tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-184302902024-03-06T22:54:28.290-08:00Where Am I Now When I Need MeHearing myself thinkAxelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09627668511171741211noreply@blogger.comBlogger246125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18430290.post-53497728436401810692023-06-04T05:16:00.000-07:002023-06-04T05:16:43.042-07:00Score One for the Nook<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBSSTNxyt6XevcvI6QcMmXCVVgyn6IXhjs3vZyaOyfoTgpyzw2jQ7_0Yb6iaCu-Jcpy0fMGP0jef6tIBUHUoYIyORBVFmmHsnjoIxJJgYkdBiJgag7MkE4Cjckh-T3TpvqK-Uz7nAhyoANo3KCVVv8uexI89NuA6zx8kLbCYwG6tacV1pqTDE/s264/NYT%20Kindle.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="264" data-original-width="191" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBSSTNxyt6XevcvI6QcMmXCVVgyn6IXhjs3vZyaOyfoTgpyzw2jQ7_0Yb6iaCu-Jcpy0fMGP0jef6tIBUHUoYIyORBVFmmHsnjoIxJJgYkdBiJgag7MkE4Cjckh-T3TpvqK-Uz7nAhyoANo3KCVVv8uexI89NuA6zx8kLbCYwG6tacV1pqTDE/s1600/NYT%20Kindle.jpg" width="191" /></a></div><br /><p>This is how the New York Times looked on the Kindle app: just text, no formatting, no pictures, no ads, a bare-bones info-shot for news junkies. A while ago the perennial ebook underdog, Barnes & Noble's Nook, got into the newspaper fray. Their app was better in every way, with a photorealistic image of the real thing, the ability to enlarge any page, and the option of clicking a tab to read any story in plain text -- the actual New York Times, on your iPad ... but better.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIMPHBh_VqC8obbAsfGd3Hgjdo727Tehse85SqR6IBzCrI-kBZXSA3x93WjpUjcNgfaQErlvbpUlj_J0sax3Gn8P5GvoRnmaEEcaqg67L-FnByLEoWvIpxv0ywph1A1zF8BtjsLQUChnoOsV7o56euRkvY8Rr5uk3JdlrKwFC86wX-m4oMwAs/s291/NYT%20Nook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="173" data-original-width="291" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIMPHBh_VqC8obbAsfGd3Hgjdo727Tehse85SqR6IBzCrI-kBZXSA3x93WjpUjcNgfaQErlvbpUlj_J0sax3Gn8P5GvoRnmaEEcaqg67L-FnByLEoWvIpxv0ywph1A1zF8BtjsLQUChnoOsV7o56euRkvY8Rr5uk3JdlrKwFC86wX-m4oMwAs/w290-h173/NYT%20Nook.jpg" width="290" /></a></div><br /><p>Of course, the Nook has a cumbersome purchasing protocol -- I guess "one-click" is proprietary to Bezos world -- and the app was glitchy. Sometimes there were delays in delivery. Stuffing your head into the no-frills text trough was easier most mornings, though I did go through the slog for the Sunday edition. </p><p>I signed on to Nook in the first place because Kindle didn't offer the Pevear and Volokhonsky <i>War and Peace,</i> a fresh translation that seemed like my best shot to climb Mt. Tolstoy. Nook fills other gaps, also, and of course, I'm rooting for Barnes & Noble. After my most recent viewing of <i>You've Got Mail, </i>I couldn't help noting the irony that Tom Hanks's mega store, which had just obliterated Meg Ryan's indie bookshop, would soon be all but obliterated itself by the implacable force of online shopping. Amazon did finish off Borders ... but Barnes and Noble struggled on.</p><p>And now, they've scored an unlikely victory.</p><p>Jeff gave up. Jeff got beaten, fair and square. They pulled the<i> New York Times</i> from the Kindle app, or as we say the tech world, "slinked away with their tail between their legs". Much as I rely on our number one internet retailer, it's a union-busting late-capitalist nightmare bully, and it feels good to see the other side notch one in the Win column.</p><p>The weird thing is that no one else seems to have noticed. Anyway, I haven't seen any mention of this particular skirmish in the mainstream media. I guess that leaves it to me. </p><p>So congratulations, Barnes & Noble. Keep up the good work.</p>Axelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09627668511171741211noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18430290.post-31111069145528599132023-03-05T18:00:00.000-08:002023-03-05T18:00:34.785-08:00Jimmy Devlin Misses a Step<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">The trail had taken me to Fort Mitchell National
Cemetery in Georgia, where CSM Paul Bishop (the tombstone read: Somalia, Iraq,
Afghanistan HE SERVED WITH PRIDE) was no longer buried. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">The name had come up a few weeks ago, unrelated to
anything else in the case, long after the investigation seemed to have run its
course, and everyone else had given up. No leads, no witnesses, no hard
evidence – just a hunch, and after the debacles of the last few years no one at
INSCOM had much patience for my hunches.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Still, I persisted – not so much because I
wanted to be proved right, but because of the catastrophic results if everyone
else was proved wrong.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I drove into the small city-state of Fort
Benning on an unseasonably mild late November afternoon, asking myself again:
What did I actually have to go on? Intercepted, encrypted emails, stolen
nuclear materials, a talkative witness doing ten years to life in the
Chesapeake Consolidated Naval brig; coded messages from page numbers and word
counts in <i>The Turner Diaries. <o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></i><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">I drove up the main gate, flashed my
credentials to the guard, and got a swift salute as the barrier lifted. The
reflexive military gesture of respect buoyed my sprits briefly, but a phone
call to the Intelligence and Security Command would flip that one-eighty. I had
no official business here and no clearance for what I needed to do. It would
come down to bluff and bluster. I heard my COs voice in my head again, as I so
often did: Culhane laughing: “Bullshit baffles brains, Jimmy.” And it usually
did. Anyway, I had always been good at the bullshit. The look I gave that
guard, for instance<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>-- cold, bored and
impatient, had been pitch perfect, as was my unrushed cruise onto the base. The
car’s body language said I was in no rush and didn’t have to be. People would wait
for me – or come to me when I called them.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>More bullshit of course: I’d managed to
burn the last of my credibility as the few scraps evidence had dissolved like
the last pile of dirty snow in a rainstorm. The emails were ambiguous – “dirty
bomb” was some sort of popular rap lyric, the stolen nuclear material had
apparently been accounted for, the <i>Turner Diaries</i> code breaking had
yielded only ambiguous hate speech<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>about
wiping out the “towel heads” and “one cockroach in the sink meant a thousand in
the walls”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>-- no evident master plan, no
plan at all really, except that the people using the book would do whatever
they had to do to “not be replaced”.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Ya can’t repair em,” Culhane had said
once. “So what the fuck else are you supposed to do with em?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>That left the witness, who it turned out
