Page 16 of Angel of Vengeance
“Nevertheless,” Pendergast said, “the Riverside Drive mansion seems a logical place to keep her for the time being. It is well fortified against invasion.”
“Against invasion from those ignorant of its secrets, you mean,” responded Constance.
Pendergast turned to her. “You didn’t reveal anything to him? Perhaps in a moment of anger or frustration?”
Constance did not answer.
“Our knowledge of that mansion’s future, and what you know of Leng’s future, is our hole card.”
“I’m quite aware of that,” Constance said. “I betrayed nothing—because that mansion is where I plan to spend the coming days. I’ll penetrate it, establish a bunker from which I can come and go unobserved… and then search for Binky—as well as probe for a soft underbelly—alone.”
“What else did he say?”
“He spoke only for his own amusement. There’s no point repeating any more of it.”
“So you learned nothing that could be of use to us.”
Constance shook her head. “One of Leng’s gang members… opened himself up to me.”
“And?”
“He had little to offer.” She glanced from Pendergast to Diogenes, who was still seated. “And you two?”
“I, for one, have been conducting research.” He tossed aside the book he’d been perusing. Constance glanced at its spine: Puritanism and the Decline of the Reformation.
She turned back to Pendergast. “Tell me about Joe.”
“I put into motion the arrangements we discussed earlier. At this moment, Vincent and your brother should be approaching the Old Colony Railroad terminal in Boston, on their way to a ‘cottage’ on Mount Desert Island owned by the Rockefeller family. As you know, our family was once linked to them through shared business concerns, and when I hastily reached out to William—William Avery Jr., that is—he proved most cooperative.”
“But he doesn’t know you personally. Can he be trusted?”
“My dear Constance, you are correct to be on your guard. But you should know better than most that there exist certain fraternal bonds and secret societies that transcend time, money—everything except honor.” And, beckoning her closer for a moment, he briefly murmured the details.
Constance, reassured, allowed Diogenes to pour her a glass of brandy. She looked from one brother to the other. It was clear that, whether or not they agreed with her plan, they knew better than to object.
After a silence, Diogenes reached for his brandy. “While you were paying your social call, Aloysius and I spoke at length—and we agreed that a critical way to start undermining Fortress Leng is to cut off his supply of victims.”
“You once told me that, in order to test the new variants of his Arcanum, Leng would use a special, accelerated formulation on his human guinea pigs, in hope of success,” Pendergast said to Constance.
“Correct. Followed by an autopsy.”
“On those guinea pigs where his latest variant was unsuccessful?”
“Whether it was successful or not.”
“What?” Pendergast looked even more horrified.
“Once he stumbled on the working formula, he still dosed, and dissected, half a dozen or so ‘subjects’—to make sure there were no negative internal effects. Only then did he start taking it himself.”
There was a brief silence before Pendergast spoke again. “I assume he’ll employ this same accelerated formulation on the Arcanum, now in his possession. How long will it take him to be confident the formula works?”
Constance shrugged. “Hard to say.”
“Hard to say?” Diogenes replied, lifting an eyebrow. “You don’t remember?”
“I tried my best to suppress those memories,” Constance said with irritation, “and I don’t appreciate you scolding me for it.”
“Scolding? Merely trying to help.”