Greg Iles - The Devils Punchbowl

The window attendant hands Caitlin a white bag, and she pays with a credit card. As we pull away, she plucks a triangle of pita bread from the bag and eats it in a bite. “Food of the gods,” she says. “What about the Chinese angle? In the post-9/11 world, surely foreign investors in American casinos must be investigated by the CIA, even if the gaming commission gives them a pass because they have a nominally small share.”

“I agree. That part doesn’'t make sense. If one of these Chinese investors has a criminal record, or is dirty in some way, I don'’t see the government allowing him to purchase part of a casino company.”

“And you never thought Tim’s theory of Sands ripping off the town by shorting taxes made sense. So what is he really up to?”

“When I was in Houston, I heard about some cases where casinos had been used for money laundering. An Indian casino in particular, I remember, with links to organized crime on the East Coast. But if that’s what they'’re up to, why risk the operation with side action like dogfighting and prostitution? I mean, maybe a guy like Sands would risk it, but not some Chinese billionaire. At least I don'’t think he would.”

“Superrich freaks exist,” Caitlin says. She laughs, then digs out a strip of meat to eat with another piece of pita. “In fact, they'’re probably the rule, not the exception. Plenty of rich Japanese freaks, when it comes to sex and violence. China, I don'’t know. I’'ve been there twice, but only as a tourist.”

“You mean you didn't sleep with any natives?”

“No, I still like older white guys, for some unfathomable reason. What do you expect out of Kelly?”

“Security, for one thing.”

She looks up with utter seriousness in her eyes.

Annie?

she mouths.

“Safe. That'’s all that matters. But Kelly won'’t show up empty-handed. He’ll have whatever Blackhawk finds on Sands, Quinn, and Golden Parachute. Those guys don'’t miss much.”

Caitlin gives a skeptical little

hmph.

“What’s that for?”

“They do a lot of work in Iraq, right? That hasn’'t turned out so well, in case you haven'’t noticed.”

“Yeah, well, Kelly’s on the first team. And he’ll push to get a thorough job on this.”

“I agree. Besides, I miss having a guy around who can handle a mob attack or home invasion, if I get into that kind of situation.”

I know she’s keeping up this patter to try to keep me from sinking into depression, but just bringing her up to speed has exhausted me. Two bites of food is like taking a shot of Demerol.

“I wasn'’t kidding when I said you look terrible,” Caitlin says. “What were you going to do next? Like right this minute?”

“Tonight I'm going to fly the river with Danny McDavitt and try to see where the VIP boat goes.”

“The VIP boat?”

“The excursion boat owned by Golden Parachute. I forgot to tell you, Tim said they usually take the excursion boat to these dogfights.”

“When was the last time you slept?”

“I got a few hours last night.”

“Bullshit. Your eyes look like they'’re bleeding.”

I flip down the visor and look in the vanity mirror. She’s not exaggerating by much. If I don'’t recharge my batteries soon, I'm going to be no use to anybody. “Actually…I guess the last time I slept was in my office yesterday. Couple of hours on a cot. And I only got four hours the night before that.”

“What were you going to do if you found the VIP boat?”

“Nothing. Stand off and find out where it anchors. Then go home and wait for Kelly.”

“I think your pilot could handle that job on his own. Don’t you?”

“Yeah, I think he could. But—”

“You’re in no condition to make decisions. You’ve done well up to now, but you need sleep. You’re coming back to my house and crashing until an hour before Kelly arrives. Tell McDavitt to call me if there’s a problem. I'’ll man the satellite phone, whatever.”

“That'’s a tempting offer.”

“It’s not an offer. It’s an order.”

“Okay. Let me speak to Danny. I need to check on something anyway.”

As Caitlin drives along Homochitto Street, I roll down the window and call Danny McDavitt on the satellite phone. His usually laconic voice sounds worried from the first syllable.

“Carl’s not back yet,” he says.

“From the Devil’s Punchbowl?”

“Right.”

“How long has he been gone?”

“I don'’t know exactly what time he went in, but he’s almost three hours past due now.”

“You think he got stuck down there in the dark?”

“He may have. He’d probably spend the night down there rather than try to climb out in the dark.”

“I hope that’s it.”

“How are you doing?” McDavitt asks.

“I'm pretty whipped. Haven’t slept for two days. Do you think you could make tonight’s flight without me?”

“Just do what we talked about earlier?”

“Yeah. And stay far enough away so that they don'’t hear the chopper.”

“I might have to make one pass at an audible level to get a good fix. FLIR has its limitations, especially when you can’t afford the top of the line.”

“Just be careful.”

“Always. Hey, I heard from Hans Necker. He examined the wrecked balloon, and he’s pretty sure the shots came from the levee road. So most likely they were fired from a parked vehicle, or from the trees near one. And definitely from a silenced rifle.”

“Okay. Tell him thanks if you talk to him again, but we already know who ordered those shots fired. I was just hoping they’d been

fired from private property, and we could get the name of the landowner. How are Necker’s legs?”

“One bad sprain, one fracture. He’s a tough bird though. I also heard from our blond friend. He’s landing in Baton Rouge about three this morning. I'm going to fly down and get him, if you’ll pay for the fuel.”

“Absolutely.”

“We can be at the rendezvous by four thirty a.m., if you want to wake up that early.”

When Danny dropped me off at my car, we decided that as soon as Kelly arrived, we’d meet on a piece of private property owned by one of my father’s two partners. “That'’s great. The sooner the better.”

“Do you want a report before then?”

“Only if Carl turns up.”

“Right. I'm out.”

“Thanks, Danny.”

“Everything okay?” Caitlin asks.

“I don'’t know. The guy who’s checking out Tim’s car hasn’'t come out of the Devil’s Punchbowl.”

“You think he’s in trouble?”

“I just hope he’s not down with a snakebite or something.”

“You said he was a marine, right? He’ll be okay.”

“I guess. That food is really hitting me now. Jesus. I can hardly keep my eyes open.”

“Close them. I'’ll wake you when we get to my house.”

“If my cell rings, ignore it. If the satellite phone rings, answer it. But be very careful what you say, once we’re in your house.”

She reaches out and brushes my hair away from my eyes. “Just let go, okay? We’ll be home soon. You did the right thing telling me.”

“Did I?” I ask, but my mind is already sliding into blankness.

“Penn, wake up.”

“What?” I jerk to a half-alert state of panic. We’re still in the car, parked against a vanilla brick wall. “What’s happening?”

“Chief Logan just called.”

“What time is it?”

“You were only asleep for a couple of minutes. We were almost home and your phone rang.”

More panic. “The satellite phone?”

“No, no, your regular cell. I wouldn'’t have answered, but I recognized his number.”

“You what?”

“I don'’t forget numbers, you know that.”

I look out the window and see the Entergy building. “We’re at the police station?”

“Logan said he needs to talk to you face-to-face.”

“What else did he say? Sands’s people can listen to my regular cell.”