would confess anything to anyone about anything in exchange for a shorter
sentence or a bigger cell. So it was no surprise that when I came upon the name
Paul Bishop and located a Command Sergeant Major of the same name buried at
Fort Mitchell, no one had the slightest interest in digging up the grave. I
spoke to Bishop’s widow privately and explained me theory: a newly empty grave
was the best possible hiding place for contraband you didn’t want people to
find.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">She hung up on me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Not a great career week for James Devlin.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>But, still – it all made sense. If the
nuclear materials were still unaccounted for, and the Army had no clear origin
point for them … and anyway, you didn’t have to steal radioactive isotopes from
a power plant to make a dirty bomb. A few grams of Polonium could be scavenged
from a dozen sources, from construction sites to food processing plants to
hospitals. You didn’t get enough for a nuclear explosion, but the dynamite
spread the radioactive particles over a good distance, and that made the
perfect surprise coda to your bomb drama, a lingering reminder of your message
and your threat. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">And if the coded phrases from the book really did refer
to an actual dirty bomb, and if the emails corroborated it, and if that lowlife
scumbag convict just happened to be telling the truth for once in his life …<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">If, if, if.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“If I had ham, I’d have ham and eggs,” Culhane had
scoffed at me. “If I had eggs.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">So I was on my own, going rogue as usual. I had used
that phrase with Jenny once and she’d said, “I only seem like I’m ‘going rogue’
because I’m right and you won’t do what I say.’ Well, Jenny was right most of
the time, whether the subject was a lighter more expensive bit for her mare or
the unacceptability of over-head lighting. I gave her those, and she’d give me
this one, I was certain. Jenny had good instincts. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">CMS Paul Bishop’s grave was full of metal tubing
dynamite and some radioactive isotope, most likely polonium 210. But I wasn’t
going to debate my theory any more. I was running out of time. It was closing
in on <i>Duhl Hijjah</i>, the final month in the Arabic calendar. That meant <i>Yawm-Al-Arafat</i>,
the holiest day of the Muslim year, was less than two weeks away. Whoever these
people were, I was sure they were going to blow a mosque on that day …
probably, given the logistics of the operation, <i>Al-Farook Masjid,</i> the
biggest mosque in the southern United States, located in Atlanta, just over a
hundred miles north, less than two hours by car from the cemetery. Two of the
encrypted messages supported this theory: “Let them die on their knees” and
even more alarming: “Careful when you face east. We’re gonna get you when you
turn your back on the west”.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">That was my case.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">I’d made as well as I could, and Culhane rejected it. So
I was on my own. Fuck it. I was used to that. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">I pulled up to the Admin building, organized my story, and
walked inside. On the second floor, amid the quiet rustle of computer keys and
the distant ringing of a telephone, the Staff Judge Advocate’s assistant
greeted me. He offered bottled water and gave me the list of volunteers. The
job involved “spade work” and one of the men, private first class Caden Bowers,
had actually been a grave digger in civilian life. I had to smile at that.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Ten minutes later I was driving off the base with Bowers
riding shotgun: a square faced, squinting redneck mouth-breather more
interested in whatever he was scrolling through on his phone than the job he’d
been chosen for, or the man in charge. That was fine with me. I had no interest
in small talk.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">I badged my way into the cemetery and found the grave in
a wide meadow dotted with gravestones, backed by a dense screen of forest.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Now what?” Bowers asked me<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Now we wait for dark.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“The fuck are we doing here, Colonel?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">I twisted in my seat to face him. “We’re digging up a
grave.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Hey no, that aint legal, sir! Plus it’s a sin.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“The U.S. Army absolves you, private. And you can go to
Confession on Sunday.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">We sat in silence for a while. I rolled down my window
and let the cool evening breeze touch my face. Crows squawked. I heard a siren
dopplering into the distance. Bowers returned to his trusty iPhone.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">When it was full dark I turned on the headlights to
illuminate the grave and climbed out of the car. Bowers joined me, shovel in
hand. “I don’t think we should do this, sir.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Noted.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“I mean, dead bodies, you know … disturbing them and
what not …”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Dig it up,” I said through gritted teeth. Genuine fear
moved through his eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“I’m sorry, sir … dig – dig what up?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“All of it. Dig it all up. I want it all gone. Now.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“You mean, like body parts … because –”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Jesus Christ! There’s no body under there, Private! If
I’m right you’ll find nothing but the components of a bomb.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Like a land mine? If it blows –”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Relax, it’s disassembled.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“I don’t know …”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Before I could answer, he swung the shovel at my head.
Pain exploded behind my eyes and I found myself on my hands and knees in the
grass. He pulled my Heckler and Koch from its holster, and stepped back. He
spoke but my ears were ringing. I couldn’t hear him. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">He spoke louder. “Now you get to dig your own grave, and
I don’t have to handle all that nasty ass plutonium. Kind of a win-win,
Colonel. Doncha think?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Wait – who … what are you …”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Come on college boy, time for the post graduate course.
