Greg Iles - The Devils Punchbowl

Jiao toys with what’s left of the muffin on her plate. “At first I thought violent sport was something that came along with male strength. They admired in others what they aspired to in themselves.”

She slides the envelope off the picture and stares clinically at her lover fucking another woman. “I saw much dogfighting in Macao. My uncle lives for it. He and his friends. Breeding the dogs, training them—most of all fighting them. But what I learned watching those men was this: They prized the dogs that would fight to the death, beyond all hope of survival. The ones too weak to do that, they killed. In the end, though, all the dogs died.” Jiao looks earnestly into Caitlin’s eyes. “They prized some dogs, you see, but they

loved

none of them.”

This insight silences Caitlin for a while. “Is Sands like that?”

Jiao ignores the question, her gaze still on the photograph. “They see us the same way,” she whispers.

“How do you mean?”

The girl’s eyes rise to Caitlin’s. “You’re a beautiful woman, Ms. Masters. Don’t protest, please, you know you are. It’s a fact, like strength or height. All your life you'’ve benefited from this attribute, as I have.”

Caitlin can feel herself blushing. “Yes. I have.”

“Men prize beautiful women, they pursue us with all their power, shower us with wealth. They settle for those of medium attractiveness, and the ugly ones they treat as slaves.”

Caitlin isn’t sure what to say. “That might be a little extreme.”

“Do you think so? I do not.”

“Well—”

Jiao silences her with an upraised finger. “We all lose our beauty one day, Ms. Masters. All of us. Never forget that.”

“That day is a long way off for you.”

Jiao smiles. “In the eyes of the man I thought I wanted, it has already come and gone. I sensed it long ago. I’'ve tried to deny it. I have been a fool.”

Caitlin says nothing.

“What do you want me to do?”

CHAPTER

68

It’s 6:00 p.m. as Kelly and I drive down Pierce’s Mill Road toward the

Magnolia Queen,

the flaming sun beginning to set above the bridges behind us. I wanted the meeting earlier, but I was lucky to get it at all. Had the thumb drive not turned out to contain the legal dynamite I’d hoped it would, Hull would have told me to go to hell. As it was, he tried to sidestep my intent by offering a quick meeting between the two of us, but I demanded that Sands be present, and despite Sands’s resistance, Hull forced him to accede to my wishes. What gave me the boost of confidence I feel now was Sands’s insistence that the meeting take place aboard the

Queen.

I’d worried that I might have to insist on this venue myself, but as I’d anticipated, Sands considered it a victory to force his home territory on us.

“What are you thinking?” Kelly asks, braking his 4Runner as we descend the long hill.

“I'm not.”

“Bullshit.”

To my left, the Mississippi River blazes orange under the falling sun, and five hundred hundred yards below us, the fake smokestacks of the

Magnolia Queen

suggest the opening shot of a Technicolor version of

Huckleberry Finn.

“Seriously. Whenever I had to go into court for a summation, or even a critical cross-examination, I

winged it. I figured if I didn't already know everything I needed to, I was lost anyway.”

“I don'’t know if that makes me feel better or worse about this.”

“Everything depends on Hull. I envisioned a bow-tied Beltway tight-ass, but the more I’'ve talked to him, the more I’'ve realized he’s a pro. He’s just been working this case too long. I can’t imagine what trying to run a guy like Sands as a CI would be like. They’re probably like two scorpions in a bottle by now.”

Kelly laughs wickedly. “That I don'’t doubt.”

“Hull and I will be a little like that. More like boxers, maybe. The wire idea was genius. That'’s what’s going to make him let his guard down.”

“Nothing increases the odds of victory more than letting the enemy think he’s already taken your secret weapon.”

Hidden in my belt is a digital transmitter Kelly brought along in his Blackhawk gear bag. Given Kelly’s flint-knife surprise in Sands’s office, we feel sure that Quinn will search every nook and cranny of our bodies before allowing us near Sands. When his search turns up the wire, that should convince our marks that we have no other way to record the conversation. After that everything depends on Sands’s steering us to his office or to the interrogation room below deck.

“You know what I'm wondering?” Kelly says.

“What?”

“Did Jiao really hide those recorders in there?”

“You mean where she was supposed to?”

He gives me a sidelong glance. “I mean at all.”

“She did. Don’t even think about it.”

“Why are you so sure?”

I turn to him, a slight smile showing. “Hell hath no fury, brother. It’s a law of the universe. Like gravity.”

The grade levels out at last, and Kelly pulls the 4Runner alongside the massive barge with the faux steamboat built atop it. The structure dwarfs everything around it, and only the steel cables running above our heads that moor the casino to the shore betray that it’s a vessel and not a building. A red-coated valet approaches the 4Runner, but Kelly rolls down his window and waves him off, then raises the window with a whir.

“Listen,” he says, all levity gone from his voice. “No matter how you look at this, we’re about to walk into hostile territory. Indian country. I don'’t know if Po is coming to this party later or not, but you can bet that Sands, Hull, and Quinn have contingency plans in case things don'’t go their way. At a certain point, every situation becomes every man for himself. Understand?”

“You’re saying if it goes to shit, I'm on my own?”

“No. I'm saying those guys won'’t hesitate to fuck each other or anyone else who gets in their way. Trust does not exist among these people. Not even Quinn and Sands, who probably grew up together. But Sands’s biggest fear is

you.

You’re the loose cannon on his deck. While he had Caitlin, he felt he had you under control, but now…I don'’t think he’d hesitate to kill you if he thought you were going to have him arrested.”

“I get you.”

“After you, his fear is Hull. If Po doesn’'t show, Hull’s going after Sands’s scalp. So Sands has to have an exit strategy in that event too. Just keep all that in mind while you’re ‘winging it.’”

“I will.”

Kelly grins at last. “We’'ve been here before, bro. If the wheels come off, hit the deck and listen for me. I'’ll be right with you.”

“I know you will.”

Kelly looks to his left, over the long gangplank that leads to the main deck of the

Queen.

“There’s our buddy,” he says, lifting a hand to wave at Seamus Quinn. “I'm gonna give you one for Linda Church before we’re done, you mick bastard.”

“Aren’t you Irish too?”

“Sure. What?”

“Nothing. Just take it easy. We didn't come to fight.”

“I'm easy, baby. Let’s do it.”

As we walk across the broad gangplank, I lean toward Kelly. “You think it’ll be Sands’s office or belowdecks?”

“Interrogation room,” he whispers. “The Devil’s Punchbowl.”

“Why there?”

He laughs loudly, as though I’'ve just told a joke. “In case they decide to shoot us. Easier to dump the bodies.”

I can’t tell if he’s kidding or not, and before I have time to think

about it, we’re through the main door of the casino, where a doorman with gold-braid epaulets and a captain’s cap greets us in an “Ol’ Man River” bass.