Insolers' response was another curt nod.
"You took a very big chance in the car back out on the highway, mister," Veil said in a deceptively easygoing tone that was tinged with regret. "You were pretty convincing when you had that garrote around Mongo's neck, and you can't imagine how close I came to killing you."
Garth said, "This is what we get for listening to Mongo."
Insolers shrugged. "Big jobs require big risks, and there's no bigger job than running John Sinclair to ground. I simply couldn't think of any other way to do it."
I didn't so much actually see as sense a minute shift in the balance of the spread-eagled man standing next to me. Something was about to happen. And, despite all evidence to the contrary, not the least of which was the automatic rifle in the hands of the man standing across the room, I did not feel Duane Insolers was going to be with our little group much longer-unless I intervened, which I did. I had one big question to ask Insolers, and I wasn't going to get the answer if he was dead. Also, dead men's fingers can twitch, and that was all it would take to kill one or more of us.
I raised my right arm and put the back of my hand against Veil's stomach in what I hoped looked like a casual gesture. It was enough to stop him-for the moment.
"Explain something to me, Insolers," I said quickly. "John Sinclair has the knowledge, training, and mental skills to defeat that tasty truth tea Al gave us, but you don't. When Al questioned you, you did say that you'd come to help Sinclair. You didn't toss your cookies when you said it. It means you were telling the truth at the time, which makes it hard to understand what you're doing now. Care to comment?"
Insolers grunted, ejected the magazine from the rifle, dropped both it and the weapon on the floor. "Actually, there's nothing to explain. I was trying to make an impression on Mr. Sin-Jesus Christ!"
Veil and John Sinclair had moved as one, taking their right hands out of their armpits and flicking their wrists in a single motion so quick that I perceived the motion only as a blur out of the corner of my eye. An instant later, both the throwing knife I had given to Veil and a steel shuriken thudded into the wooden casing of the bookshelf behind Insolers, a weapon on either side of his head, both barely an inch from his ears. The blood drained from his face as he took a step forward, then turned and looked back at the two razor-sharp pieces of steel that could have been embedded in his skull.
"It looks like your luck is still holding, mister," Veil said to Insolers as he and Sinclair exchanged glances and approving nods.
"You can thank Mongo for the fact that you're still alive. That's twice he's saved your life in twenty-four hours. I hope you're going to remember him in your will."
Jan made a hissing sound of disgust, shook her head. "Duane, you're an idiot."
"You look a little shaky, Duane," Sinclair said with a wry smile. "You want a drink?"
The CIA's deputy director of operations shook his head. "No," he said, and swallowed hard. "Let's just all sit down. I have a few things to say to you, Sinclair."
Veil unceremoniously dragged Al's body out of sight behind the sofa. Then we all sat down, with Insolers sitting in a straight-backed chair, and the rest of us on the sofa.
"What just occurred could have happened differently, Sinclair," Insolers continued, "and I'm not referring to the fact that you or Kendry might have killed me. You could have taken a sniper's bullet in the brain while you were standing on your balcony or walking around the grounds. The fact of the matter is that I volunteered to come over here to kill you, because if I hadn't come they were going to send somebody else-somebody who would have gotten the job done. Black Flame wasn't the only outfit gradually closing the distance over the years. The agency has also been getting closer and closer to you every day, to uncovering the truth about a lot of things. After this Cornucopia thing in Switzerland went down, they used a computer to start combing through all your files one more time. This time they were taking another, very serious look at all the manipulations that went into the creation of our countess here, and her inheritance of R. Edgar Blake's castle and entire estate. Before too long, they're going to make all the right connections, and they're going to know that the story we made up to tell them is a lie. They already suspect it, and they strongly suspect a connection between you, Jan, and this castle. They wanted to send somebody over here to set up surveillance of this castle-somebody with expert sniper's skills to blow you away just in case you did happen to saunter into his sights. Like I said, I assigned myself to the job. In other words, Sinclair, the party's over. I can't go back unless I can say I've killed you, and offer some kind of convincing evidence. Otherwise, I'm blown. Now, you can certainly kill me as a partial solution to the problem, but I don't think you want to do that. Besides, they'll just send somebody else. You can close up shop here, but now I think they're going to concentrate on tracing and tracking Jan. If she doesn't go deep underground, which I don't think you want, she'll lead them to you. So if you two want to stay together, Chant Sinclair is going to have to die. I've gone to a lot of trouble, and taken considerable risks, to get myself into a position where I could not only deliver this message but make certain you took it seriously. So you're dead. Got it?"
Sinclair's response was to smile thinly, scratch his head. "You do make a strong argument, Duane. I've got it."
Insolers nodded, relief clearly evident on his face. "You died here last night. You managed to kill off these Black Flame members, but you and Jan died with them. If we blow up the castle with all the bodies in it, there's no reason for the agency not to believe the report I give them. I may even say I blew it up. Whatever. It will work as long as you don't one day decide to go back into business."
Sinclair put his arm around Jan, pulled her close to him. "It sounds like a good plan, Duane," he said easily.
Jan smiled at the man with the piercing gray eyes. "Does this mean we're going to be able to live like normal human beings?"
"It looks that way, my dear. If Duane gets the rest of it right."
Harper said, "Black Flame is part of the rest of it. What about the rest of them, Mr. Insolers?"
"I'll do what I said I would, Harper. My guess is that within a week Black Flame will no longer exist; their operations will be shut down, their members and associates arrested or killed, and their finances confiscated."
I cleared my throat. "I'll want to deal with Emmet P. Neuberger personally."
"You've got it. I'll put Frederickson and Frederickson on the CIA payroll as temporary consultants, and you and your brother can not only take care of your business with Neuberger but watch over my shoulder while I take care of the rest of it. Agreed?"
I nodded. When Insolers looked at Sinclair, he nodded.
"Good," Insolers continued. "Now, it's going to take me some time to make arrangements to bring in enough explosives to blow this place up, so I suggest that-"
"It's already been taken care of," Sinclair said. "There's enough C-5 planted in strategic places in the walls to bring the entire structure down. The wiring is in place as well, and all that has to be done is to connect it to a detonator and timer." He must have seen the surprised look on all our faces, for he paused for a few moments, looked at each of us in turn, then continued, "I always knew I would have to retire someday, and this seems as good a time as any. I also knew that one day somebody might connect me to Jan and this castle. Just as in Duane's plan, the plastique was put in place to cover our escape and make it appear as if we'd died in the explosion."