We was on to you from jump street and my boys are coming right now to pick this
stuff up and get it to A-Town. Oh yeah. Who do you think I was texting back in
the car? Uber? Some dating app? We don’t have time for that shit. We got a
mission and we’re just a little ahead of schedule now. But you gotta roll with
shit, you know? Now start digging.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">By the time I had gotten down to the black plastic back
full of aluminum piping, ten-penny nails, Semtex and plutonium, a black Ford
F350 had pulled up beside us. I was breathing hard, feeling the stab in my
lower back and the raw blisters on my palms. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Yo, Caden!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Hey, T-Bone, we got us a helper.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">T-Bone laughed. “You always was a lazy shit.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“You AWOL now, cracker,” a third voice chimed in from
the truck<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Fuck yeah.” He turned to me, waved the gun at the truck
bed. “Start loading up, college boy.” I heaved the bag out of the grave and
scrambled after it. “Empty the bag! Get your hands on that stuff. Won’t hurt ya
unless you gopt an open blister or something Feel it hit ya. Don’t worry the
radiation’ll take a coupla days to kill ya, and you’ll be long dead by that
time. So, it’s all good!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">When I was done he shot me five times in the chest and
the close-range rounds punched me backward into the pit. The Kevlar had saved
me but I could tell some ribs were broken and I couldn’t move as the first
shovel full of dirt hit my back.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">The darkness saved me. I got my jacket pulled over my
head without them seeing, and I had a pocket of air to breathe until they were
gone. The dirt was loose but it was heavy and I almost suffocated before my
legs could push me out into the air and my hands could claw the soil aside. I
stood for I don’t know how long, filthy and wounded, radiation poisoned, trying
to get my breath and my bearings. Finally, I lost consciousness for I don’t
know how long.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">The voice woke me. “Sorry, son. I don’t know what you’re
doing out here, but I’m going to have to put a stop to it. Military police from
Benning are on their way right now. They can sort this out. You just get
yourself out of there, and hold tight till they get here. Won’t be long.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">I squirmed out of the dirt and pulled myself to my feet.
I was dizzy, my whole body was screaming in pain, my throat felt choked with
dirt. But I managed to disarm the old man, take his gun and club him to the
ground. His car was still running. I jumped in, dug the turf up in a three
point turn and took off. I could hear sirens in the distance.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;">I was a fugitive now, and probably dying from the
radiation exposure, but I still had a job to do and less than two weeks to do
it. By the time I hit interstate 185, I’d figured out my plan. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Bohemian Typewriter"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>Axelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09627668511171741211noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18430290.post-69904965135089090502022-10-09T15:59:00.001-07:002022-10-09T16:00:16.908-07:00R.I.P. Nikki Finke<p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">So sad to hear tonight about Nikki Finke's death at age 68. I had always enjoyed her gleefully fearless Deadline Hollywood site. She told the truth and revealed the embarrassing facts about Hollywood big shots. Inevitably, you would hear the self-righteous denials ... and when the proof came out, you could count on the patented Finke "TOLDJA!" to celebrate another victory over the untouchable. Her hilariously venomous live blogging of the Oscars was a highlight of my year, <span style="font-family: inherit;"><a style="color: #385898; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit;" tabindex="-1"></a></span>every year ... and far more entertaining than the actual show. </div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Then she sold the site to Penske and went to war with him ... and lost; and then went silent... at least online -- there was a non-compete clause in her sale contract with the trucking giant.</div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I missed her, and the splash of vodka she had slipped into the processed orange juice of Hollywood news. </div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">So I wondered ... what would she do next?</div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Her new project was Hollywood Dementia -- a site dedicated to tinseltown fiction written by movie biz insiders. I had a 250,000-word Hollywood novel I could dip into ... but did my family connections, my WGAw membership, and my paltry few years in L.A., qualify me to contribute? </div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Nikki thought so, and a lovely, long-distance friendship began. She was a tough quirky editor and a tireless champion of the writers she liked. I'll never forget her grabbing Francesca Orsi -- the HBO executive she had corralled into attending her Hollywood Dementia writer's party -- pointing at me and growling, "Talk to him! He's the most talented writer on the site!" I certainly wasn't, not even close, but her ferocious advocacy meant the world to me. She even tried to convince the cable channel to make my Kennis mysteries into a season of True Detective. Her efforts were tireless, Quixotic, and futile, but it felt good to have such a tough stubborn ally. </div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Then the site turned moribund and she stopped returning phone calls. I feared the worst -- she had been in ill health even six years before when we met at her party.</div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">And now the worst has happened.</div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">A lot of the people she scandalized and humiliated probably assume she's going to hell. But when arrives at the pearly gates for a champagne toast with St, Peter I'll be down here crowing: TOLDJA!</div>Axelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09627668511171741211noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18430290.post-40086230543155056122022-09-18T15:36:00.002-07:002022-09-18T15:37:32.823-07:00Finding the Seam<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBLzbcS6rKKdV6VYroDt4Gnev3o2al-Wx3HghWn9-i-h-1GHDD9-DwsD4C_UgHD283xoONux7SA_29uR7U2QHA1sbyb2wJd6klp81ZEbw0WFr_TvLBmqrERIXlUPhF1SAJ8BmGF4vdvCMtKF7jkpmc3WCjq_BHDFFGf-eIAYZKMUeOrD__U7c/s360/laptop%202.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="254" data-original-width="360" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBLzbcS6rKKdV6VYroDt4Gnev3o2al-Wx3HghWn9-i-h-1GHDD9-DwsD4C_UgHD283xoONux7SA_29uR7U2QHA1sbyb2wJd6klp81ZEbw0WFr_TvLBmqrERIXlUPhF1SAJ8BmGF4vdvCMtKF7jkpmc3WCjq_BHDFFGf-eIAYZKMUeOrD__U7c/s320/laptop%202.webp" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 14pt;">The technique of letting a story develop
