Lincoln Child - Cemetery Dance

"But why kill Kidd?" D'Agosta asked.

"She had played her role to perfection — she'd outlived her usefulness. Time to give her the hook. Easier to kill her than pay her, and it's always prudent to get rid of one's accomplices. A lesson Fearing should have taken to heart. Do you recall how Kidd shouted out Smithback's name before she was killed? I would surmise Esteban had told her that Fearing, disguised as the dead Smithback, was going to kill someone else at that ceremony. Her role — her last scene — was to cry out Smithback's name in mock terror — to immediately establish in everyone's minds who he was, to help drive home the illusion. Only she got more than she bargained for."

"And then Esteban had Fearing kill Wartek as soon as the man started eviction proceedings against the Ville," said D'Agosta.

Pendergast nodded.

"And he kidnapped Nora, once again framing the Ville for the crime."

"Yes. The pressure against the Ville had to be ratcheted up to the breaking point. Esteban wasn't going to wait for a lengthy eviction proceeding. His pacing was perfect, just like the great director he was. When he released the video of Nora that everyone assumed was shot in the basement of the Ville, the third act was almost upon us. That's when he knew it was time to strike."

"So Esteban himself murdered Fearing?" asked Hayward.

"I believe so. Esteban no doubt wanted to remove his second accomplice the same way he'd removed the first. Dumping his body near the Ville had the added advantage of framing them for the murder."

"One thing I don't get," said D'Agosta. "That first march on the Ville — Esteban whipped up the crowd, then defused them again. Why? Why didn't he simply go in?"

Pendergast didn't answer for a moment. "I found that puzzling at first. Then I considered that there weren't enough of them to succeed. It was premature. He had one shot at getting into the Ville and robbing the tomb. He needed a riot — a big one, not a brief disturbance, to get in unseen, seize his prize, and retreat. The first was merely a rehearsal. That's why Esteban didn't lead the second, major demonstration. He egged it on and then pretended to bow out. He was down there, Vincent, even while we were. It was only chance that we didn't cross paths. By the time that creature attacked us, he was already gone."

Hayward frowned. "What was that creature, anyway?"

"A man. At least, it had once been a man. The ritual transformed it into something else."

"What ritual?" D'Agosta asked.

"Do you recall those strange implements we saw on the Ville's altar? The tools with the bone handles and a long, twisting metal point with a tiny blade at one end? They served the same function as an old medical instrument known as a leucotome."

"A leucotome?" D'Agosta repeated.

"The device used in performing a lobotomy — in this case, a transorbital lobotomy, done by entering the brain from the eye socket. The members of the Ville learned long ago that destroying a specific portion of the brain, in a region called Broca's area, rendered the unfortunate victim impervious to pain, free of moral or ethical constraints, extremely violent, and yet submissive to its minders. Something less than human but more than animal."

"And you're saying the Ville did this to someone intentionally? "

"Absolutely. The victim was chosen by the cult to be a sacrifice for the community, but he was also revered and worshipped for making that sacrifice. It may even have been an honor, vied for by many. That man — thing was, in fact, a central part of their religious ritual: his creation, his nurturing, his training, his feeding, and his release were all part of the ritual cycle. He served to protect the community from a hostile world, and they in turn fed him, kept him, revered him. In some societies, certain individuals are given leave to perform actions that are normally considered wrong. Perhaps the Ville lobotomized the man as a way of protecting his soul, allowing him to murder, to kill, to defend the Ville without incurring the stain of sin on his soul."

"But how could an operation turn a person into that kind of monster?" Hayward asked.

"The operation isn't difficult. Many years ago, a physician named Walter Freeman could perform what became known as ice — pick lobotomies in just a few minutes. Stick it in, a quick back — and — forth motion, and the offending part of the brain is destroyed. Along with half the person's personality, his soul, his sense of self. The Ville just took it a step farther."

"Those old murders Wren uncovered?" D'Agosta said. "Perhaps they were caused by similar zombiis." "Exactly: the creation of a living zombii that, through murder and fear, convinced Isidor Straus not to proceed with clear — cutting Inwood Hill Park. It seems that the Straus groundskeeper himself became a convert to the Ville cult — and then was honored by elevation to sacred status, and became that zombii."

Hayward shuddered. "How horrible."

"Indeed. The irony is almost palpable: Esteban had Fearing act like a zombii to convince the public he was a creation of the Ville. Yet the Ville was, in a manner of speaking, creating zombiis — though for rather different purposes than Esteban apprehended. By the way, what's happened to the Ville?"

"It seems they'll stay where they are, for the time being. They promised no more animal sacrifices."

"And, let us hope, no more zombiis. I wouldn't be surprised to learn that, in the future, rather than being the malevolent presence we assumed, Bossong becomes something of a rehabilitating influence on the Ville. I sensed a tension between him and the high priest."

"It was Bossong who killed the zombii," D'Agosta said. "At the end, when it was at the point of killing us."

"Indeed? That is reassuring: such a heroic action is not, shall we say, the sort of thing a true believer would do — kill the vessel of one's own gods." Pendergast glanced at Hayward. "By the way, Captain, I've been meaning to tell you how sorry I was to hear you'd been passed over for the mayor's task force."

"Don't be." Hayward brushed back her black hair. "I think I'm actually better off for losing the opportunity — the latest word is that task force is going to become just the bureaucratic nightmare everyone swore it would never be. And that reminds me: remember our friend Kline, the software developer? Looks like he's going to be sorry he strong — armed the commissioner. I just heard the FBI was wiretapping Rocker's phone in a sting operation and got the whole blackmail conversation on tape. Both are going down — hard. Kline is finished."

"A pity. Rocker wasn't a bad man."

Hayward nodded. "He did it for good motives — the Dyson Fund. A tragedy, in a way. But one side effect is I'm leaving the commissioner's office, getting my job as homicide captain back."

A silence settled in the room.

D'Agosta spoke all in a rush. "Listen, Pendergast, I just wanted to apologize for my goddamn stupidity back there — for dragging you into the Ville, for getting you shot, for almost losing Nora. I've done some idiotic things, but this took the cake."

"My dear Vincent," murmured Pendergast, "if we hadn't gone into the Ville, I never would have found the looted tomb, I never would have seen the name Esteban… and where would we be now? Nora would be dead and Esteban the new Donald Trump. So you see, your 'stupidity' was crucial in solving this case."

D'Agosta didn't quite know how to respond to this. "And now, if you don't mind, Vincent, I shall rest."

As they exited the hospital room, D'Agosta turned to Hayward. "What's this about deep background checks on everyone involved with the case?"

Hayward looked uncharacteristically embarrassed. "I couldn't just stand there and watch Pendergast pull you in over your head. So… I started looking into the case myself. Just a little."