His smile was very cool. “I’m afraid you’ll be doing it anyway. Bishop wouldn’t like it if I had to hurt you, but personally I wouldn’t hesitate.”
She looked into his eyes then; they were flat, black, and completely soulless. He was another man like James, one who did what he had to do with no remorse. “Would you kill me?”
“It wouldn’t come to that. I’m too good at what I do.” He held out his hand. “It’s getting hot in here, and there’s a nice apartment with clean clothes and food and cable TV awaiting us across town.”
“What makes you think I watch TV?”
He didn’t blink. “James has briefed me thoroughly. You have a preference for twisted mysteries and love stories and you don’t like sitcoms unless they’re British. Plus, New Orleans has some of the best food in the world and I’ve made arrangements to have meals delivered from any restaurant that takes your fancy.”
She swung her legs off the bunk, ignoring his proffered hand. “Where’s Merlin?”
“I’m afraid he can’t come with you. He’s too easy to track. Once everything is taken care of, you’ll be able to take him back to Wisconsin with you.”
For a moment she didn’t move, but then she did what she had done so long ago. She simply turned everything off, all feeling, all interest, all longing, regret, or memory. “I don’t have any shoes,” she said, as if that were the most important thing in the world.
“That’s all right. It’s only a few steps to the car. There’ll be shoes waiting for you.”
“And how do I know you aren’t one of the people who has tried to kill me? Why should I trust you?”
Ryder’s smile this time was less of a grimace. “James said you’d ask that. He said to give you these.” He took her hand and placed something in it, closing her fingers around it. She knew what it was, even before she looked.
Her aunt’s diamond earrings, the ones he supposedly stole in Venice. She wanted to fling them at him.
But then, he wasn’t Bishop. So instead she calmly put them on, sliding them into the piercings and fastening them. She looked Ryder straight in the eye. “I’m ready,” she said.
“How did she look?” Bishop was sprawled in the apartment where Ryder had been living the last month, partway through a bottle of Scotch. He’d spent the last few hours signing paperwork, checking in with Madsen, prowling around the ramshackle building Ryder had chosen, and he was in a thoroughly foul mood. Merlin had risen the moment Ryder had come back in, whining in anticipation, and then sank down on the floor with a sigh of disappointment when he realized Evangeline wasn’t with him. Bishop knew just how he felt.
“Your Angel? Just fine, particularly when she saw all her research papers and her laptop waiting for her. Jenkins and Thomas have the first watch, and Thomas had already stopped in at Commander’s Palace for food. She looked quite happy to be rid of your sorry ass, though I think she misses the dog.”
“Thanks,” Bishop said with just the trace of a snarl. “She didn’t argue?”
“Just a little. You were right, though. Once I handed her the earrings, she shut right up. Nothing like diamonds to make a woman behave.”
“You don’t know shit. Those were her diamonds.” Stupid idiot that he was, he’d carried them with him, ever since he left her in Venice. He’d kept meaning to give them back to her, but something had always stopped him. Now he had nothing tying him to her, apart from the legal trifle of a marriage. Now he could let go of her. “I took care of the paperwork. This wreck of a place officially belongs to the Committee on the Preservation of Democracy. How’s that for a bullshit title?”
“It’ll do for now, as long as we don’t have any skinheads crawling out of the woodwork. Now that you’ve finally gotten your ass here we can start work on retrofitting the place, plus I’ve bribed the right people. Considering New Orleans’s reputation, it’s surprising how twitchy the city gets about their old buildings.”
“You could have chosen a high rise,” Bishop said.
Ryder shrugged, unmoved. “I don’t like them, and neither do you. We’ll have an easier time keeping things on the down low here in the Garden District. You gonna see her again?”
The last bit was such a change in subject that Bishop snarled before he could control himself. “You said it. She’s better off without me.”
“Think about business for a change, why don’t you?” Ryder said, totally without sympathy, but then, he’d always been a cold bastard. “We’ve only got circumstantial evidence against His Eminence, not even enough to warrant an official investigation, and in the meantime ships go in and out of port, filled with cargo.”
“Human beings aren’t cargo.” Bishop took another drink. He could hold his liquor, which was unfortunate when he wanted nothing more than a few hours’ oblivion.
“Not to His Eminence and the Corsini family. And we can’t even get close enough to take him out. He keeps that cadre of priests around him at all times—the only chance we’d have would be to kill all of them.”
Bishop looked at him. “Why haven’t we?”
“Two reasons. You and I are sanctioned—the others aren’t—and I’m not sure you and I are enough to handle it. Plus, not everyone in the Cardinal’s entourage is dirty. You were raised a Catholic—how’d you like to face your God after murdering an innocent priest or two or three?”
“I’m not likely to face any God at all after the things I’ve done. And I’m a recovering Catholic. If I’d still kept any doubts, this whole mess would have put a stop to it.”
“You shock me!” Ryder’s voice was mocking. “Even with your nice new pope?”
“He’s not my pope, and he’s probably a Corsini too,” Bishop said bitterly. “And I really wouldn’t mind beating the shit out of you, so just keep at it.”