MAX PACED AROUND in the street outside the house, his head churning with all the revelations.
He’d need to see all the evidence and, above all, confront Gustav Carver to be sure—even if he believed Eloise was telling the truth. She didn’t have a lying way about her, because all the self-preservation instincts had been brutalized out of her. Liars tripped themselves up with inconsistencies and improbabilities, often in the smallest details, the loose threads that when tugged unraveled the whole tapestry. What Eloise had told him all fit, all flowed in one direction.
What he couldn’t understand was what Gustav had been thinking, getting outsiders in to investigate Charlie’s disappearance. Hadn’t he thought that they might find out about his business along the way? Hadn’t he at least considered it a risk?
Of course he had, Max concluded. You don’t stay on top of your game for as long as Gustav had by flying close to the sun. People like Gustav never took blind risks; they took informed risks. They didn’t just look before they leaped, they knew every single millimeter of the ground they’d land on.
But then, like all absolute tyrants, Carver had always had his own way. He’d never met a challenge he hadn’t flattened. So what if he got found out? What could one person do against Carver and his network of contacts who, even if they were a fraction as powerful as Eloise had suggested, would wipe that person clean off the face of the planet? Carver considered himself untouchable, and with good reason.
Had Gustav Carver been behind what had happened to Beeson and Medd? Had they got too close? No. Max didn’t think so. At least definitely not Beeson. Beeson would have tried to blackmail Carver and Carver would have had him killed. Why leave him alive so he could tell people what he knew?
So what about the reason he’d originally come here? Charlie Carver? What had happened to him?
He didn’t know for sure, but he suspected Charlie was dead.
What about Eddie Faustin? What part did he play? He’d definitely been trying to kidnap the boy the day he was killed. That was beyond doubt. Faustin had been waiting for the kidnappers to come and get Charlie at a prearranged rendezvous, and then the mob had turned up and things had gone badly wrong.
Or had it?
Maybe Eddie had been set up, double-crossed by the kidnappers. It was possible. They’d paid the mob to start a riot around the car and kill him. It would make sense if the kidnappers wanted to avoid being identified—or suspected.
Yet Codada had said that Faustin was loyal to Gustav Carver, that he loved Carver like a father. Why would he betray Carver? What had the kidnappers offered him? Or maybe they hadn’t offered him anything at all—maybe they had something on him. That wasn’t hard—an ex-Macoute with bloody hands, now working for the head of a child sex ring.
How much had Faustin known about Gustav’s business? Was the kidnapping related to it?
But that still left Charlie unaccounted for and unexplained.
What was there to go on?
He didn’t know. He’d hit a dead end.
Where to now?
Half an hour later, Paul came out to join him in the street.
“She’s given me the location of the place in La Gonâve. They’ve got about twenty kids in there now. They used a cargo boat to get them over there. Every month they filled the hold up with new kids,” Paul said. “We’ll be getting them out tomorrow evening.”
“What about the military here?”
“It’ll be a joint operation with the UN. I have a good friend there,” Paul explained.
“What about Gustav?” Max asked.
“You bring him in.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you, Max. Tomorrow. I want to avoid casualties. If we go up to the Carver estate his people will start shooting. The Americans are stationed quite close by and they’ll come to investigate. Knowing them, they’ll kill all of us and tell Carver to have a nice day.”
“He’s got a lot of security.”
“You’ll have plenty of backup, if you need it. Our guys will follow you up to the estate and wait close by. You’ll have radio contact with them.”
“Assuming I get him out, where do I take him?”
“Get him out on the main road. We’ll take him from there.”
Max didn’t want to do it. He’d never had to bring a client in.
“Make sure you tell Francesca so she’s out of the way. Allain too.”
“It’s in hand,” Vincent said and started heading back to the house.
“What about them—Codada and Eloise?” Max asked. “You gonna let them live?”
“Would you?”