“You bet your ass I can. I’m going to add some men to his guard detail, and I’m coming up there myself, first thing in the morning.”

“First thing” means different things to different people. New Orleans is three hours south of Natchez, but Kaiser sounds like the crack-of-dawn type to me. Before I can ask for clarification, he says, “If Walker Dennis is bent, or he has a mole in his department, the discovery of those bones in the Jericho Hole might have triggered Henry’s beating.”

“Couldn’t it just as easily have been Henry’s interviews with Glenn Morehouse and Viola Turner?”

“Of course. Can you keep something absolutely between us?”

“Absolutely.”

“Morehouse died of an overdose of fentanyl, which he was taking by prescription. But the dose was too high to have come from his patch, or even two of them. He was murdered, no question.”

Kaiser’s openness is startling after years of dealing with closemouthed FBI agents. “I figured as much. One thing strikes me as strange. Henry described his assailants as being between twenty and thirty years old. That doesn’t sound like Double Eagles to me.”

“All those bastards had sons and grandsons. Keep an open mind as we move forward.”

I’m surprised to hear Kaiser use the plural pronoun. “What’s your idea of moving forward?”

“Getting the rest of those bones up, ASAP.”

My heart is pumping faster. “How are you going to do that?”

“I’m not sure yet, but I’ve got a couple of ideas. The Double Eagles have crossed the line this time. I’m coming up there loaded for bear.”

Kaiser doesn’t talk like most FBI agents I’ve worked with. Around laymen, Bureau people tend to speak like fighter pilots and accountants—without emotion. “Agent Kaiser, I’m going to take a shot in the dark here. I think my family may be in as much danger as Henry Sexton was. I believe Brody Royal and the Double Eagles have threatened us, to make my father take the blame for a murder they committed. Are you with me?”

“Keep going.”

“I don’t exactly have a private army up here. I was wondering whether you might be able to protect my father as a federal witness. I believe my dad knows who murdered Albert Norris, and probably Dr. Leland Robb and three other people as well.”

Kaiser grunts but offers nothing.

“And this may sound crazy,” I add, “but Dad might also have information about the major assassinations of the 1960s. A man named Brody Royal definitely does. Do you know that name?”

“I know who Royal is. He barely evaded prosecution in a state insurance fraud case.”

“That’s the one. I think if you could assure my father that our family is safe, he could help you quite a bit.”