The North Face of the Heart - Dolores Redondo Page 0,101

sat down, and dumped the water out of his boots. He gazed down in distaste at the thick black stain that discolored his trousers almost up to his waist. Glancing toward the end of the street, he was surprised to see turbulent water surging toward his location. That made no sense. The flood was rising, when by all rights it should have already begun to drain. He used his handkerchief in an effort to wipe the slime from his shirt, but all he managed to do was ruin the handkerchief. He folded it carefully and tucked it away in his back pocket.

The pervasive filth that surrounded him was even more disgusting than the discomfort of the damp heat and his wet clothes. Martin was a clean and meticulous person, and he knew that in moments of chaos and loss, when everything around them was covered with mud and dirt, his crisp appearance would project polite concern to his victims. That, along with the detailed advice he gave them, would assuage their initial misgivings and persuade them to give themselves freely into his care.

He pressed the doorbell to make sure the electricity wasn’t working. The result was a dry click under his finger, nothing more. Martin took a deep breath and let it out slowly, an actor preparing his entrance. He rapped his knuckles against the door and heard a distinct echo inside. The almost immediate response to his knock was the murmuring of stifled voices. Their voices were a mixture of both hope and fear. The door started to open but scraped the floor and jammed. A pistol barrel was thrust through the crack.

Martin used a sales technique he’d once found in a 1950s manual written by a traveling salesman. He stepped back just as the door opened. He remained absolutely still when a man’s face poked out. The man scrutinized him suspiciously. Martin smiled and tapped the badge on his mostly clean white shirt to draw the man’s attention. “Sabine family?”

He waited the full three seconds recommended by the manual and was greeted by an exclamation of relief. “Oh, my God! Thank heavens! It’s wonderful you got here so fast!”

Martin stayed where he was. The man hauled at the jammed door and eventually forced it open enough to admit him. Part of the rear wall and roof had been ripped away by the force of the winds, and rain had soaked almost everything inside the apartment.

“Is everyone all right?” asked Martin.

He really did want to know.

“Yes, thank God. We’re all fine, just a few scrapes and scratches, though I think Jana’s wrist may be broken.” He waved his hand toward a teenage girl seated on the floor, huddled under a blanket and shaking with chills. “But the house! Our home is wrecked,” he exclaimed as he kicked a tree branch that had made its way into the middle of the living room. He looked at Martin, who hadn’t moved from his place outside. Martin gave him a rueful, inquiring look; the man looked down and saw he was still carrying the gun. “Oh, of course. Sorry!” He looked around for some place to put it, found a low table littered with debris, swept it off, and left his gun there.

Martin stepped inside. Serious and confident, he looked from one family member to another, all of them congregated as if summoned by a divine apparition. With the tip of one shoe, he pushed aside enough splintered wood to clear a space for his briefcase. He leaned down, deposited it, and in a smooth continuation of the same motion, he picked up the man’s gun.

“This is the Smith & Wesson you bought in 2000. No other weapons in the apartment, correct?”

“No others,” the man replied. There might have been a note of worry in his voice.

Martin smiled.

36

DEPENDENCY

New Orleans, Louisiana

Dupree left the fire chief’s office and took the interior stairs two at a time. His mind echoed with Michael Verdon’s offer to withhold information, as if granting a special concession. His Washington bosses apparently considered Tucker’s betrayal the most efficient way to proceed and thought he could be convinced to accept it. He went to the conference room they’d commandeered. No one was there. That meant the team was in the ops center.

Amaia, seated next to the supervisor and his deputy, was listening to incoming calls through headphones and watching the call log scrolling down the monitor. Dupree had to go up to her and wave a finger in front of the