"Stand behind the table," came the brisk voice.
They filed in and did as instructed, Hayward, Pendergast, and the annoying Bertin. D'Agosta could already feel disapproving vibes radiating from Hayward. She had protested Bertin's presence — the swallowtail coat and cudgel — cane hadn't gone over well at all — but his temporary FBI credentials were in order. The little man looked disheveled, his face pale, beads of sweat standing out on his temples.
"All right now," said the woman, standing behind the table. "Have we done this before?"
D'Agosta said nothing. The rest murmured, "No."
"You can request only one evidence set at a time. I'm the only one allowed to touch the evidence, unless you need to perform a close examination — which, I should add, needs to be pre — approved. Tests may be ordered through written requests. Now, this piece of paper here lists all the evidence collected under the warrant, as well as other evidence assembled in the case. As you can see, there are photographs of everything. Now—" She smiled, her face almost cracking. " — what would you like to examine?"
"First," said Pendergast, "can you bring out the evidence we retrieved from Colin Fearing's crypt?"
After a delay, the tiny paper coffin and its faux — skeletal contents were retrieved. "What next?" the woman said.
"We'd like to see the trunk from the Ville and its contents." D'Agosta pointed. "That picture, there."
The woman ran a lacquered finger down the list, tapped a number, turned, moved to one of the evidence cabinets, opened a drawer, slid out a tray. "It's rather too big for me," she said.
D'Agosta stepped forward. "I'll help you."
"No." The woman made a call on her handheld radio, and a few minutes later a burly man came in and helped her lift the trunk onto the table, then took up a position in the corner.
"Open it, please, and lay out the contents," said D'Agosta. He hadn't had a good look at it when they'd taken it from the Ville.
With maddening care, the woman opened the lid and removed the leather — wrapped contents, laying them out with excessive precision.
"Unwrap them, please," D'Agosta said.
Each item was untied and unwrapped as if a museum object. A set of knives was revealed, each stranger, more exotic, and more unsettling than the last. Their blades were elaborately curved, serrated, and notched, the bone and wooden handles inlaid with odd curlicues and designs. The last item to be unwrapped wasn't a knife but a thick piece of wire bent and curled into a most fantastical design, with a bone handle at one end and a hook at the other, the hook's outer edge honed to a razor — like sharpness. It was precisely like the one Pendergast had snagged.
"Sacrifice knives with vévé," said Bertin, taking a step back.
D'Agosta turned on him with irritation. "Vay — vay?"
Bertin covered his mouth, coughed. "The handles," he said in a weak voice, "have vévéon them, the designs of the Loa."
"And what the hell's a 'loa'?"
"A demon, or spirit. Each knife represents one of them. The circular designs represent the inner dance or danse — cimetièreof that particular demon. When animals or… other living things… are sacrificed to the Loa,you must use the Loa'sknife."
"In other words, voodoo shit," said D'Agosta.
The little man plucked out a handkerchief, dabbed at his temples with a shaking hand. "Not Vôdou. Obeah."
Bertin's French pronunciation of voodoowas a fresh irritation for D'Agosta. "What's the difference?"
"Obeah is the real thing."
"The real thing," D'Agosta repeated. He glanced at Hayward. Her face was closed.
Pendergast removed a leather kit from his suit coat, opened it, and began removing things — a small rack, test tubes, tweezers, a pin, several eyedropper bottles of reagents — placing each item on the table in turn.
"What's this?" Hayward asked, sharply.
"Tests," was the clipped answer.
"You can't set up a lab in here," she said. "And you heard the lady — you need pre — approvals."
A white hand slipped into the black suit coat, reappeared with a piece of paper. Hayward took it and read it, her face darkening.
"This is highly irregular—" the mummified woman began. Before she could finish, a second paper appeared and was held up before her. She took it, read it, did not offer to return it.
"Very well," she said. "What object would you like to begin with?"
Pendergast pointed to the wire hook, bent into elaborate curlicues. "I shall need to handle it."
The woman glanced at the sheet of paper again, then nodded.
Pendergast fitted a loupe to his eye, picked the hook up in gloved hands, turned it over, examining it closely, then laid it down. Using the pin with excessive care, he removed some flakes of material encrusted near the handle and put them in a test tube. He took a swab, moistened it in a bottle, swiped it along part of the hook, then sealed the swab in another test tube. He repeated this process with several of the knives, handles, and blades, each swab going into its own tiny test tube. Then, using an eyedropper, he added reagents to each tube. Only the first tube turned color.
He straightened up. "How unusual." Just as swiftly as the equipment had appeared, it disappeared back into the leather kit, which was folded, zipped up, and tucked back in the suit.
Pendergast smoothed and patted down his suit, and folded his hands in front. Everyone was staring at him. "Yes?" he asked innocently.
"Mr. Pendergast," said Hayward, "if it isn't too much trouble,would you mind sharing with us the fruits of your labors?"
"I'm afraid I've struck out rather badly."
"What a pity," said Hayward.
"You're familiar with Wade Davis, the Canadian ethnobotanist, and his 1988 book, Passage of Darkness: The Ethnobiology of the Haitian Zombie?"
Hayward continued glaring at him, saying nothing, her arms crossed.
"A most interesting study," said Pendergast, "I recommend it highly."
"I'll be sure to order it from Amazon," said Hayward.
"Davis's investigation showed, in essence, that a living person can be zombified by the application of two special chemicals, usually via a wound. The first, coup de poudre,has tetrodotoxin as its primary ingredient — the same toxin found in the Japanese delicacy fugu. The second involves a datura — like dissociative. A particular combination of these substances, applied in doses approaching the LD–50, can keep a person in a state of near — death for days, yet mobile, with minimal brain function and no independent will. In short, according to theory, with certain chemical compounds you can create an actual zombii."
"And you found these chemical compounds?" asked Hayward, in a clipped voice.
"That's the surprise. I did not — neither here, nor in independent tests I conducted while at the Ville. I must confess myself surprised — and disappointed."
She turned away brusquely. "Bring out the next batch of evidence. We've wasted enough time on this as it is."
"I did find, however," added Pendergast, "that human blood is present on that hook."
There was a silence.
D'Agosta grunted, turned to the evidence mummy. "I want a DNA test on that hook, run it through the databases, test for presence of human tissue as well. In fact, I want all these instruments tested for both human and animal blood. Make sure the handles are fingerprinted — I want a record of who handled them." He turned to Pendergast. "Got any idea what that crazy hook is for?"