Page 94 of The Cabinet of Dr. Leng

D’Agosta couldn’t help but laugh. “Armstrong, I went back to 1880.I saw Constance.She lives in a mansion and she’s running around posing as a goddamned duchess.”

Coldmoon swallowed. His mouth had gone dry, and he moistened it with some beer. “So what does he want you to do?”

“There’s this doctor named Leng. Enoch Leng. He’s the one who kidnapped and killed Constance’s older sister. You know Constance—she probably plans to rip the balls off Leng and feed them back to him with a little beurre blanc.”

Coldmoon grimaced. He’d never been able to shake the image of Constance, covered in dirt and blood, walking calmly out of a haze of machine-gun smoke, leaving behind a charnel house of dead bodies. “Yeah. I can see that. So he wants to stop her?”

“No,” said D’Agosta. “He wants to make sure she’s successful. Leng’s the one man in the world,anyworld, you don’t want to cross swords with. So Pendergast is trying to help her without her knowing about it—and he asked me to be his partner.”

“Jesus.How much does your wife know about this?”

“Nothing. All she knows is I’m taking time off to help Pendergast with some private problem. She wanted to go on a vacation with me…we’re having kind of a rough patch. And she doesn’t much like Pendergast, thinks he’s a bad influence, that helping him is liable to get me killed. I wouldn’t tell her what we’re up to, so she got really pissed off and went to her mother’s.”

“She’s got good reasons.”

D’Agosta smiled mirthlessly. “The thing is, I owe Pendergast. But I owe Laura, too. The idea of going back there…” He paused. “Pendergast didn’t mince words. There’s a decent chance we won’t make it back. I just don’t know what to do. I still haven’t decided.”

There was a silence that stretched on before Coldmoon spoke. “This is one problem nobody can advise you on. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” D’Agosta said. “Shit.”

“Pendergast hates relying on others. He’d never ask such a thing unless it was truly necessary.”

D’Agosta nodded slowly.

In the long silence, Coldmoon realized something: for all his show of agonized indecision, deep down D’Agosta had already made up his mind. And that meant, as a friend, the best thing he could do was reassure him and speed him on his way.

“I should also point out,” Coldmoon said slowly, “Pendergast askedyou. Not me. Not anyone else. It’s a big ask…but how can you turn him down?”

“Right.”

Coldmoon stood up to leave. “I gotta go pack.”

“Watch your ass in Ecuador,” D’Agosta replied. “And don’t worry about this end—I’ve got Wybrand up to speed already.”

“Next round’s on me,” Coldmoon said. “We should both have some interesting stories to tell.”

D’Agosta nodded.

“I’m headed uptown,” said Coldmoon. “Walk you to the subway station?”

“No. Thanks,” D’Agosta said. He pulled out his phone. “I’ve got to compose an email to Laura, telling her I’m gonna be out of range for a bit. Piss her off even more.”

Coldmoon paused to rest a firm hand on D’Agosta’s shoulder. “Ta?yá? ománi, partner,” he said. Then he turned and made his way out of the bar and into the warmth of the evening.

60

MARY SAT AT THEwriting table and drew a creamy sheet of paper to her. Taking up the gold fountain pen lying to one side, she dipped it into a pot of blue ink and, with great care, began penning a letter to Constance. Her tongue pressed against her upper lip in concentration as she formed the cursive letters, one by one, trying not to make a blot, and agonizing over her spelling. She wanted the letter to be perfect, for the doctor to be proud of it, and for little Constance to be inspired by her big sister, so that one day the girl would write far more beautifully than she could.

Was it really just yesterday that she’d at last awakened—awakened fully—to find herself in Dr. Leng’s care? She still had periods of drowsiness, but she was able to get up and move around the room now without dizzy spells. Mary felt a rush of gratitude to the doctor, who just that day had told her he’d managed to place Constance and Joe—whom a judge of his acquaintance had ordered released from Blackwell’s—in the home of a childless couple blessed with wealth, and that they could go back to school. She was disappointed she couldn’t see them right away, but of course she understood they had to settle into their new lives first. And naturally, she had to get well. But it wouldn’t be long, the doctor had promised. None of it would take long.

Dearest Binky,

I was So Happey to hear You & Joe are safe & Off the Streets. The Doctor has been so kind he is an Angle sent from Hevven. I am feeling beter but for Faintness the Doctor says will go way soon.

The Doctor treets me very well & gave me a Nice Room in his own hous only on acct of my illness I cant have any windows for feer of the city air. But I am mending every day. Meen while it is warm & the Bed is Soft. The wall-papper is red velvet & there are pichurs of horses and dogs.

O Binkie I cant wait to see You & I am cownting days to Janry 7—when the Doctor thinks that I can come visit You & Joe.

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