as you write it demands an array of unusual tactics. I thought it might be
interesting to dismantle a single scene to demonstrate the process. When I
wanted to do something similar for my graduation lecture at Vermont College, my
professor dismissed the idea with his usual blunt style: “No one cares how you
wrote your book. It’s not Anna Karenina.” Eight books later, this one won’t be much
competition for Tolstoy, either. But I still find the granular details of
narrative construction interesting<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 14pt;">Without
giving too much away, I had a scene between a married couple in which the
husband was a crude, abusive bully. It worked very well, I checked the “first
scene between Jan and Hannah” box and moved on. But the hero of my story is on
a mission to rescue Hannah, and I needed him to encounter some difficulties en
route to her apartment. “The mission was accomplished without incident” might
be high praise in a military operation post-mortem, but it’s terrible for a
story. I badly needed an incident or two. How about this? A couple has mounted
their own escape and my hero, in military garb, is swept into the hunt for them
… derailing his own plan and its meticulous timing. Two escapes, unconnected,
seemed plausible but unsatisfying. What if Jan had helped them? But Hannah is
part of the organization behind these exploits, and the big fight in their
kitchen which opens the chapter is all about Jan demanding that Hannah stop her
high-risk activities. Why would he do that if he was also involved? Bad idea,
forget it. Still, the contradiction kept scratching at the door like a cat
locked out of the bedroom. What if…? No. Or --? Naaa, stupid idea. I felt like
I had a whole TV writer’s room in my head, staring at the white board, eating
cold Chinese take out and trying the break the story. But of course, it was all
just me, as usual. <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 14pt;">So,
how about this -- Jan got sucked into the fervor of the cause, somehow? But
why? Just being around his wife’s fanatical dedication could have infected him
almost against his will … only a partial explanation, but at least it makes the
action seem possible. But that’s not enough. So pile on a little: the woman was
the love of Jan’s life, until she dumped him – for his best friend, the
husband. Still not quite sufficient, but it was enough to let me move forward.<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 14pt;">“Moving
forward” meant re-writing the kitchen argument to reveal these new facts … and
set up enough details for my hero to grasp at least part of the situation when
he encounters the couple hiding in an alley and helps them get away. Belatedly,
I realized that the twist in the story, when Jan follows Hannah and my hero,
winds up saving them both and sacrificing himself, was simply not supported by
the evidence in the scene I had written. We saw nothing in Jan with that first
draft that would make us believe he had the potential for such a noble gesture.
That was why my conscious mind kept pushing and poking at the narrative: the unconscious
mind was saying: do more. Give me more. Maybe I just found the one-dimensional
thug boring. That was certainly part of it – but just a part. Anyway, I certainly
had my marching orders.<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 14pt;">In
these situations, you can just start from scratch with a whole new scene, but I
wanted to keep the anger I had started with. I wanted it both ways. That meant
finding a seam in the argument that I could pry open to accommodate my new
dialogue. <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 14pt;">But
first I had to write the dialogue. <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 14pt;">Here’s
the critical section of the scene, as it stood this morning<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Jan knew how to take care of himself.
He made sure to join the <span style="background: white; color: black;">Żydowska
Służba Porządkowa</span> working with the Judenrat. But that meant Hannah’s war
was over. Jan made that very clear after a brief clandestine visit from Fredka
Oxenhendler, bringing precious guns and bullets through a secret tunnel beneath
the cemetery wall.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;">That was the first time that Jan had
beaten her. He took the contraband weapons and ammunition, turned them over to
the SS and received a promotion in return. He couldn’t tell Obergrppenfuhrer
Kellzen how the ZOB had penetrated the ghetto because Hannah wouldn’t tell him,
and he couldn’t turn her in, however his feelings for her might have soured,
because she was carrying his baby, and the baby might be a boy: checkmate.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Or at least stalemate.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Jan slurped the last of the thin soup
and Hannah weighed the various options: frying pan to the head? Knife to the
throat? Some simple poison? There would have to be something she could use at
the hospital in Cyzste, if she could steal it, if there were any supplies left
on the shelves, if Dr. Zielinski would help her, if was even still alive. What
else? She could strangle him with clothesline – was she strong enough for that?
She wouldn’t get two chances. If only she still had one of those lovely
Mausers. Fredka had asked, one sardonic eyebrow lifted, “Could you really pull
the trigger, Darling?”<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“I know where you’ve been tonight,” Jan
said suddenly, as if he was answering her, as if they were in the middle of the
argument already. It must have raging in his head since she got home.
“Smuggling potatoes into the Ghetto, putting our lives at risk for nothing.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;">He lurched out of his chair, took two
steps to the counter by the sink where Hannah had filled a cracked china bowl
with two dozen of the lovely small kartofla wiosennas, her favorites, from the
evening’s haul. He grabbed a handful of them and threw them at her. One struck
her forehead. “And you bring the evidence home! How are you going to explain
these, if there’s a raid?”<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;">She reached up to touch her forehead.
It would bruise soon. “I thought we could eat them, Jan. Then the Schutzstaffel
pigs could investigate our toilet for the evidence.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“So, this is a joke to you?”<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“It’s a mitzvah. I know you love those
pickle potatoes.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“We don’t need your dirty loot, your
nielegalne zyski! I get all the food we need.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“I thought you’d be happy.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Happy to die for your arrogance and
vanity? So you can pose and strut for your radical friends? Look at me! The
future mother of the Erez Israel kibbutzim, Queen of the underground freedom
fighters! You child! You truant little girl, skipping school on Dzien Wagarowicza!
