Brian glared at Val
and me. “You’re not welcome here.” He tried to close Feret’s office door, but I kicked out and bounced it open.
“I think you want to hear what we have to say.” I pushed him out of the way.
Feret looked up from his desk and sighed. “What are you two doing in
Venice
? We have so much to do, and no time to worry about your suspensions. You’re trespassing.”
“Guilty as charged.” I stared at him. “Guilty like you.”
He put down his pen. “Of what, might I ask?”
“Murder,” I said.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Brian said. “Mr. Morgan and Ms. Blake were our dear friends, and we are totally devastated by their passing.”
“Save the theatrics, Brian,” I said. “Your boss here just told your new order planning team that Archie and Ann’s deaths were the direct result of their refusal to share the truths with Soul Identity members.”
“Do you dispute my statement?” Feret asked.
“Not at all,” I said. “You’re deadly accurate. I just want to understand what ‘direct result’ means.”
He stared at me for a moment before answering. “Mr. Morgan and Ms. Blake paid the ultimate price for their refusal to support our new order.”
“And who charged that price?” I asked.
Feret shrugged. “They either died of shock when they realized they were wrong, or a higher power took their lives.”
“Maybe it was two little white pills in their champagne glasses,” I said.
Feret waved his hand as if brushing away a fly. “Mere conjecture on your part.”
“Your video shows Brian correcting your choice of glasses,” Val said. “It looks premeditated.”
Feret shrugged. “It is an interesting theory.”
“Is it true?” I asked.
He stared at me. “Does it really matter? As you told your friends at Ms. Blake’s house, I hold all the cards.”
“You do,” I said. “But can you tell the real cards from the jokers?”
He smiled. “All right, I’ll show you what I’ve got. I’m holding the executive overseer and depositary chief positions, a delivery man who can never be fired, an overseer ring, and several thousands of loyal and even fanatical members.”
Brian smirked. “Sounds like a royal flush to me.”
“Are you sure about the ring?” I asked. “I’m guessing you swiped it from Archie’s finger when he collapsed.”
Feret reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring. “Where do you get your strange ideas? Mr. Morgan himself gave this to me on Friday morning.”
I nodded at Brian. “Did your coffee boy and new depositary chief verify it for you?”
Brian rolled his eyes and spoke in a bored voice. “Seven sided crystal, each side having five prongs—of course it’s real.”
“And what does it project?” Val asked.
Brian shrugged. “The Soul Identity logo.”
“That’s right, Brian.” I paused. “But does it?”
“Duh,” Brian said. “Mr. Morgan showed us just yesterday morning.”
“Right,” I said. “When he gave you the ring.”
Brian looked at Feret. “May I see the ring, sir?”
Feret handed it to him, and Brian pulled the shades almost shut. “Watch and learn.” A small shaft of light entered the room. He held the ring in the light and focused the image on the wall.
“There’s the projection,” Val said. “That’s not our logo.”
The projection showed some letters: s-d-o-o.”
I smiled. “It’s upside down.”
Brian flipped the ring over.
“How appropriate,” I said.
“I didn’t think the old man had it in him,” Feret said. He turned to me as Brian opened the shades. “I’ll admit I was devastated when I lost the ring ten years ago, but now I’m happy to say that my plans no longer rely on it.”
“Can you afford somebody else having it?” I asked.
“I’m the only overseer—the ring’s useless to others.”
“Good point,” I said. “Let’s see what other bum cards you’re holding. You said your delivery man cannot be fired—who is that?”
“It’s Bob, you ignorant man,” Brian said. “Don’t you remember the century party yesterday? What you don’t know is how long he’s been helping us.”
Val raised her eyebrows. “I think we all know that Bob is a centuriat, Brian. And we heard him declare for the new order. But why do you say that he can’t be fired?”
“Because that’s an inviolable rule!” Brian shouted. “You may not know this, but Soul Identity’s inviolable rules cannot be broken.”
“Really?” I asked. “How did the rule get enacted?”
“It takes an overseer ring to make an inviolable rule…” Brian’s voice trailed off.
“And it takes an overseer ring to reverse it.” I looked at Feret. “Did you ever wonder why Archie was carrying the ring yesterday? That rule is gone.”
Feret glared at Brian. “Inviolable rules can be overturned?”
Brian hung his head. “All the overseer rings were gone.”
“So you didn’t bother telling me?” Feret’s eyes narrowed.
Time to sink the weasel who twice tried to kill us.
“Don’t be so hard on your coffee boy,” I said to Feret. “After all, you already know his limitations.”
Brian growled and started toward me, but he stopped when Feret held up his hand.
“What limitations?” Feret asked.
I ticked them off on my fingers. “You’ve been waiting a few years now for him to get rid of Archie. He missed us when he blew up the guesthouse. He took orders from us over a chat session, thinking we were you.” I looked at Brian. “You didn’t know about that, did you?”
“That’s quite enough,” Feret said.
“I’m not done,” I said, holding up my hand. “Coffee boy does have one success—the palytoxin.” I nodded at Brian. “That was good, although it’s too bad we taped you dropping the tablets into the glasses.”
Feret turned to Brian. “How does he know about the palytoxin?” he asked in a calm but deadly tone.
Brian shook his head. “He must be guessing, sir. Those papers were kept safely in my—”
“Soul line collection,” I finished for him. “The other really nice feature of the overseer ring.” I smiled at Brian. “One more limitation to add to the list.”
“I learned a cool Latin quote on the flight over here,” Val said.
“
Adde parvum parvo magnus acervus erit
.
It’s from Ovid.”
“What’s it mean?” I asked.
“
Add a little to a little and there will be a great heap
,” Feret said. “I couldn’t agree more.”
