The door opened behind him, and two deputies ushered Snake into the room. The Double Eagle looked down at Claude, gave him a game wink, then sat in the chair across the scarred old table. Claude got out his legal pad as if to take notes, then looked up at the deputies and waited for them to leave.

The two men glared at him as though they’d like to kill him—which was no surprise, considering they’d lost two fellow deputies in the past thirty-six hours—but at length they turned and left the room.

“So what are you doing here?” Snake asked. “I’m supposed to be out of here.”

“We’re working on it. Somebody wants to talk to you.”

Snake chuckled softly. “You got smokes in that pack?”

“Four.” Claude lowered his voice. “But I’ve got something else for you in there.”

Claude ripped off the taped-down top of the pack and brought out an analog flip phone and a thin wire with an earpiece wrapped around it.

“It’s encrypted,” he whispered. “Hit star-one, and Forrest will pick up.”

Snake smiled.

FORREST JUMPED WHEN THE burn phone finally rang. He and Ozan had been waiting two hours in Forrest’s home office in Baton Rouge, and he’d just about given up hope that Devereux would be allowed into the CPSO jail. But the caller ID told him that, unless the FBI had discovered the cell phone hidden in Claude’s briefcase, the man on the other end of the call was his Uncle Snake.

Forrest clicked SEND and said, “Identify yourself.”

“This is Jerry Lee Lewis. The Killer.”

Despite the circumstances, Forrest laughed. It was just like Snake to cut up at the very moment the world was crashing around him. Snake had known Jerry Lee his whole life, and he’d often used that connection to get bar sluts to sleep with him.

“I’m going to talk fast,” Forrest said, clicking on the speakerphone, “in case they figure out what you’re doing. Keep your answers short, and don’t use names.”

“Well, get with it, Tahyo.”

Ozan scowled in confusion, but Forrest smiled. “Tahyo”—a Cajun expression that meant “big, hungry dog”—was a childhood nickname that only Snake and very few others would remember.

“Did your lawyer bring you up to speed on recent developments?”

“I hear the girl’s dead, shot at the Bone Tree.”

“That’s right. And she met somebody else there. Somebody she didn’t expect.”

“And he lived?”

“He walked out of the hospital under his own power.”

“He’s a tough one, I’ll give him that. Do you know where he is now?”

“No.”

“Find out. He knows way too much about too many people in our past. If that doesn’t pucker your asshole . . .”

“I’m working on it. There was a fire at the Bone Tree. You understand? Somebody went to a great deal of trouble to destroy whatever evidence was there.”

Snake chuckled. “That was mighty nice of somebody.”

“That same person also cleared out the safe. Everything that was there is somewhere else.”

“Sounds good.”

“It’s not going to be enough. That’s why I’m calling you. I wish I could tell you you’re going to be okay, but the FBI isn’t going to let this go. Neither is Penn Cage. You were part of everything the Eagles ever did, and no matter how much evidence was destroyed, they’re eventually going to tie you to one of those killings. And one’s all it takes. If that doesn’t happen, somebody’s going to flip on you. Whichever it is, your days are numbered.”

Snake grunted but didn’t comment.

“At least here they’re numbered.” Forrest watched Ozan’s expressionless face for clues to how his pitch was playing. “It’s time to use your golden parachute, Uncle.”

Snake still did not reply.

Forrest thought he heard his uncle blowing out cigarette smoke. Right now the old man was thinking about the arrangements Forrest and Billy had been perfecting for the past five years: new identities, clean passports, three separate properties in Andorra—one of the few nonextradition countries left in the world where a white man could live well. But something told Forrest that his uncle wasn’t itching to retire in the Pyrenees.

“You still there?” Forrest asked.

“I’m here. And I hear what you’re saying. But all in all, I think I’d rather take my chances where I’m at. I got no desire to spend my last years with a bunch of foreigners. I don’t ski or hike or hang-glide, and I don’t care to live with a bunch of Pernod-sippin’ faggots who do.”

Ozan groaned softly.

“Do you realize what you’re saying?” Forrest asked. “How long do you think you can—”

“What you don’t seem to understand,” Snake cut in, “is that I don’t give a shit what they accuse me of. They’ve been calling me a killer for forty years. So what? A few more accusations ain’t gonna matter. Proving guilt in forty-year-old murders is a tough job, and it gets tougher with every passing day. I don’t think they got the evidence to do it.”

“Maybe not, but half a dozen people have died in the past week.”

“I don’t know nothing about those killings. Do you?”

Forrest shook his head at Ozan, who cursed in exasperation.

“You sound nervous, nephew,” Snake said. “Take it easy. Have a drink. I’m not nervous. See, I’m not in the position you’re in. With me, they can either prove a crime or they can’t. But you? Even the appearance of wrongdoing could end your career. So maybe it’s time for you to pull that golden ripcord.”

“Goddamn it, Snake.”

Snake laughed softly. “Have you shoved your boss out of his job yet?”

“Not yet.”

“That doesn’t sound promising. What’s your next play?”

“I’m not going to get into that on the phone. We’ll talk when you get out.”

“When will that be?”

“Soon. Tomorrow, probably.”

“Probably? Shit, boy. Sounds to me like you don’t know whether you’re going or coming.”

Forrest slammed his hand down on the table. “What the fuck were you thinking taking the doc like you did?”

“Covering my bets, Tahyo, the way Frank taught me. Now, seriously, when do you see me walking out of this dump?”

Forrest forced himself to try to calm down. “That depends. The meth disappeared during the bomb scare, so they have no drug evidence to hold you on. In theory, you could be released tomorrow morning. But I don’t know what forensic evidence they may get from Sonny’s corpse.”

“Don’t worry about it, nephew. I’ve figured my own way out of this place. All five of us will walk out before noon tomorrow. You watch. I’ll give Claude instructions on how to pick us up.”

Forrest didn’t like the sound of this. “What are you planning?”

“That’s my business. Now listen. You need to calm down. Things are actually falling our way. The girl’s gone. So’s our latest traitor, and none of my crew’s gonna open his trap to the government again. The next thing that needs to happen is for Doc to be shot as a fugitive. And that Texas Ranger needs to die with him. As for the FBI, you just get your ass into Mackiever’s job and the federal hassle will die down quick.”

Forrest was far from sure about this. Worse, Snake was right about one thing: he could endure anything the FBI threw at him and laugh, while Forrest could not. If the moneymen in New Orleans decided he was a magnet for scandal, they’d cut him off like a gangrenous limb.

“I know you’re thinking about pulling in your horns,” Snake said, “but Frank would have done the exact opposite right now. When the enemy comes for you, you don’t turn tail or lie low, you hit back so hard that nobody will ever think about fucking with you again. Right?”

“I told you I’m not going to talk about tactics.”

“You don’t have to. I know how your mind works. If I’d agreed to retire into the sunset, you’d have made sure all the loose crimes around here got blamed on me. Since I’m refusing that option, you’re gonna start exploring other options. But you know me well enough to know I’ll see bad news coming. So be real careful if you’re tempted to think in that direction. You could wind up on the row yourself.”