“The wily likes of me would have sat up and taken notice,” Trapper said.

“Shortly after your arrival,” Thomas said, still speaking to Kerra, “you began requesting to do an interview with me.”

“Panicksville.”

Again Thomas ignored Trapper. “I agreed to the interview to test you, Kerra, to see if, while profiling me, you had somehow linked me to the Pegasus.”

Trapper said, “You told us you did the interview to make those who killed your daughter nervous.”

“That’s true, in part. Definitely. But I had to know if Kerra posed a threat.” Going back to her, he said, “You didn’t touch on anything remotely connected to the bombing or the complex I developed on the hotel’s former spot. Again, I relaxed.”

“Then you learned that I was going to interview The Major,” she said.

He took a sip of scotch. “That was one coincidence too many.”

“You decided he and I had to be killed.”

“Initially.” He could tell the admission stunned them, Kerra in particular. He rolled the highball glass back and forth between his palms. “However, I was advised to reconsider the fallout that a double murder would generate, the subsequent in vestigation, etcetera. I agreed that perhaps I had overreacted.”

“You called off our execution.”

“I postponed it,” he said with bald honesty. “I would wait to see what repercussions, if any, came from the interview and then make a decision. I watched the broadcast, but nothing about it unnerved me.” He paused before adding, “Obviously someone was of a differing opinion.”

Trapper raised his index finger. “I’ve just figured out why the attack occurred after, not before, the interview. Unlike you, these someones didn’t know Kerra’s significance until she announced it Sunday night.”

“When she made the public disclosure—”

“The shit hit the fan.”

“They acted with remarkable speed.”

“Jenks and who else?”

Thomas didn’t say anything to that.

“Come on, Tom. Cough him up, and I’ll take it from there. The G-men might listen more attentively if I deliver a crooked deputy sheriff to them.”

Thomas tipped his head toward the cell phone in Kerra’s hand and said to Trapper, “That audio recording is of little consequence. You did most of the talking. I responded with nothing incriminating or even affirming, except to say that you told a captivating story.”

“You said you would direct me. In my summation, tell me where I went wrong.”

Thomas didn’t say anything.

Trapper said softly, “You’ve got to give me more, Tom, or I am not—and you can record this your ownself, spray paint it on the field of the Cotton Bowl, skywrite it over downtown, carve it into your skin, whatever—I am not going to the feds and sticking my neck out for you.

“If you continue to hold out, I’ve a good mind to call your buddy Jenks and tell him you’ve ratted him out. That’ll guarantee that I won’t have to waste another minute of my life obsessing over you because you will be O. V. E. R. Talk to me, now, or all bets are off.”

Thomas assessed his situation and, although it rankled, acknowledged that Trapper did hold the advantage. Thomas had only one chance to see justice done for Tiffany. The tradeoff was admitting to Trapper his own wrongdoing.

He swirled the liquid in his glass as he carefully chose his words. “Where you went wrong was overthinking it. You envisioned a conclave of like-minded men, a clan. You imagined it being founded on a doctrine, because you couldn’t conceive of it of being so incredibly simple. There is no higher cause. Never was. No philosophy or creed or anything like what you surmised. Nothing idealistic or anarchist or radically inspired.”

“Then how did you get your converts?”

“When something needed doing, I looked for a candidate or candidates to do it, singled them out, discovered what their heart’s desire was—”

“And provided it.”

Thomas didn’t admit it out loud but gave a slight nod. “A public office, a piece of real estate, a seat on the board of a lending company, a national championship. The object of desire could be something as highflown as that, or as plebeian as a married woman’s sudden availability.”

Trapper said, “She would become widowed.”

“Accidents occur,” he said, “and the results are often fatal.”

“You’re contemptible,” Kerra whispered.

Thomas smiled blandly. “Not in the opinion of the frustrated suitor who was so grateful, he threw a playoff hockey game.”

She averted her gaze as though unable to stand looking at him.

Trapper was wearing a thoughtful scowl. “A man recently diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer …”

Picking up on the lead-in, Thomas said, “Who had inadequate health and life insurance, would welcome a lifetime income for his wife and children.”

“All he had to do was carry a time bomb into a hotel and confess to mass murder.”

Thomas raised his hands up shoulder high but, again, didn’t admit anything aloud.

“Still,” Trapper said, “that would have taken some convincing. It’s not like you promised him paradise and an inexhaustible supply of virgins.”

Trapper had hit on an essential element of Thomas’s success. “Often the favor was done prior to the recipient’s knowledge of it.”

“Ah-ha! Of course. So when you tell him to do something, he’s already obligated. How can he refuse? The noose is already around his neck. Either he signs your pledge or you open the trap door.”

Thomas blinked.

Trapper saw his surprised reaction and smiled. “Yeah, we know about your pledge. That’s your insurance policy, right? A list of everybody you’ve corrupted. How many are we talking, Tom?”

“It would keep the FBI busy for years.”

“A lot of cold cases would go hot again. Including the Pegasus.”

“And my daughter’s murder. That’s why I came to you. We want the same individual. I’ll give him to you, but I want your word that he’ll be punished to the fullest extent of the law, along with whoever he got to push the plunger on that syringe.”

Trapper placed his hands on his knees and leaned forward. “I understand that. But you need to understand this. You can hand-deliver that individual, hell, you can waltz Jack the Ripper in there. Uncle Sam’s boys aren’t going to let you walk for the Pegasus. Maybe for a Berkley Johnson, or the two who burned to death in the factory fire. But not for one hundred ninety-seven souls.”

“I’m betting otherwise. You don’t know the caliber of the names on my list. Federal prosecutors will be falling all over themselves, thanking me for turning them over.”

“Like who? Give me a hint.”

“I’ll hand over the list after you’ve struck my deal.”

“No list, no deal.”

“Then we’re in limbo.”

“I’ve been in limbo,” Trapper said. “And you know what? It ain’t that bad being known as a hero’s son who couldn’t hack it. The lower people’s expectations are of me, the fewer responsibilities I have. We stay in limbo?” He shrugged. “I’m used to it. I can live with it.

“The question is, can you? Do you want to see the people who murdered your daughter brought to justice, or not? They seriously wounded The Major, but he’s alive. Tiffany’s dead. They wanted your attention so they pumped enough heroin into her vein to bring down a bull elephant. They’re walking around free. Can you continue living with that?”

“I don’t believe you can,” Kerra said. “Give Trapper what he needs, and he’ll see to it that her murderers are punished.”

Thomas wavered.

“Where do you keep the list?” Trapper asked. “Here?”

“No. Everyone who signs realizes it’s completely inaccessible. Otherwise someone would have killed me a long time ago, then excavated this house searching for it.”

“How do they know it’s inaccessible?” Before Thomas had time to give Trapper the answer, light dawned in his eyes. “You don’t bring it to them, you take them to it. Bowels of a bank vault? Or something more Raiders of the Lost Ark? A cave, a bunker reachable only through a maze of booby-trapped tunnels?”