Book of Souls

He’d always been able to offer Will a perfect blend of lawyerly concern and an ex-roommate’s ribbing. Will could imagine the worried expression of Zeck’s smooth face, and knew he was probably compulsively straightening out his crazy-kinky hair with his hand, something he’d always done when he was nervous.

“I’ve done something stupid.”

“So what else is new?”

“You know my secrecy agreement with the government?”

“Yeah?”

“I kind of stepped all over it.”

Zeck cut him short, transitioning into professional mode. “Look, say no more. We should meet to talk about it.”

“I was wondering if we could stay at your place in New Hampshire for a couple of days if you guys aren’t using it.”

“Of course you can.” Then he paused. “Will, is this line safe?”

“It’s a clean phone. I’ve got one for you too-I’ll send it.”

Zeck could hear the tension in Will’s voice. “Okay. You keep Nancy and my godson safe, asshole.”

“I will.”

Will and Nancy had arrived in White Plains with little warning, so the Lipinskis insisted they go out to dinner rather than assembling a meal of leftovers. An apple pie was cooling by an open window and would be ready when they returned. Up in Nancy ’s old bedroom, which she and Will used as their guest room, Nancy brushed on makeup in the mirror of her childhood vanity table. In the reflection she saw Will sitting on the bed, tying his shoes, looking tired and miserable.

“You okay?”

“I feel like shit.”

“I can see that.”

“Were they nice people?”

“The Cantwells?” he asked sadly. “Yeah. The old guy was a character. English lord right out of central casting.”

“And the granddaughter?”

“Beautiful girl. Smart.” He almost choked up. “She had a lot to live for, but it wasn’t in the cards.”

Will wondered if he’d just spilled a confession, but if Nancy had any suspicions, she let it pass. “Did Jim call you back?”

“Yeah. He’s letting us have his place up in Alton. They won’t find us up there. I’ve got a prepaid phone to give your parents so you can stay in touch.”

“At least Mom and Dad are happy. They’ve got Philly for the night.”

Frazier hated the lack of autonomy. He felt like a peon having to call Secretary Lester every few hours, but if he wasn’t regular as a clock, Lester’s aide would call him instead. The DeCorso business had sealed his fate. The shit was flowing downhill.

Lester picked up. It sounded like he was at a party, with background chatter and clinking glasses. “Hang on,” Lester said. “Let me find someplace quiet.”

Frazier was alone in his car. He’d kicked his men out into the cool night air for privacy. They were sullen, milling outside his window, a couple of them smoking.

“All right. I’m here,” Frazier said. “What’s your status?”

“It’s done. Now we wait.”

“Probability of success?”

“High. It’s high.”

“I just can’t have a screwup, Frazier. You have no idea how damaging it was letting your man get caught. This has gone all the way up. I heard that the Prime Minister got the President out of the crapper to scream down the phone at him. He went on and on about a breach of trust among allies, damage to the special relationship et cetera, et cetera. Then the Brits threatened to pull their naval support for Helping Hand which, I don’t need to tell you, screws up my life on multiple levels. You have no idea of the logistics that’ve gone into this. It’s almost as big as the Iraq invasion. The minute the Caracas Event is over, we’ve got to be ready to move. With the Brits or without.”

“Yes, sir, I understand,” Frazier said flatly.

“I wonder if you do. Well, your reward is coming. To keep the peace, the President’s agreed to open the kimono for the first time. He’s letting the Brits into Area 51. They’re sending an SIS team next week, and you’re going to be their host, on your goddamn best behavior. But I swear to you, Frazier, screw this operation up, and you’ll be their hostess instead.”

On the way back from dinner at an Applebee’s, Joseph stopped at a late-night UPS store to let Will mail a cell phone to Zeckendorf. Phillip was peacefully asleep in his infant seat. When Will got back in the car, he remarked on how chilly it had become. There was a sleety, cold rain falling. Joseph, ever cost-conscious, clucked, “Since Philly’s here, I’ll turn the heat on tonight.”

The family settled in for the evening, the oil furnace rumbling in the cellar like an old friend. They tucked Philly into his crib and Nancy went to bed with a magazine. The Lipinskis disappeared into their bedroom to watch a TV show, and Will was left to himself to brood in the living room, tired beyond belief but too restless to sleep.

Suddenly he was seized by a powerful urge for a drink, not a glass of Joseph’s ubiquitous Merlot but a proper glass of scotch. He knew that the Lipinskis weren’t spirits drinkers but he had a rummage around in case someone had bought them a house gift. Finding none, he helped himself to Joseph’s car keys and stole out of the house, destination, a bar.