Getting me shot in the head so some toothless grandmother can eat her placki
ziemniaczane! You make me sick.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;">She shook her head. “You understand
nothing.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Tactical blunder: silence was always
best. Now her tone of tired contempt ignited his rage again and he bounded
across the room at her, shoving the table aside. The empty soup bowl shattered
on the floor, their last decent bowl. He jammed her against the cabinets, hands
at her throat.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Could I pull the trigger, Fredka? <o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Just watch me.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“You were forbidden to do more
smuggling! I forbade you to do that! You disobeyed me! You lied. You lied to
me, you dirty little klafte.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;">She couldn’t breathe. “Jan --Jan,
please … the baby …”<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; mso-outline-level: 1; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">He seemed to come to his senses. He released her,
stumbled backward. “The baby. Always the baby. That’s your secret weapon. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m going out. I need a drink. Tadeusz has
some good vodka.</span></i><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;">And I smuggled it across the wall for
him, you fucking chazer! she almost shouted after him. But it was better to let
the chazer go. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Choose silence for once, Hannah -- before
it’s too late.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Six hundred and sixty-six words; and
somewhere in that passage, a seam I could open up to insert the dialogue that
would shift and deepen the story. It was only in the actual writing of the new
dialogue that the final piece of the puzzle fitted itself into place. I was
flying improvising … and I stopped short. Had I gone too far? The revelation
scared me, but the best ideas always have that element of risk and the flinch
you feel is virtually a guarantee that you’ve found something good. The insert
slipped easily into the seam I found,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>neatly sealed at both sides, beginning an end, highlighted in boldface:<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;">She couldn’t breathe. “Jan --Jan,
please … the baby …”<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;">He seemed to come to his senses. He
released her, stumbled backward. “The baby. Always the baby. That’s your secret
weapon</span></i></b><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;">.</span></i><b><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“I’m not Mala.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Don’t say her name.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“You can’t stop me. Mala. Mala, Mala,
Mala. I’ll say it as much <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>as I want.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“We are not speaking of Mala tonight.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Yes we are! Of course we are! That’s
all we speak of, even when we’re speaking of the weather.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“That’s the past, Hannah. Can’t you let
it be the past?”<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; mso-outline-level: 1; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">“Answer that one for yourself.”</span></i><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; mso-outline-level: 1; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">“Every honest word I have ever uttered in your
presence I regret.”</span></i><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; mso-outline-level: 1; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">“Jan -- ”</span></i><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; mso-outline-level: 1; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">“I should have taken a vow of silence. My father told
me. ‘Lock your heart. Leave that door open and the thieves will steal
everything from you’. I should have listened.”</span></i><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; mso-outline-level: 1; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">“I’m no thief. And your father was a drunk. A bitter,
mean-spirited drunk.”</span></i><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; mso-outline-level: 1; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">“How dare you --”</span></i><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; mso-outline-level: 1; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">“It’s true and everyone knows it. But you’re
different, Jan. You’re not that way. You helped Aaron and Mala.”</span></i><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; mso-outline-level: 1; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">“Because of you! All your wild talk. I started to
believe it, God help me.”</span></i><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; mso-outline-level: 1; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">“That’s not why.”</span></i><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; mso-outline-level: 1; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">“No? You tell me why, then.”</span></i><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; mso-outline-level: 1; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">There was no going back. “Mala is pregnant. And the
child is yours.”</span></i><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; mso-outline-level: 1; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">He gaped at her. “No one knows that! How could you
know that?”</span></i><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; mso-outline-level: 1; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">“I didn’t. But I do now.”</span></i><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; mso-outline-level: 1; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">Silence dropped over them like a blanket on a rat –
the smothering darkness and the stillness of panic. She could hear Jan’s
breath, and a rattle of coughing from the back room. Starving dogs, streets away,
barked and howled, fighting over something dead.</span></i><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; mso-outline-level: 1; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">“Got in Himmel,” Jan said finally. “How did we wind
up here?”</span></i><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; mso-outline-level: 1; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">“Fredka will help them.”</span></i><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; mso-outline-level: 1; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">“If she can. If they even get that far. Probably they
will both be dead before morning. Anyway, we’ll never see them again.”</span></i><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; mso-outline-level: 1; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">“Until we meet in Shamayim.”</span></i><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; mso-outline-level: 1; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">“Shamayim! Your optimism is poison to me. Poison! We
are all doomed. We are going to hell. And your cheerful brainless chirping just
makes everything a thousand times worse. You make me sick. <b>I’m going out. I
need a drink. Tadeusz has some good vodka.”</b></span></i><b><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; mso-outline-level: 1; text-indent: 0.5in;"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; mso-outline-level: 1; text-indent: 0.5in;"><b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">And that’s where the scene stands today, all finished
… until I have to go back and change it again.</span></b><b><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook",serif; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p><br /><p></p>Axelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09627668511171741211noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18430290.post-77333128411099421012022-05-15T04:42:00.003-07:002022-05-15T04:44:43.711-07:00The Freemasonry of the Brush<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0nNvoX8TFrg2bduoh3CAtci7TExeCwOpUzf9zTBUnQKVa2mc-bIajQe7PRxoi5Oplgmp2mxMHRLsIxhUtI0613sr3gHmLjbl1jMKd7nwjmDdXLPOvbCiah6lKrBoIlBxk1mq18Wa3HaT8LlOMQSepD1oJc0IEZVvCmvJDsO_HKyRYkdNSGGg/s308/painters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="163" data-original-width="308" height="163" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0nNvoX8TFrg2bduoh3CAtci7TExeCwOpUzf9zTBUnQKVa2mc-bIajQe7PRxoi5Oplgmp2mxMHRLsIxhUtI0613sr3gHmLjbl1jMKd7nwjmDdXLPOvbCiah6lKrBoIlBxk1mq18Wa3HaT8LlOMQSepD1oJc0IEZVvCmvJDsO_HKyRYkdNSGGg/s1600/painters.jpg" width="308" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Sitting, sipping coffee and reading a book, in a warm house
with a cold, sun-sharp windy April afternoon blowing and glaring outside, with
nowhere I need to go and nothing I need to do, feeling truly at home for the
first time in years. Not visiting, not commuting, not counting down the days
until the next slog up 95 and the long groaning churn of the ferry ride across
Nantucket Sound, but simply living, secure and settled. Back to work again on
Monday, after the long Easter weekend, but that’s fine. It’s work I know and
even enjoy. The ease with which I slipped into this new painting crew, side by
side with the gang of tough old carpenters, surprised me a little. I always
knew that painting houses was a trade I could take up anywhere, but this is
more than a job. The building trades have their own lively Freemasonry, and
it’s as effortless to talk about favorite brushes(we all favor Wooster) and
despised “luxury” paint brands (I’m looking at you, Farrow & Ball) as it
was to chat about point-of-view or image patterning with a friendly stranger in
an MFA dining hall. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The world of the construction site is so familiar, with the
universal tang of sawdust, the tangled snakes of power cords, the grinding saws,
and the bad music, that it hardly seems like you’ve come to a new place at all.
