Cemetery Dance

Chapter 59

D'Agosta stoodin the back of the squad room, arms folded across his chest, staring at the rows of seated officers before him, listening as Harry Chislett magisterially briefed the troops about the impending "parade event" — that's how the pompous prick referred to it — about to take place outside the Ville. Parade, my ass, thought D'Agosta impatiently. Just because Esteban and Plock had secured a parade permit didn't mean they were planning to march past the Ville with measured pace singing "Give Peace a Chance." D'Agosta had seen how ugly that first crowd had grown, and how quickly. Chislett hadn't — he'd left practically before the damn protest started. And now here he was, gesturing grandly at diagrams on a whiteboard, talking about protection, crowd control, and various tactical nuances as calmly as if he were mapping out a DAR cotillion.

As he listened to the lame plans unfold, D'Agosta felt his hands balling into fists. He'd tried to explain to Chislett that there was a good chance Nora Kelly was being held by the Ville, and that any outburst of violence from the protesters might mean her death. There was more to this than logistics; with any large crowd, violence and mob mentality were a mere heartbeat away. Nora Kelly's life might hang in the balance. But the deputy chief didn't see it that way. "The burden of proof rests on your shoulders," he'd intoned pompously. "Where's your evidence that Nora Kelly is in the Ville?" It was all D'Agosta could do not to sink his fist in the man's adipose tissue.

"We'll have three control points, here, here, and here," Chislett intoned, with another tap of his pointer. "Two at the central nodes of ingress and egress, one at the entrance to Inwood Hill Park. Chain of command will flow from those down to the forward field positions."

"Allemande left with your left hand," D'Agosta muttered to himself. "Right to your partner, right and left grand."

"It does seem that Deputy Chief Chislett is rather missing the point," said a familiar voice at his elbow. D'Agosta turned to see Pendergast standing beside him. "Good afternoon, Vincent," the agent drawled.

"What are you doing here?" D'Agosta asked in surprise.

"I came looking for you."

"Where's your pal, Bertin?"

"He has retreated to the safety of the back bayou. It's just you and me once again."

D'Agosta felt a surge of hope go through him — something he hadn't felt in days. At least Pendergast understood the gravity of the situation. "Then you know we can't wait any longer," he said. "We have to get the hell in there and rescue Nora, now."

"I quite agree."

"If that riot takes place while Nora's being held in the Ville, there's a good chance she'll be killed immediately."

"Again, I would agree — assuming she is at the Ville."

"Assuming? Where else could she be? I had the soundprint on the video analyzed."

"I'm aware of that," Pendergast said. "The experts didn't seem to agree with you that it was an animal."

"Then to hell with the experts. I can't take this waiting anymore. I'm going in."

Pendergast nodded, as if he'd expected this. "Very well. But one thing, Vincent — we must not divide our strength. The Ville is involved in some way, yes. But how? That is the puzzle. There's something going on here I don't yet have a finger on — something that feels wrong to me."

"You're damn right it's wrong. Nora Kelly is about to die."

The special agent shook his head. "That's not what I mean. Do I have your word, Vincent — we do this together?"

D'Agosta looked at him. "You got it." "Excellent. My car is waiting downstairs."