the ring into the right lock and presto, Open Sesame."
"Is this possible?" he asked.
"Anything's possible, Bud. You know that."
Halliday stared at her drawing, suddenly galvanized. Her theory took a big leap of faith to believe, but the woman was a stone-cold genius. He couldn't afford to dismiss any theory she put forward no matter how loopy it might sound on first blush.
"What's in store for us tonight?" Mandy asked, clearly bored with this topic.
"I'm hungry." Michelle pocketed her pen. "I haven't eaten a thing all day, except for a Snickers I found in my drawer, and that was so stale the chocolate had turned white."
"Finish your drink," Halliday said.
She feigned a pout. "You know how I get when I drink on an empty stomach."
Halliday chuckled. "So I've been told."
"Well, it's true and then some," Mandy said. And in another voice entirely, deeper, with plenty of vibrato, a singer's voice: "Dat li'l girl, she get freak-eee!"
"Whereas dis one," Michelle said in precisely the same voice, "she already got her freak on!"
Both of them threw their heads back and laughed for precisely the same amount of time. Halliday, watching them, turning his head from side to side, felt a throbbing in his forehead, as if he were observing a tennis match from too close.
"Ah, there you are!" Mandy said as their foursome was about to be completed.
"We thought you might not be coming," Michelle said.
Halliday palmed his diagram-covered napkin and hid it in his lap. Both the girls noticed but said nothing, simply smiling into the face of the newcomer.
"There is no power on earth." Jalal Essai slid into the banquette and kissed Mandy in the place on her neck she liked best. "That could possibly have kept me away."
Peter Marks stood very still. The man behind him smelled of tobacco and anger. The knife he held to Marks's throat was razor-sharp, and Marks, who certainly had enough experience in these matters, had no doubt that Hererra would slit his throat.
"Senor Hererra, there's no need for these melodramatics," he said. "I'll gladly share with you everything I know. Let's just keep calm and not lose our heads here."
"I'm perfectly calm," Hererra said grimly.
"All right." Marks tried to swallow. His throat had dried up. "I'll admit up front that what I know isn't very much."
"It's got to be more than that bastard Lloyd-Shithead was willing to share. He told me to concentrate on making arrangements to bring my son back to Spain, which he said wouldn't be possible until the medical examiner was through with him."
Now Marks understood why Hererra was in a fury. "I agree, the chief inspector is something of a dick." He swallowed. "But he's of no consequence now. I want to know why Diego was murdered almost as much as you do. Believe me, I'm determined to find out." This was true. Marks would never find Bourne without discovering what had happened last night in the Vesper Club, and why Bourne would leave with the murderer as if they were friends. Something wasn't adding up.
He felt Hererra breathing behind him. It was deep and even, which to Marks was very frightening indeed, because it meant that despite his grief this man was in full possession of all his faculties. This spoke of a powerful personality; it would be suicidal to fuck with him.
"In fact," Marks continued, "I can show you a photo of the man who murdered your son."
The knife blade trembled a moment in Hererra's huge fist, then it was withdrawn, and Marks stepped away. He turned to face the older man.
"Please, Senor Hererra, I understand the depth of your sorrow."
"Do you have a son, Senor Marks?"
"I don't, sir. I'm not married."
"Then you can't know."
"I lost a sister when I was twelve. She was only ten. I was so angry I wanted to destroy everything in sight."
Hererra contemplated him for a moment, then said, "So you know."
He took Marks into the living room. Marks sat down on a sofa, but Hererra remained standing, looking at the photos of his son and, presumably, his many girlfriends that lined the mantel. For a long time, the two men remained like that, Hererra silent, Marks unwilling to disturb the older man's grief.
At length, Hererra turned and, crossing to where Marks sat, said, "I'll see that photo now."
Marks dug out his PDA, scrolled to the media section, and brought up the photo he'd gotten from Lloyd-Philips's IT tech.
"He's on the left," Marks said, pointing to the as-yet-unidentified man.