A Private Cathedral (Dave Robicheaux 23)

That was Clete Purcel.

The hatch was closed. Bell looked at his watch.

“How much is Shondell paying you for this?” I said.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he said.

“What’s to get?” I said. “You have a black soul. I hope you enjoy your shuffleboard retirement in St. Petersburg before you cash in.”

“I’m already on the other side,” he replied.

“I didn’t catch that.”

“I’m already across the Big Divide. You’re sure a dumb son of a bitch, aren’t you?”

I heard feet walking fast behind us. “Sorry I’m late,” Shondell said. He was wearing a suit and tie. “Please forgive me if I don’t stay around for all the festivities. I have some business to do, but I’ll have everything on film and I can look at it later. Ready to get started?”

He opened the hatch. At first I couldn’t see clearly past the hatchway. But obviously, Shondell was stunned. I stepped sideways so I could see past him. The inside of the compartment had been torn apart, the chains and leather padding ripped from the bulkheads, the machines of torment thrown about like toys, the oak levers snapped off, the steel shafts doubled over, the cogged wheels twisted out of shape, the Brazen Bull pulled inside out.

“Must be the maid’s day off,” Clete said.

Shondell’s face looked maniacal. “Secure the yacht,” he said to Bell.

“We’re at sea, sir,” Bell said. “We’re secured already.”

“Get Adonis Balangie down here.”

“Yes, sir. Should I tell him about this?”

“I told you to get him down here. So go do it.”

Shondell’s rage and indignation were feigned. I’ve seen fear in men’s faces when the 105s were coming in short, and I’ve seen the desperation in the eyes of men who knew the dust-off wasn’t coming and the Great Shade was about to pass over their faces; but I had never seen terror greater than I saw in Shondell’s eyes during that moment. It was my belief then, and my belief now, that he saw the future and was terrified and would have traded his soul to avoid it.

Unfortunately for him, he had probably bartered away his soul many years ago.

* * *

BELL TOOK US back to our compartment. He didn’t turn out the light. “This doesn’t change anything. You guys know that, don’t you?”

Surprisingly, Carroll LeBlanc spoke up. “Adonis Balangie wanted to cut us a break. I want to take him up on it. I can’t go through this shit again.”

“What break?” Bell said.

“A break. What do you care?” Carroll said. “Show some mercy.”

Bell closed and locked down the hatch.

“What are you doing, Carroll?” I said.

“You said we needed a weapon,” he replied.

* * *

FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, Adonis opened the hatch and stepped into the compartment. One of the men in silver overalls stayed outside. Adonis was wearing a light overcoat, damp with sea spray. “What’s this about a break?”

Clete and I lowered our heads. Our hands were still bound behind us.

“You said you’d shoot us up,” Carroll said. “I got no illusions. I’d like to take you up on that.”