“Good.” He was out of the shower and reaching for a towel. “Then let’s get you dry and into bed.”

“I can—”

“Hush.”

“You know, I didn’t really believe in the Cabal before I heard Hebert talking about it. It wasn’t real to me. I believe in it now. They’re the ones who pointed Hebert at Jane and my mother and told him to kill them. Someone has to stop them. So much evil…”

“Yes.”

“Jennings said it was right there before him, but he didn’t see it. What didn’t he see, Joe?”

“We’ll figure it out later.” He wrapped her in a dry towel and gently pushed her toward the bedroom. “Climb in bed while I dry off.”

“If it was right there before him, then it was right there before us, too.”

“The only thing right before you is that bed.”

“I can’t go to sleep. I have to put it together.”

“You’re not going to put anything together until you get some rest.” He took her arm and drew her toward the bed. “Come on. I’ll hold you and keep you warm, and you can think your little heart out.” He slipped into bed, pulled her down beside him, and cuddled her close. “Better?”

Better? Warmth and safety against death’s cold inevitability. “Don’t let me go to sleep.”

“No guarantees. You’re on your own. The only promise you’ll get from me is that I’ll always be beside you to wake you in the morning.” Wonderful promise, beautiful promise…

Bittersweet promise.

“You’re stiffening against me,” he said. “Don’t do it. Take this moment, Eve. I want to give it to you.”

And she wanted to take it. She relaxed against him.

“That’s it.”

“This isn’t a good idea.”

“Shh.” He stroked her hair. “Never argue with Swamp Thing.” God, she was actually smiling. Or was she crying? Maybe it was a little of both. “I wouldn’t dream of it. If Swamp Thing will just shut up so I can try to think.”

“That can be arranged.” He kissed her temple. “Close your eyes; it will help you to concentrate.”

He just wanted her to go to sleep.

She was very much afraid he was going to get his wish. Her lids were too heavy to stay open…

No, fight it. Go over everything Nathan and Jennings had told them. Clear her mind and remember everything she’d learned from Hebert in those last moments before Joe had killed him.

And keep her damn eyes open.

HOUMA

3:35 AM.

October

It was right there before me.

There’s nothing you can do about the old tiger.

It’s been timed down to the last gasp.

Royal weddings… The Olympics…

“Oh, my God.” Eve jerked upright in bed. “It’s a funeral, Joe.”

“What?” Joe rose up on one elbow. “What are you talking about?”

“It is a meeting of the Cabal at Boca Raton. But they had to have a reason. No Olympics, no wedding. It’s a funeral. There’s going to be a funeral so important in Boca Raton that it would validate the presence of dignitaries from all over the world.”

Joe nodded slowly. “It’s possible.”

“Why else would the Cabal send their number-one assassin to Boca?” She felt sick.

“Christ, I wonder how many important people have been killed to provide the Cabal a reason to meet.”

“Wait a minute. We’re not sure you’re right.”

“We’re not sure I’m wrong.” Eve swung her feet to the floor. “But Hebert talked as if his target wasn’t dead yet. He said I couldn’t stop it, but that means he’s still alive.

Maybe we can find a way to save him.”

“Providing we can find out who he is.”

“He’s well known enough to attract worldwide notice.” She was thinking quickly.

“Probably not an entertainer or movie star. He lives in Boca Raton and has plans to be buried there. Otherwise the meeting would have been planned for somewhere else.” She reached for her telephone. “What’s Nathan’s cell number?” Joe reached in his pocket and brought out his phone book. “You’re right, Nathan’s a newspaperman. He should be able to track the target down.”

“And he’s in Boca right now.” She was rapidly dialing Nathan’s number. “Which is where we need to be. Will you call and get us reservations out of New Orleans while I talk to Nathan?”

Chapter 19

« ^ »

" CHRIST.” NATHAN WAS SILENT FOR A MOMENT AFTER EVE HAD FINISHED

speaking. “It’s got to be Franklin Copeland.”

Shock rippled through Eve. “What?”

“I’m surprised you didn’t guess. It’s been all over the newspapers and television for the past couple days. The Old Tiger is a sick man.”

“We haven’t been paying any attention to the news.”

“I can see how you’ve been a little busy.”

“Old Tiger,” she repeated. “That’s what Hebert called him.”

“That was Copeland’s nickname when he was a colonel in Vietnam before he became president. War hero, ex-President of the United States, and for the last fifteen years, he’s been known for his work with UNESCO. I’d say he’d warrant a pretty impressive guest list for his funeral.”

“Is he supposed to be buried in Boca?”

“I don’t know. I can find out.” Silence. “Jesus, I met Copeland once when he was lecturing in New Orleans. I liked him. He’s one hell of a guy.” Eve had never met him, but she’d liked what she’d known of him, too. He had seemed a warm, intelligent man with no delusions of grandeur.

“We’re talking as if he’s dead already,” Nathan said. “What the hell can we do to save him?”

“What’s he suffering from?” She inhaled sharply. “Anthrax?”

“No.”

It had been her first thought, connecting Copeland’s illness to the anthrax scare in Boca Raton a year or two ago.

“Then what is it?”

“Nothing suspicious. He has heart problems aggravated by severe asthma. The asthma seemed to be pretty well under control for the past couple years, but he’s had several attacks in the past few weeks. He’s been in and out of the hospital three times—the last bout of asthma triggered a heart attack.”

“Asthma… What could trigger an attack? Some kind of poison?”

“Beats me. But the Secret Service should be able to find out, once they know what’s happening. You’re on your way down here?”

“As soon as we can get a plane. Find us a place to stay outside the city. We have to keep a low profile. We don’t want anyone to know Hebert’s dead.”

“That’s smart. Then you’ll want me to go to Copeland’s Secret Service team right away and tell them what we know.”

“Right.”

“I’m on it. Maybe they can save the old guy. Let me know what flight you’re on and I’ll meet you at the airport.”

“God, I hope it’s not too late.” She hung up and turned to Joe. “Franklin Copeland.”

He gave a low whistle. “It would fit. Not only famous, but loved by the masses.”

“And they’re killing him just for an excuse to have a goddamn meeting.” She could feel the tears sting her eyes. “I wish they’d all burn in hell.”

“It must be a pretty important meeting,” he said thoughtfully. “Etienne told Nathan they never meet in person unless something critical is in the balance. I’d be interested in knowing what’s on their agenda.”

“So would I. We’ll find out.” She swallowed to ease the tightness of her throat.

“But it’s Copeland who’s important right now. What time can we get out of New Orleans?”

“First flight is ten A.M. to Fort Lauderdale. It’s about a forty-minute drive to Boca.

There’s nothing direct.”

She started for the bathroom. “Then let’s get out of here.” Nathan was waiting for them at the gate. She didn’t have to hear his first sentence.

It was all there in his face.

“Sorry. Copeland died two hours ago.”

Disappointment flooded her. She had been hoping against hope that they could save him. She felt the tears sting her eyes. “I really hoped—”

“Let’s get out of here.” Joe took her arm and guided her down the corridor. “What about the Secret Service? You got through to them?” Nathan nodded. “For all the good it did me. It took me time I didn’t have to convince them they had to take me seriously. They thought I was just some wild-ass reporter trying to drum up a story. Then they called Rusk at the FBI to verify there was an ongoing investigation about the Cabal.”