God knows, but Junie was far more balanced. More at peace with who and what she was. The same cannot be said of me.
“Bad night,” I said.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
“Couldn’t shut my head down.”
She kissed my shoulder.
The winds of morning kept tearing the clouds into gray and white tatters.
“Those kids?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Joe … I remember you once telling me that if the bad guy deals the play then he owns whatever happens. Those are your exact words.”
“Clever words, too. I should put them on my business cards.”
“Come on, Joe, what else could you have done? And don’t tell me that it’s not the point. We both know it is.”
“You’re quoting Rudy.”
“No, I’m not,” she said, and there was an edge of irritation in her voice. She was a smart and empathic woman, and it was unfair of me to say that she was cribbing lines from anyone else.
“Sorry. It’s just that Rudy’s been harping on me with that for a couple of weeks.”
“Maybe you should listen to one of us. I think it’s fair to say that he and I know you best. Okay, Rudy knows you better and longer than I do, but I know you, Joe. I do. And I know that sometimes you look for ways to beat yourself up over things that are beyond your control and aren’t your fault.”
“It’s more complicated than—”
She cut me off. “I know it’s more complicated than that. Of course it is. The life you live is extremely…” she fished for the right word, “… difficult . The things Mr. Church asks of you, the things you ask of yourself, not only push your body to dangerous limits, they constantly put you in situations where there is no good option, only options less terrible than others. I’ve seen that, Joe. I saw what you had to do to protect me the day we met, and what you had to do in order to save everyone from disaster. I saw it. Just as I saw the hurt in your eyes afterward.”
I said nothing. Her body was a warm anchor to a better world and I closed my eyes and concentrated on the feel of her arm and breast where they pressed against my side.
“The question, my sweet love,” she said softly, “isn’t whether you did something wrong. You didn’t. You couldn’t do anything other than what you did. No, the question is whether you need to go back to the fight. We both know that this kind of war won’t really end. Terrorism is a fact of our lives. It’ll be here forever because there will always be hatred in the world and technology has gotten so user-friendly that anyone can reach out through the Net to do harm or cook up something in a cheap lab. I spent years talking about this sort of thing on my podcast, and it’s not all conspiracy theories. This is our world.”
“I know, but…”
“But do you have to be the one to fight everyone’s battles, Joe?”
I said nothing. I didn’t dare, because I knew what my answer would be.
“Joe … listen to me. If you’re fighting because you’re afraid to stop fighting, then you’re fighting the wrong war. Maybe it’s time to stop.”
I watched the carrion bird circle high in the sky.
“Not yet,” I said.
Interlude Two
The Hangar
Floyd Bennett Field
Brooklyn, New York
Seven Years Ago
Miss Artemisia Bliss looked out the window. “Am I allowed to ask where we’re going?”
Midway through the interview Dr. Hu left the room to make a call, and when he returned he told her that they were going to take a drive. Without telling her anything else, he escorted her down to the lobby, where they were met by two very tall, very imposing men in dark suits. Hu knew that she was sharp enough to peg them as Secret Service or the equivalent. Outside, they got into a black Escalade that had a third man behind the wheel. The big car headed straight to the Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel.
Now they were in Brooklyn, heading west on I-278.
“Am I allowed to know where we’re going?” asked Miss Bliss.
“You’ll see,” said Hu.
She nodded, accepting the
“Bad night,” I said.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
“Couldn’t shut my head down.”
She kissed my shoulder.
The winds of morning kept tearing the clouds into gray and white tatters.
“Those kids?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Joe … I remember you once telling me that if the bad guy deals the play then he owns whatever happens. Those are your exact words.”
“Clever words, too. I should put them on my business cards.”
“Come on, Joe, what else could you have done? And don’t tell me that it’s not the point. We both know it is.”
“You’re quoting Rudy.”
“No, I’m not,” she said, and there was an edge of irritation in her voice. She was a smart and empathic woman, and it was unfair of me to say that she was cribbing lines from anyone else.
“Sorry. It’s just that Rudy’s been harping on me with that for a couple of weeks.”
“Maybe you should listen to one of us. I think it’s fair to say that he and I know you best. Okay, Rudy knows you better and longer than I do, but I know you, Joe. I do. And I know that sometimes you look for ways to beat yourself up over things that are beyond your control and aren’t your fault.”
“It’s more complicated than—”
She cut me off. “I know it’s more complicated than that. Of course it is. The life you live is extremely…” she fished for the right word, “… difficult . The things Mr. Church asks of you, the things you ask of yourself, not only push your body to dangerous limits, they constantly put you in situations where there is no good option, only options less terrible than others. I’ve seen that, Joe. I saw what you had to do to protect me the day we met, and what you had to do in order to save everyone from disaster. I saw it. Just as I saw the hurt in your eyes afterward.”
I said nothing. Her body was a warm anchor to a better world and I closed my eyes and concentrated on the feel of her arm and breast where they pressed against my side.
“The question, my sweet love,” she said softly, “isn’t whether you did something wrong. You didn’t. You couldn’t do anything other than what you did. No, the question is whether you need to go back to the fight. We both know that this kind of war won’t really end. Terrorism is a fact of our lives. It’ll be here forever because there will always be hatred in the world and technology has gotten so user-friendly that anyone can reach out through the Net to do harm or cook up something in a cheap lab. I spent years talking about this sort of thing on my podcast, and it’s not all conspiracy theories. This is our world.”
“I know, but…”
“But do you have to be the one to fight everyone’s battles, Joe?”
I said nothing. I didn’t dare, because I knew what my answer would be.
“Joe … listen to me. If you’re fighting because you’re afraid to stop fighting, then you’re fighting the wrong war. Maybe it’s time to stop.”
I watched the carrion bird circle high in the sky.
“Not yet,” I said.
Interlude Two
The Hangar
Floyd Bennett Field
Brooklyn, New York
Seven Years Ago
Miss Artemisia Bliss looked out the window. “Am I allowed to ask where we’re going?”
Midway through the interview Dr. Hu left the room to make a call, and when he returned he told her that they were going to take a drive. Without telling her anything else, he escorted her down to the lobby, where they were met by two very tall, very imposing men in dark suits. Hu knew that she was sharp enough to peg them as Secret Service or the equivalent. Outside, they got into a black Escalade that had a third man behind the wheel. The big car headed straight to the Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel.
Now they were in Brooklyn, heading west on I-278.
“Am I allowed to know where we’re going?” asked Miss Bliss.
“You’ll see,” said Hu.
She nodded, accepting the
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