The Placebo Effect by David Rotenberg Page B

setting late autumn sun.
    He caught his reflection in the window and said to it, “He’s our new one—I can feel it.”
    The light on the squawk box on his desk blinked. Henry-Clay liked the look of old technology; it made him feel that he was the direct descendant of all the other great capitalists going all the way back to the robber barons. He pushed a button on the old thing.
    â€œYeah?”
    â€œMr. MacMillan is on the line, sir.”
    He checked his watch. Right on time, as usual.
    â€œGood. Patch him through.” He loved saying that.
    Henry-Clay quickly gave MacMillan Decker Roberts’ flightdetails. “I know you had men on him, but I want you to follow him personally, Mr. MacMillan. This is our new boy, Mr. MacMillan, and I want to know everything, and I mean everything , about him.”
    Henry-Clay smiled. He felt like he was steering a great ship—he liked steering the ship. It had always been his experience that motion was better than stillness. Motion solved problems. Motion made money.

12
MAC
    MAC TOOK NO CHANCES. HE’D BEEN WAITING AT THE CLEVELAND airport just in case Roberts made the last connection to Toronto.
    When Decker entered the departure lounge, Mac turned on his tiny video camera. He lifted his copy of USA Today to cover his face, although he thought it unlikely that Decker Roberts had any idea that he was being followed—and had been followed by Mac’s men from the moment that Henry-Clay Yolles had told him of Decker Roberts’ existence.

13
MIKE AT DECKER’S HOUSE
    SO MANY CHURCHES AND RIGHT AROUND THE CORNER from Decker’s house. They must have known—they must have felt the evil a long time ago. Mike could feel it. So many churches and other religious buildings on Annette, Runnymede, and Dundas. He’d memorized the names, and as he prepared to spend his third night waiting for Decker he recited them—as if he were saying the rosary: Keele Street Christian Church, St. Cecilia’s Catholic Church, High Park Korean United Church, Vida Abundante Igreja Pentecostal Portuguesa, Czechoslovak Baptist Church, Church of the Nazarene, the Sharing Place, Gracia de Dios Iglesia Cristiana del Nazareno, Runnymede Presbyterian Church, St. James Catholic Church. Then again and again as darkness took the city and Mike wondered if he was strong enough to withstand another night out in the cold. But he had to. He had to be there when Decker got back from wherever he was. He had to warn Decker.
    Warn him that he was going to be used by the Enemy—as he had been used.
    The Enemy had found us and now was using us.
    He looked around, worried that he had spoken out loud. And there were a lot of dogs on Decker’s street. He liked dogs—all dogs—but some dogs didn’t like him. Then there was Decker’s motion-sensitive porch light. He had to avoid that. He had to remember that light.
    He curled up behind the recycle bin in the alley at the side of Decker’s house. There was a steam pipe there that gave off some heat. He got as close to it as he could. Then he began to recite hisrosary again: Keele Street Christian Church, St. Cecilia’s Catholic Church, High Park Korean United Church, Vida Abundante Igreja Pentecostal Portuguesa, Czechoslovak Baptist Church, Church of the Nazarene, the Sharing Place, Gracia de Dios Iglesia Cristiana del Nazareno, Runnymede Presbyterian Church, St. James Catholic Church and on and on into the night.
    Just past one in the morning Decker walked from his cab toward his turn-of-the century house in the Junction. Twenty seconds later Mac parked his car and put a stub of a cigar in the corner of his mouth. He settled in to watch. Mac was good at watching.
    Mike heard first one car, then another pull up in front of Decker’s house. He hunched back into the shadows and prayed that it was Decker. He was so cold and things were getting mixed up in his head. He saw a man get out of a cab and