Even the characters remain the same: the seldom-seen but exigent GC; the
strutting and hilariously self-important architect,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the demanding but oblivious owners; the same
fuck-ups and epic stories of fuck-ups past. There’s the inevitable cabinet
maker with OCD, the painter with the drinking problem, the landscaper waiting
for his green card. We all understand each other, we’ve all been there and
we’re all still here. I feel like I could join a crew in Athens or Tokyo or
Helsinki and it would be the same. It’s a fraternity and you have to earn your
place in it. The quiet look of approval the first time you cut a ceiling or
glaze a window tells you what you most want to know – not that you can do the
job, but that you’re welcome to the club. You’ve already paid the dues, in
spilled paint and broken panes of antique glass, in the twenty-hour weekends
ahead of the furniture or the floor guys, in the all-nighters under the
halogens to get that final check before Christmas. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It’s nothing special – just another day on the job. We’re
all in it for the long haul, picking up where we left off, stripping it off to
put it back on, finishing the job, and starting the next one. It’s a living,
and surprisingly, I realize after more than thirty years,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>it’s a life.<o:p></o:p></p>Axelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09627668511171741211noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18430290.post-13468005338126170462022-05-14T05:28:00.002-07:002022-05-14T05:28:57.369-07:00The Character Connundrum<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDCUFvzzoH5Ay86cw_2pr69Q1wH9X6ZZfTP0FtEVaQT-2sAmie8WYqzAX5xkyaRQcmZ7ouWz41G12i76_2X8nAjhlJALdO8U9qNBgNIEE24e-sCxDc1N8ZgO7vJWWmc54HWqtZmKlOn77tZIkmWbOwmRRSUGW4lgIzKxJygUrdWumYEX-0vzc/s318/grass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="159" data-original-width="318" height="159" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDCUFvzzoH5Ay86cw_2pr69Q1wH9X6ZZfTP0FtEVaQT-2sAmie8WYqzAX5xkyaRQcmZ7ouWz41G12i76_2X8nAjhlJALdO8U9qNBgNIEE24e-sCxDc1N8ZgO7vJWWmc54HWqtZmKlOn77tZIkmWbOwmRRSUGW4lgIzKxJygUrdWumYEX-0vzc/s1600/grass.jpg" width="318" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br />Scrolling through
TikTok’s array of writing experts, and trying to absorb their tips about
character development, I’ve become increasingly baffled. Their advice bears no
relation to my own experience. I’ve never used a white board or a flow chart,
never listed personality traits or ginned up a biography, complete with childhood
traumas. In fact, I believe that real writers have all their characters already
inside them, fully formed but inert. The act of writing brings them alive and
leads them out of the shadows, with no analytical thinking and technical
trickery required. You just need to trust your unconscious mind, which does most
of the heavy lifting, anyway. <o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">All my favorite
characters have ambushed me, wrenching the narrative into a new direction which
turned out to be the inevitable way the story was meant to unfold from the
beginning. Who knew? Not me. A runaway 16-year-old boy named Rickey Muller
upended my new thriller <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“White Crow” … and
then somehow became the crucial centerpiece of the plot and the novel’s moral compass.
I fought it for a <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>while, but finally I
was smart enough to give in. His traits, his biography, his “character arc”?
Those I discovered in the course of the book, just as the reader will. Rickey
led the way; I just paid attention. This somewhat nerve-wracking renunciation
of control made the book more fresh and lively, with an improvisational edge
that I would have been hard-pressed to construct by will power and conscious thought.
The stigma of mechanical engineering, the smell of engine oil and metal
shavings, rises from that mass of online instruction -- all those computer
programs and structural guidelines, all those tricks and gimmicks and hacks.
Forget about them. Your characters are all inside you. Just let them out -- and
let them take over. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">You’ll be glad you did</span><span style="font-family: Ink Free;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>Axelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09627668511171741211noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18430290.post-18843026045878243662022-01-15T17:53:00.000-08:002022-01-15T17:53:28.491-08:00Nantucket Plunder, A Henry Kennis short story<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgfc4CKgPmRAKZdovDnRnutvVlgKMMl2i12UYlF_ONvxUhOz1TWKL92b1nbrJwzVjwPiYf7J1MeWQN-QXfyWper1Y75ZEuHqTr9LH2vi1SnWaItyUxuzYx6JdFdnFDsES9PqrhZIz9wVmIKyCowlDSyxCl9KE-rYqZ4bO2StFulfUYSmNd46Kk=s275" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgfc4CKgPmRAKZdovDnRnutvVlgKMMl2i12UYlF_ONvxUhOz1TWKL92b1nbrJwzVjwPiYf7J1MeWQN-QXfyWper1Y75ZEuHqTr9LH2vi1SnWaItyUxuzYx6JdFdnFDsES9PqrhZIz9wVmIKyCowlDSyxCl9KE-rYqZ4bO2StFulfUYSmNd46Kk" width="275" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Mike
Henderson was in trouble again. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">His brushes with the law had never
amounted to much – in fact they had become a small private joke between us. The
time he managed to give himself the best possible motive and no alibi for the
most notorious murder in the island’s history, or the time he was seen walking
away from a murder scene with what looked like blood all over his hands. He was
cleared both times – coincidence and paint.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>But
this was different. This was serious.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Five customers
had filed theft reports on houses where Mike had been working over the winter.