“Final limitation, Brian,” I said. “Your coffee jokes suck.”
“I’ve had enough of this.” Brian jumped on me before I could get out of my chair, and I struggled to push him off. He went limp and I shoved him as hard as I could.
Brian fell backward onto the floor.
I wiped my face and looked at blood on my fingers. “You cut me, you little prick.”
Val shook her head and pointed, and I looked down at Brian. His wide eyes stared at the ceiling. He gave a gurgle, coughed up a mouthful of blood, and started shaking. He groaned, and the sound stuck in his throat for a long time before it faded away. Then he was still, his eyes unblinking.
Val and I turned to Feret when he cleared his throat. He held a small pistol in his left hand.
“Did you just shoot your coffee boy?” I asked.
Feret nodded. “
Ad vitam aut culpam
.”
I shot a glance at Val. She sat frozen, staring at Brian’s body.
Feret looked at his pistol. “Brian wasn’t totally useless. A seventeen caliber bullet coated in palytoxin is rather effective.” He tossed a handkerchief to me. “I am sorry about the little mess.”
I wiped off my face and fingers. “Aren’t you just digging yourself a deeper hole?”
“On the contrary, I’m filling in the holes.” Feret smiled. “Here is what I see. You two came to my office with proof that Brian poisoned Mr. Morgan and Ms. Blake. Together we confronted him, but he attacked you and Ms. Nikolskaya. I grabbed his gun and stopped him.” He stared at me. “The only question remaining is whether you two survived his attack.”
I cursed myself for not anticipating this kind of problem. We were only going to waltz in here and give Feret a false sense of success—not get ourselves shot while doing so.
I frowned. “I don’t think Brian was able to kill us.”
“Why not?” He aimed the pistol at me.
“Because if he had, I wouldn’t be able to stop the evidence from reaching the people investigating the deaths of Archie and Ann.” I was having a hard time keeping my voice steady with the pistol trained on me.
Feret wagged the pistol back and forth. “What evidence would they have?”
“Nothing direct, but quite a bit of circumstantial evidence that may make your life messy.” I stared at him. “Your video, for one, with your speech that predicts their demise, along with you changing glasses and refusing to drink from Archie’s.”
“I believe I could beat that video,” he said.
“You could if that was the only evidence that the investigators looked at,” I said. “But if they read your own story of revenge that you saved on your system, or went through your chat logs with Brian where you plotted my and Val’s deaths, they might think they had a shot of getting you convicted.”
“Or maybe they’d be interested in the match program,” Val said. “Tinless Tiksey has gotten over his scare of your threat to destroy his
gompa
, and would be only too happy to explain how you blackmailed him ten years ago.”
Feret shrugged. “Given their despicable activities, it will be child’s play to portray the lama as non-credible.”
“It’s moot, anyway,” I said. “Your match program, along with your overseer status, disappears in twenty minutes.”
That got his attention. He stared at me with his mouth open, then finally asked, “You would leave Soul Identity with no overseers?”
“No, that would be bad.” I smiled. “Arthur Berringer is more than willing to become executive overseer and fill the gap. Yesterday the match committee issued him a special card that works even without the eye you had poked out.” I shook my head. “No, Andre, I’m positive that Brian was unable to shoot us. His boss would have lost everything.”
Feret pursed his lips and stared at me for a minute. Then he nodded. “You are right, Mr. Waverly. A happy ending for both of us would be much better.”
Whew. But I couldn’t see any way this could end with both of us being happy.
“What do you have in mind?” I asked.
Feret smiled and put the pistol in his suit pocket. “Why not join me?”
“And be your coffee boy? No, but thanks anyway.”
“You both could become my partners.”
“Partners?” Val asked.
“Limited minority partners,” he said. “I’ve contributed most of the effort, after all.”
“Partners won’t work,” I said.
“Why not?” Feret’s eyes narrowed.
I was afraid he was going to reach into his pocket and pull out the gun, but I plowed ahead anyway. “I learned a couple of Latin phrases this morning, hoping that I’d get to use them. Here’s one—
nihil curo de ista tua stulta superstitione
.”
Feret laughed. “I’m not interested in my crazy cult either.”
I cocked my head to one side. “What do you mean?”
Feret walked around the desk and sat on its edge. “You said you have read my online papers?”
“Just your Raison d’Etre.”
“So you know that I am one hundred percent consumed with destroying Soul Identity.” He sneered. “But nobody knows how difficult these last ten years have been, working with these silly people who believe there is meaning in their soul lines. These people disgust me. They are pathetic.” He spat these words out.
“I’m missing something,” I said. “Haven’t you established a Soul Identity alternative?”
“I have. And a very successful alternative it is.”
“If these people disgust you, why are you helping them?”
“Helping them?” He smirked at me. “Helping them?” He started laughing. “I’m not helping them, Mr. Waverly. I’m using them. All that money coming out of Soul Identity—where do you think it goes?”
“You tell me,” I said.
His eyes were wild now. “The money all goes to me!” he shouted. “All of it. I give them false statements showing how much they’ve saved up for their future lives, and they are thrilled. Meanwhile I’m getting rich—very rich.”
I shook my head. “You’re doing all this because your father died?”
Feret jumped up, but then seemed to regain control. He sat back down. “Do not mention my father again,” he said in a very soft voice. “He was a saint, and Soul Identity killed both him and my mother.”
We had to stay alive and get Feret over to the meeting. I stared at the floor. “I’m sorry,” I said. “That was insensitive of me.”
Feret nodded. “Do not do it again,” he said. He walked behind his desk. “Now I must give my speech to our big meeting of fools. They’re waiting for me to tell them how wonderful they are, when in reality I wish they would hurry up and die.”