I walked up the stairs after the two men, and when we reached the door to Garth's apartment on the third-floor landing I paused and held out my hand to the film director. "I'll say good night, folks. Lucas, keep up the good work."
"Mongo, I'd like to talk to you too."
"Sure," I said, and followed him in as Garth held the door open.
We went into the living room. Tremayne and I sat at opposite ends of the sofa while Garth made drinks at the bar and brought them to us. Tremayne set his aside untouched. "I was talking to Carl Beauvil this afternoon, Garth," he said quietly. The vaguely accusatory tone had returned to his voice. "We were together at a fund-raising event for Haitian refugees. He told me what happened in Spring Valley, and he told me what the two of you are up to."
Garth grunted. "That detective certainly is a talkative chap. The last thing he mentioned to us was that we shouldn't even admit to ever being in Spring Valley, much less discuss what happened while we were there."
"Carl is Haitian, you know," Tremayne said, turning to me and fixing me with his gray eyes. His expression was now somber.
"I'd assumed as much."
"He and I go back a ways, ever since I moved to Cairn with my family a few years ago. We've worked together closely on a number of projects. He trusts me, which is why he told me what he did. He knows what he said would be held in confidence. He didn't know your brother and I are friends. What you told him disturbed him a great deal."
Garth turned in his chair to look at me. "Lucas is extremely active in the Haitian community on behalf of refugees, Mongo. He lends his name and prestige to their cause. He's also a noted collector of Haitian art."
"I see," I said in a neutral tone. I was beginning to understand why the film director's sudden appearance on our stoop had made my brother uncomfortable.
Tremayne cleared his throat, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, and clasped his hands together. "Garth, Carl tells me you and Mongo have been working on this Haiti investigation for months. I can't believe you didn't mention it to me."
"There are a number of very good reasons, Lucas," my brother replied evenly.
"You know how I feel about Haiti and Haitians, and the oppression they've suffered for so long. You also know how hard I've worked on their behalf. I've always suspected the CIA was involved in things over there right up to their slimy eyeballs, all the way back to Papa Doc and his Ton-ton Macoutes. Christ, I never dreamed anybody would ever actually try to prove it and do something about it. I want to help."
"There's nothing for you to do, Lucas."
"No? I'll bet I know a hell of a lot more Haitians than you do."
"That's one of the reasons I didn't say anything to you. Mongo and I don't want what we're doing to be widely advertised."
"I can be discreet."
"It's dangerous business, Lucas."
"Do I come off as a coward to you?"
"Hardly. But that's not the point. No matter how discreet you may be, asking questions about the CIA and the former rulers of Haiti would be sure to attract the attention of the wrong people. You have more than yourself to worry about. Your wife and children live in Cairn, and you have a very busy career to attend to. These people we're after take no prisoners. The man who was murdered in Spring Valley was a potential informer. The CIA knew that, and their people got to him one step ahead of us. He was killed not only to silence him, but also to send out a message to other Haitians who might be willing to give us information. There's a kind of voodoo hit squad out there, and the Spring Valley man was their sixth victim. Part of the idea is to spread terror in the Haitian community. If you get into the act, these people would be delighted to kill you. Murdering a famous Hollywood director well known for his commitment to Haitian causes would be a perfect way to permanently scare off remaining potential witnesses who otherwise might be persuaded to testify before any congressional committees that may decide to hold hearings as a result of our report. If Detective Beauvil provided you with any details about this murder, then you know these people do bad things to the bodies of their victims, before and after death. It would haunt your wife and kids for the rest of their lives. I didn't say anything to you because I knew what your reaction would be, and there was-is-no reason to put you in harm's way."
Lucas Tremayne had gone slightly pale, but his voice was steady when he said, "You and Mongo don't look any the worse for wear, and you've been working on this for half a year."
"Mongo and I do this sort of thing for a living. We're armed to the teeth, and we're constantly surveying our surroundings and thinking about our safety, not scripts and camera angles. Also, we enjoy a kind of limited professional immunity. Kill you, and the publicity focus would be on your links to Haiti and how the generals or ex-Ton-ton Macoutes or Fraph finally gave you some payback. It would scare Haitians. Kill us, and the focus would be on what we were doing that got us killed-namely investigating the CIA's links to Haiti. We keep backup copies of all our files and records in a safe deposit box that we feed every night. Our murders would seriously piss off a lot of important people, and get lots of publicity that would result in a lot of investigative reporting. That scares the CIA; they want to head us off at the pass, not have the mountain fall on them. Publicity about them is precisely what they're trying to avoid. Besides, Lucas, the issue is moot. We're finished with our field work. Now it's just a matter of tying together what we've got and writing up our report."
"I hear what you're saying," Tremayne said quietly. "But there still must be some way I can be useful. You need somebody to answer your phone? Type up the report?"
Garth glanced at me and raised his eyebrows slightly, then set his drink down and got up from his chair. "Excuse me for a couple of minutes."
My brother left the room, and Lucas Tremayne and I stared at each other. Finally I said, "Making that last film of yours was a gutsy thing to do. Its subject isn't exactly a favorite topic of conversation. If it hadn't been the success it was, it could have seriously damaged your career."
The film director shrugged, smiled thinly. "I do what I can for people and causes I care about-just like you and Garth do. All I did was make a movie on a controversial subject nobody wants to talk about. I think what you're doing is incredibly gutsy, and I'm not sure I buy what Garth told me about your professional immunity. You've surely been in danger from the first day you started working on this project."
"Oh, I'm sure the company would be delighted if we fell off a cliff or got run over by a truck-just as long as it didn't point to them. But we're being well paid for the risk."
"I don't believe you're doing it for money."
He had that right. Diddling the CIA, or trying to, was a labor of love-but for reasons that had to remain secret. "Garth meant no disrespect by not mentioning this Haiti investigation to you."
"I understand, Mongo."
"I mean no disrespect either, but Beauvil really had no business discussing this with a civilian. Whatever his feelings or reasons, he could have put you at risk. Do you understand why you should keep all this to yourself? You shouldn't even discuss this with your family-especially not with your family."
Tremayne colored slightly, but he didn't protest. Finally he nodded at me and flashed a grin. "I've been following your exploits for some time-even before Garth and I became friends. You're quite a celebrity yourself."
"Yeah. You think the world is ready for a big-budget film about a dwarf private detective? I see Schwarzenegger in the lead, with maybe DeVito playing Garth."
He laughed. "I think it's a wonderful idea. I'm going to pitch it to Arnold and Danny the next time I see them."