They’d arrived for the summer season, opened their houses and found things
missing. The five lists together made an impressive inventory: Tiffany silver,
Reyes lightship baskets, a stash of Kruggerands. And there was a startling
amount of original art gone missing: Rauschenberg collages, Jim Dine hearts,
Hockney swimming pools, along with several pieces of Stickley furniture and
collections of Staffordshire dogs and Rookwood pottery.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“This
is no smash and grab break in artist,” Haden Krakauer said after I finished
going through the missing property lists. My assistant chief was shrewd and
cynical and he knew the island much better than me. He grew up on Nantucket and
knew everyone and their families and their family scandals going back three
generations. “This is a connoisseur. These robberies were curated.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“So
ignore the usual suspects?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Well
…”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Neither
of us wanted to be accused of profiling but the fact remained that most of the
house robberies on the island were committed either by drunk high school kids
who had the alarm codes or by desperate immigrants trying to keep up with the
rent, the food prices or a shiny new all-American opioid addiction. It could be
a landscaper from Jamaica, a mason’s apprentice from Ecuador, a bus boy from
Belarus – single or married, with kids or without. But those thefts all had a
common accent, a familiar grammar -- like English spoken badly. Those thieves
stole bling and electronics – Apple Watches and X-box systems, flat screens and
costume jewelry. Lots of fake diamond rings and pearl necklaces along with the
occasional valuable item, because they didn’t know the difference.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>This
guy knew the difference. This was an educated, discerning thief who had access
to the most well-guarded and expensively alarmed houses on the island. Which
narrowed things down drastically – that was what Haden meant. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
need the next list,” I told him. “The list with the names of everyone who
worked on those houses over the winter. Put Kyle Donnelly on it.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It
took Kyle a few days, leveraging a lifetime of island contacts to pry
information out of the close-knit community of builders and contractors. My
friend Pat Folger had put up a guest cottage for one of the burglary victims;
Billy Delavane had built the custom staircase. Kyle got a list of all Folger’s
subs -- from electricians and plumbers to plasterers and painters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The other houses had no large-scale projects
going on through the winter months, but Kyle contacted the owners, and through
them he found the caretakers, and the caretakers gave him lists. Some owed him
favors (a warning instead of a DUI), some had been pals with his grandfather.
Some accepted the standard bribe: a Bud Lite 18 pack. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When
the roll call was complete, Kyle surprised me by taking the next step. I’d been
teaching him for five years; he was finally starting to learn something. Baby
steps – simple procedure. But I made sure to give him what my old boss in L.A.
used to all an “attaboy” when he laid the five long lists -- and the one short
list -- my desk the next Monday morning. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He
had done the cross referencing. Only three people had worked in all the burglarized
houses in the off-season. Arturo Maturo, the plumber, Tom Danziger, the
electrician – and Mike Henderson, the painter. They had all worked on the Lomax
house a few years back and had all been suspects, briefly. They all had other
secrets they were reluctant to share and by the end of the investigation I felt
more like a parish priest than a police officer. I gave them the only
absolution I could – I let them go with a thank you and an apology.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>But
now they were all on the blotter again.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I
cleared the first two quickly. Maturo had been draining the pipes after one of the
families came up for Christmas and kids had come up in March to grab some
summer clothes. Their selfies showed most of the loot in the background. That
let Maturo off the hook.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Danziger had done extensive re-wiring
in two of the houses, and the inspector remembered various stolen objects still
in place when came over to sign off on the work.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">None of that cleared them of every
house on the list, but we were assuming one thief and one modus operandi for
all the crimes. Beyond that, Danziger and Maturo were unlikely suspects.
Plumbers and Electricians ruled as blue collar royalty on Nantucket. They had
no need for petty theft to augment their incomes and no reason to jeopardize their
standing in the hierarchy of the building trades by stealing from their
customers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At around two hundred bucks
an hour, most people thought they were stealing anyway.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">That left Mike Henderson.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">As usual, he had no alibi. All the
circumstantial evidence was against him. He had worked in all the houses,
mostly alone. He had often remarked that painting was a socially sanctioned
form of trespassing, and more than one client had fired him, accusing him of
that very crime. He was always broke, scrounging a living from job to job, so
he was motivated to pick up a few extra dollars by theft. He charged according
to the model of car he found in the garage and felt no compunction about
gouging the wealthy. So why not help himself to the odd silver tea pot or lightship
basket?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">But was angry and baffled when I
brought him in for questioning. It’s hard to fake that level of outrage.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Check my bank account! See if you
can find all this money I’m supposed to be stealing. I hope you do find it! I
could use it. We’re a month behind on our mortgage payments right now.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I pushed against the edge of my desk,
rolled my chair back a few inches. We were talking in my office, much to Haden
Krakauer’s dismay. He liked doing things by the book. As far as my Assistant
Chief was concerned, Mike was a suspect in a string of B&E felonies, and
ought to be treated that way. I wasn’t so sure. I hadn’t arrested Mike, and I
didn’t want to Mirandize him. I wanted to talk, but I wasn’t going to shove him
into an interrogation room like a common criminal. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">At least not yet. “Your bank account
is the last place I’d expect you to stash stolen money, Mike. You told me
yourself – small-time house-painters are the last stalwarts of the cash
economy.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Thanks a lot.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“You don’t work for big contractors.
You don’t carry Workmen’s Comp. Not since the Lomax job. You don’t have big
crew anymore, either -- or a big payroll to meet. When you need a 40-foot
ladder, or someone you trust to roll a ceiling, you ask your friends. Right?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Right.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“It’s a collective. You all fly under
the radar and you all prefer cash payments, rolls of hundreds –“<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Nantucket Sawbucks.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Exactly.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Some people call them Nantucket
tens, but that sounds like a political movement.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Maybe you are a political movement.
Guerilla painting – steal from the rich and give to the poor. Which would be
you, I assume. Unless you’re also donating to the Food Bank.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I can’t afford to donate to anyone!
It’s like my dad used to say – I have to take out a loan to pay attention.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“And yet your wife is driving a brand
new Jeep Grand Cherokee.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“That was a gift. From her father.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“And you can prove that.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Do I have to?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“You might.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“So you can just … audit my whole
life over some random accusation?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I shrugged. “It’s one way to prove
you’re innocent.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“When we asked Cindy’s dad to help us
pay for Montessori school, it was just like this. ‘Should you really be going
out to dinner in your financial situation?’ ‘That sounds like quite the
expensive vacation for a fellow in your straightened circumstances.’”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“So what did you do?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I told him to take his money and go fuck
himself, and I put the kids in public school.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Good for you.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“That wouldn’t really work in this
case.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“No, but I’ll tell you something,
Mike. I’m going to stick the foundational assumption of American jurisprudence
-- that you’re innocent until proved guilty. Still, someone’s been stealing
stuff out of the houses you work on.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“So … what are you going to do?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I gave him my best encouraging smile.
