Pendergast shrugged. “My work at the FBI has taken me into several — shall we say — exotic areas of investigation. But let me answer a question with a question: if Americans had any idea how thorough, comprehensive, and well organized the M-LOGOS database was — and how much information the government possessed on American citizens in good standing — what do you think the response would be?”

“But they won’t know, will they? Because such a revelation would be a treasonous act.”

Pendergast inclined his head. “I’m not interested in revelations. I’m interested in a single person.”

“I see. And I take it that you’d like us to find this individual in the M-LOGOS database.”

Pendergast crossed his legs and leveled his gaze at General Galusha. He said nothing.

“Since you know so much, you must also know that access to M-LOGOS is highly restricted. I just can’t open it up to any agent who walks in… even one as intrepid as you seem to be.”

Still Pendergast did not speak. His sudden silence, after such an extended soliloquy, seemed to irritate Galusha.

“I’m a busy man,” he said.

Pendergast recrossed his legs. “General, please confirm that you have the authorization to grant — or not grant — my request without involving others.”

“I do, but I’m not going to play games with you. There’s no way in hell I’m going to grant such a request.”

Again Pendergast let the silence build, until Galusha frowned again. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I think we’re done here.”

“No,” said Pendergast simply.

Galusha’s eyebrows went up. “No?”

With a smooth motion, Pendergast removed a document from his suit jacket and laid it on the desk.

Galusha looked at it. “What the hell — this is my résumé!”

“Yes. Very impressive.”

Galusha stared at him with narrowed eyes.

“General, I can see that you are basically a good officer, loyal to his country, who has served with real distinction. For that reason I truly regret what I am about to do.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I’d like you to answer another question: why did you feel the need to lie?”

A long silence.

“You served in Vietnam. You won a Silver Star, a Bronze Star, and two Purple Hearts. You rose through the ranks by ability alone — nobody helped you. And yet it’s all built on a lie, because you never matriculated from the University of Texas as you state on your résumé. You don’t have a college degree. You dropped out the last semester of your senior year. Which means you weren’t eligible for OCS. Astonishing that no one checked this before. How did you do it? Get into OCS, I mean.”

Galusha rose, his face almost purple. “You’re a low-life bastard.”

“I’m not a bastard. But I am an exceedingly desperate man who will do anything to get what he wants.”

“And what is it you want?”

“I fear to ask. Because now, having met you, I sense you are a man with enough integrity to resist succumbing to the blackmail scheme I had in mind. I believe you will probably go down in flames rather than provide me access to that database.”

A long silence. “You’re damn right about that.”

Pendergast could see that Galusha was already mastering himself, adjusting to the awful news, steeling himself for what was to come. It was his bad luck to find a man like Galusha in this position.

“Very well. But before I leave, I’m going to tell you why I’m here. Ten years ago, my wife died most horribly. Or so I thought. But now I’ve learned she is alive. I have no idea why she hasn’t revealed herself to me. Perhaps she’s being coerced, held against her will. Perhaps she is otherwise kept in thrall. Whatever the case, I must find her. And M-LOGOS is the best way.”

“Do your worst, Mr. Pendergast, but I will never give you access to that database.”

“I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to check it yourself. If you find her, just let me know. That’s all. I want no confidential information. Just a name and location.”

“Or you will expose me.”

“Or I will expose you.”

“I won’t do it.”

“Consider this decision with great care, General. I’ve already researched the probable outcome: you will lose your position, be busted down a grade, and very likely discharged. Your distinguished military career will be reduced to a lie. Your honorable career will become an uncomfortable subject in your family, never to be discussed. You will return to civilian life too late for any real redemption or second career, and many of the avenues open to retired army officers will now be closed to you. You will be forever defined by that lie. It’s terribly unfair: we’re all liars, and you’re a far better man than most. The world is an ugly place. Long ago I stopped struggling against that fact and accepted I was part of that ugliness. It made everything so much easier. If you don’t do what I ask, which will harm no one and will help another human being, you will quickly discover just how ugly the world can be.”

Galusha stared at Pendergast, and there was so much sadness and self-reproach in those eyes the agent almost winced. Here was a man who had already seen a great deal of life’s underbelly.

When the general spoke again, his voice was barely a whisper. “I’ll need your wife’s personal information to conduct the search.”

“I’ve brought a wealth of information.” Pendergast removed a folder from his jacket. “In here you will find DNA data, handwriting samples, medical history, dental X-rays, distinguishing marks, physical characteristics, and more. She’s alive somewhere in the world — please find her for me.”

Galusha reached out to the file, as if it were something loathsome, but he could not quite bring himself to take it. The hand remained poised in midair, trembling.

“I have an incentive for you, as well,” Pendergast went on. “A certain acquaintance of mine possesses unusual computer skills. He will adjust the files at the University of Texas to give you that BA, cum laude, which you would have been awarded had your father not died, forcing you to drop out in your last semester.”

Galusha bowed his head. Finally his veined hand grasped the file.

“How long?” Pendergast said, his voice almost a whisper.

“Four hours, maybe less. Wait here. Speak to no one. I’ll handle this myself.”

Three and a half hours later the general returned. His face was gray, collapsed. He laid the file on the table and took a seat, the chair scraping slowly, moving like an old man. Pendergast remained very still, watching him.

“Your wife is dead,” said Galusha wearily. “She must be. Because all trace of her vanished ten years ago. After…” He raised his tired eyes to Pendergast. “After she was killed by that lion in Africa.”

“It’s not possible.”

“I’m afraid it’s not only possible but almost inevitable. Unless she’s living in North Korea or certain parts of Africa, Papua New Guinea, or one of a very few other highly isolated places in the world. I know all about her now — and about you, Dr. Pendergast. All records pertaining to her, all threads, all lines of evidence, come to an end in Africa. She is dead.”

“You’re mistaken.”

“M-LOGOS doesn’t make mistakes.” Galusha pushed the folder back at Pendergast. “I know you well enough now to be confident you’ll keep your end of the bargain.” He took a deep breath. “So the only thing left to say is good-bye.”

CHAPTER 39

Black Brake swamp, Louisiana

NED BETTERTON TOOK THE HANDKERCHIEF from his pocket and wiped his forehead for what seemed the hundredth time. He was wearing a loose T-shirt and Bermuda shorts, but he hadn’t expected the swamp air to be this suffocating so late in the year. And the tight gauze bandage around his bruised knuckles felt as hot as a damn rotisserie chicken.