Ms. Rhys-Whitney. It could very well be that it was Mongo's vaunted reputation as a straight arrow that got him into this mess. Do I take it we're all assuming it wasn't Sinclair doing the blackmailing?'

Garth nodded. 'Hell, he didn't need to. He'd already picked up ten million with his original scam; if he'd wanted more, he could have taken it when he transferred Cornucopia's money in the first place. But if not Sinclair, then who?'

'Somebody else who got hold of the documents,' Harper said, but her tone had grown more tentative. 'But how could that happen? If Sinclair did steal documents along with the money, it was for a reason, even if we don't know what that reason was- since we agree it probably wasn't to blackmail Neuberger. It doesn't seem likely that he'd lose them, or that somebody could steal them from him.'

'Damn,' I said softly as an answer came to me with sudden, perfect clarity. 'Sinclair did take documents along