The Sinner: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel

cases. No bullet fragments found in any of the victims. They did report that several of the corpses had fractured skulls, so they assumed the victims were all clubbed to death while they slept.”
    “That’s what I would assume, too.”
    “So how do we explain the birds? Surely those crows didn’t just sit on that roof, waiting for someone to climb up there and whack them over the head with a stick.”
    “I don’t know what you’re getting at. What do dead birds have to do with this?”
    “They have everything to do with it. They weren’t clubbed, and they weren’t shot.”
    Victor gave a snort. “Smoke inhalation?”
    “By the time that village was torched, the birds were already dead. Everything was dead. Birds. Livestock. People. Nothing moving, nothing breathing. It was a sterilized zone. All life was wiped out.”
    He had no response.
    Rizzoli leaned forward, getting right into his face. “How much did Octagon Chemicals donate to your organization this year, Dr. Banks?”
    Victor lifted the cup of water to his lips and took his time sipping it.
    “How much?”
    “It was in the . . . tens of millions.” He looked at Crowe. “I could use a refill of water, if you don’t mind.”
    “Tens of millions?” said Rizzoli. “Why don’t you try eighty-five million dollars?”
    “That could be right.”
    “And the year before that, they gave you nothing. So what changed? Did Octagon suddenly develop a humanitarian conscience?”
    “You should ask them.”
    “I’m asking you.”
    “I really would like some more water.”
    Crowe sighed, picked up the empty cup, and walked out. Only Rizzoli and Victor were left in the room now.
    She leaned even closer, a frontal assault on his comfort zone. “It’s all about that money, isn’t it?” she said. “Eighty-five million dollars is one hell of a big payoff. Octagon must have had a lot to lose. And you obviously have a lot to gain, by cooperating with them.”
    “Cooperating in what?”
    “Silence. Keeping their secret.”
    She reached for another file folder and tossed it on the table in front of him.
    “That was a pesticide factory they were operating. Just a mile and a half away from Bara village, Octagon was storing thousands of pounds of methyl isocyanate in their plant. They closed down that plant last year, did you know that? Right after the village of Bara was attacked, Octagon abandoned that factory. Just packed up all their personnel and bulldozed the plant. Fear of terrorist attack was their official explanation. But you don’t really believe that, do you?”
    “I have nothing more to say.”
    “It wasn’t a massacre that destroyed the village. It wasn’t a terrorist attack.” She paused. Said, quietly: “It was an industrial catastrophe.”

T WENTY
     
    V ICTOR SAT UNMOVING . Not looking at Rizzoli.
    “Does the name ‘Bhopal’ mean anything to you?” she asked.
    It was a moment before he responded. “Of course it does,” he said softly.
    “Tell me what you know about it.”
    “Bhopal, India. The Union Carbide accident in nineteen-eighty-four.”
    “Do you know how many people died in that event?”
    “It was . . . in the thousands, I believe.”
    “Six thousand people,” she said. “The Union Carbide pesticide plant accidentally released a toxic cloud that rolled over the sleeping town of Bhopal. By the next morning, six thousand were dead. Hundreds of thousands were injured. With so many survivors, so many witnesses, the truth couldn’t be hidden. It couldn’t be suppressed.” She looked down at the photo. “The way it was in Bara.”
    “I can only repeat myself. I wasn’t there. I didn’t see it.”
    “But I’m sure you can guess what happened. We’re just waiting for Octagon to release a list of their employees at that plant. One of them is eventually going to talk. One of them is going to confirm it. It’s the night shift, and some overworked employee gets careless. Or he falls asleep at the switch, and poof! Up goes a cloud of poisonous gas, to be carried off by the wind.” She paused. “Do you know what acute exposure to methyl isocyanate does to the human body, Dr. Banks?”
    Of course he knew. He had to know. But he didn’t answer her.
    “It’s corrosive, and just touching it can burn your skin. So imagine what it does to the lining of your airways, your lungs, when you breathe it in. You begin to cough, and your throat hurts. You feel dizzy. And then you can’t catch your breath, because the