Ostrom slowed, glanced quizzically over his shoulder.

“I’m curious to learn whether her behavior, once you are out of the room, changes in any way, or if she will maintain the illusion of nonrecognition.”

“I see no problem with that,” Ostrom said. He stopped before a door — marked like the others only with a number — then knocked lightly.

“You may enter,” came the voice from within.

Ostrom unlocked the door, then ushered Felder and Esterhazy into a small windowless room. The only furniture was a bed, table, bookcase, and single plastic chair. A young woman sat at the chair, reading a book. She gazed up as the three entered.

Esterhazy looked at her curiously. He had wondered what Pendergast’s ward would look like — and was now well rewarded for his curiosity. Constance Greene was very — in fact extremely — attractive: thin and petite, with short dark mahogany hair and perfect porcelain skin and violet eyes that were alert and wise but oddly unfathomable. She looked from one man to the next. When she reached Esterhazy, she paused, but her expression did not change.

Esterhazy was not worried she might recognize him as Pendergast’s brother-in-law. Pendergast was not the kind of man to keep family portraits around the house.

“Dr. Ostrom,” she said, putting down her book and standing politely. Esterhazy noticed she had been reading Sartre’s Being and Nothingness. “And Dr. Felder, how delightful to see you again.”

Esterhazy was intrigued. Her movements, her pattern of speech, her very being seemed to echo an earlier, more dignified era. She could almost have been inviting them in for cucumber sandwiches and rose hip tea. She did not look at all like a crazed baby-killer locked in a mental ward.

“Please sit down, Constance,” Dr. Ostrom said. “We’ll only stay for a minute. Dr. Poole here happened to be in town and we thought you might like to see him.”

“Dr. Poole,” Constance repeated as she took her seat. She looked again at Esterhazy, a hint of curiosity kindling in her strange distant eyes.

“That’s correct,” said Felder.

“You have no recollection of me?” Esterhazy said, modulating his tone to one of benevolent concern.

Constance frowned slightly. “I’ve never had the pleasure of making your acquaintance, sir.”

“Never, Constance?” Now Esterhazy added the faintest trace of disappointment and pity to his voice.

She shook her head.

Through the corner of his eye, Esterhazy noticed Ostrom and Felder exchange a brief, significant glance. It was working out just as he’d hoped.

Constance looked at him rather more searchingly. Then she turned toward Ostrom. “What gave you the impression that I would like to see this gentleman?”

Ostrom colored slightly, nodded to Esterhazy.

“You see, Constance,” Esterhazy said, “I treated you once, years ago, at your, ah, guardian’s request.”

“You’re lying,” Constance said sharply, rising again. She turned to Ostrom once more, confusion and alarm now becoming evident in her expression. “Dr. Ostrom, I’ve never seen this man before in my life. And I would very much like you to remove him from the room.”

“I’m very sorry for the confusion, Constance.” Ostrom looked quizzically at Esterhazy. In return, Esterhazy indicated with a slight gesture that it was time to leave.

“We’ll be going now, Constance,” Felder added. “Dr. Poole has asked for a moment of your time alone. We’ll be right outside.”

“But—” Constance began, then fell silent. She shot a glance toward Esterhazy. He was momentarily taken aback by the hostility that freighted her gaze.

“Please be quick, Doctor,” Ostrom said as he unlocked and opened the door. He slipped outside, followed by Felder. The door closed again.

Esterhazy took a step back from Constance, dropped his hands to his sides, and adopted as nonthreatening a stance as possible. There was something about this girl that set off warning bells in his head. He would have to be careful — consummately careful.

“You’re right, Miss Greene,” he said, his voice low. “You’ve never met me before in your life. I’ve never treated you. That was all a deception.”

Constance just stared at him from behind the desk, suspicion radiating from her in tangible waves.

“My name is Judson Esterhazy. I’m Aloysius’s brother-in-law.”

“I don’t believe you,” Constance said. “He never mentioned your name.” Her voice was low and utterly neutral.

“That’s just like him, isn’t it? Listen, Constance. Helen Esterhazy was my sister. Her death in the jaws of that lion was probably the worst thing that ever happened to him — except maybe the deaths of his parents in the New Orleans fire. You surely know him well enough to know he is not one to speak of his past — especially a painful one like this. But he asked me to help — because I’m the only one he can really trust.”

Constance said nothing, merely staring at him from behind the desk.

“If you doubt me, here’s my passport.” He removed it, opened it for her. “Esterhazy’s not a common name. I knew Great-Aunt Cornelia, the poisoner, who lived in this very room. I’ve been to the family plantation, Penumbra. I’ve gone shooting in Scotland with Aloysius. What more proof do you need?”

“Why are you here?”

“Aloysius sent me here to help get you out of this place.”

“That makes no sense. He arranged for me to be here, and he knows I’m perfectly content.”

“You don’t understand. He didn’t send me here to help you — he sent me here because he needs your help.”

“My help?” Constance said.

Esterhazy nodded. “You see, he has made a terrible discovery. It seems his wife — my sister — didn’t die accidentally.”

Constance frowned.

Esterhazy knew that his best hope lay in keeping as close to the truth as possible. “Helen’s gun was loaded with blanks on the day of that lion hunt. And now Pendergast has embarked on a mission to find whoever was responsible. Only events have spiraled out of control. He can’t do this alone. He needs the help of those he trusts the most. That means me — and you.”

“What about Lieutenant D’Agosta?”

“The lieutenant was helping him. And got shot in the heart for his trouble. Not dead — but badly injured.”

Constance started visibly.

“That’s right. I told you events have spiraled out of control. Pendergast is in over his head, he’s in terrible danger. So I took the only steps I could to contact you. I pretended to have knowledge of you and… your case. Obviously it was all a ruse.”

Constance continued to stare at him. The hostility had largely disappeared, but uncertainty remained.

“I’m going to figure out a way to get you out of here. Meanwhile, please continue to deny knowing me. Or you could feign a growing recollection — whatever you feel more comfortable with. Just play along. All I ask is that you help me get you out of here. Because we’re almost out of time. Pendergast needs your quick mind, your instincts, your research skills. And every hour counts. You can’t imagine — and I haven’t the time at present to explain — the forces that are now arrayed against him.”

Constance continued staring, her face a mixture of suspicion, concern, and indecision. Better to leave her now, let her mull it all over. Esterhazy turned and rapped lightly on the door. “Dr. Ostrom? Dr. Felder? We can go now.”

CHAPTER 49

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina

THE EIGHTEENTH HOLE AT PALMETTO SPRAY GOLF LINKS was one of the most infamous on the East Coast: a par-5 five-hundred-and-sixty-yard drive with a wicked dogleg and half a dozen wide bunkers tightly bracketing the fairway.

Meier Weiss rolled his wheelchair up to the tee, plucked the blanket from his ruined legs, grabbed the crutches that hung from his golf bag, and hoisted himself up to a standing position, locking the joints on his leg braces. “Mind if I give some more advice?”