“Catch them.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Unfortunately, I had another criminal
matter to deal with that day, one much closer to home. It had begun the week
before, with Jane Stiles’ yard sale. Rain had forced the event inside and we
spent the morning hastily arranging antique furniture, glassware, rugs and
runners and a rack of vintage women’s dresses in the cramped confines of her
cottage. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Otherwise the sale was normal:
advertised for ten o’clock, with the first early birds showing up at eight,
helping themselves to a Downeyflake donut from the traditional box of a dozen
Jane always set out for the shoppers.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The usual crowd appeared by the
formal start of the sale – long-time customers (Jane’s family ran a legendary
consignment store back in the day), old friends and the small tribe of local hoarders
and collectors, along with the occasional tourist. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The scroungers were a diverse group –
from High School history teacher Roy Danvers to Sam Trikilis, my garbage man;
from landscapers and masons to Sheriff Bob Bulmer and a dot com millionaire who
had just bought the giant house next door. The music from his parties on those
early summer nights made Jane feel like Nick Carraway in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Great Gatsby.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The kids all pitched in, Caroline
talking up the merchandise and horse-trading the prices, Tim manning the cash
box. Jane’s son Sam helped carry the smaller items to the cars. The sale went
well and the rain let up in the early afternoon, with a fresh south wind
tearing the clouds apart, revealing ragged patches of blue sky. In accordance
with another long-standing Stiles family tradition, we skimmed some of the cash
proceeds and treated ourselves to dinner for five at the Sconset café.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">That was Sunday night. Tuesday morning
Jane noticed that her fore-edge books were missing. She hadn’t included them in
the sale and never would. They had belonged to her grandfather and she had
inherited them after a scuffle with her sister, who had taken the five volumes
from the old man’s house the day he died, along with a Matisse screen and
various other valuables. Fortunately the will specified that Jane got the
books, and she managed to recover them. Her sister already had them packaged up
and ready to auction off on e-Bay.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I had never seen a fore-edge book
before and neither had my kids. They’re the perfect artifact for a detective,
because the art they feature – in the case of Jane’s books, paintings of
various Nantucket landmarks – is hidden. The images only appear on the outside
edge of the pages when you fan the book open. With the book closed, there’s no
way to know the pictures exist.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">It’s a book! It’s a toy! Tim seemed
particularly fascinated with the trick, as well as the subject matter, Many of
the featured destinations no longer existed – the black Washing Pond water
tower, the old Straight Wharf theater. He even said he’d love to buy one if he only
had the money and Jane was willing to part with it. I think she found his enthusiasm
touching.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">But then, on Tuesday, she saw him
riding away from her cottage on his bike with his school backpack bulging. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">And the books were gone.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">It may seem like an open-and-shut
case from this brief description: Tim had motive and opportunity. But Jane was
mostly living with me that summer, and only used the cottage for a writing
studio. Most of the time the place was deserted and she’d never even owned a
key to the front door. Anyone who’d been snooping around at the sale could have
come back for what my old boss in L.A., Chuck Obremski, used to call a
“five-finger discount”. Everyone there had a motive, and anyone who took the
time to study Jane’s routines had an opportunity.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">But Tim was the only one Jane saw at
the scene of the crime.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I hate to even bring this up,” she
said that night after dinner. We had strolled into town and were walking along
Easy Street. She sat down on one of the benches facing the harbor.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Tell me,” I said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">So she did.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">We sat in silence for a while.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“You know he didn’t do it,” I said
finally.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I hope he didn’t. But he was out
there by himself the day after the sale. What was he doing there?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I don’t know.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“You’re going to have to ask him.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Yeah.” Then after a few moments:
“How would it work in one of your books?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">She relaxed a little, reached out a
hand to let a passing Labradoodle take a sniff. She had time for one quick
ruffle behind the ears before the owner, a slim blond in a yoga outfit, yanked
him away. Jane squinted in thought. “You’d need parts of all five books to
crack a code. Or maybe they’d be clues to some kind of crazy scavenger hunt.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“How about someone just taking them
and selling them to collectors?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Naaa. Too boring.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“But this is the real world, and
they’re worth a lot of money.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I guess.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Tim doesn’t need money. He’s a kid.
He gets an allowance.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Unless he’s on drugs. Or something.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“But he’s not. I know the signs. And
so do you.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">She nodded. We sat for a while more.
An artist started setting up to paint the view. “You still need to talk to
him,” she said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I shrugged. “Interrogations are my
specialty.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Innocent until proven guilty,” Mike
Henderson said, the next day, riding shotgun i9n my cruiser. “Not too many
people really believe that. In America it’s more like you’re guilty even after
you’re proved innocent – like O.J. Simpson, or that car guy. DeLorean. He was
acquitted, too. But everybody knows he sold coke to finance his car company.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“You’re a cynical man, Mike,” I said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Which makes me normal. And you’re
not cynical at all – which makes you kind of a freak, to be honest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But in a good way.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Especially right now.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I was investigating the burglarized
job sites, talking to the families. I had Mike with me because I wanted his
painter’s eye on the crime scenes, and I was curious to see how he’d react to
the victims. More importantly, I wanted them to see Mike<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>on good terms wioth the Chief, and cooperating
with law enforcement. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Nothing we had found out so far made
his case look any better. Two houses had surveillance cameras working
year-round, and both had been crudely disabled. One had a piece of the burlap
landscapers used to wrap shrubs against the cold blocking it. Hungry deer
chewed through the burlap sometimes, and the wind could have blown a scrap
against the lens. But this piece of fabric was cut cleanly, with a knife – like
the Swiss Army knife that Mike always carried. The other house was even more
damning. What looked like bird droppings obscuring the camera lens turned out
to be paint – the very paint Mike had been using on the job. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The victims didn’t share my quaint
beliefs about innocence and guilt any more than Mike did. They weren’t pleased
to see him, but they had to pretend to welcome me. At least I got detailed
inventories of the missing items. “My <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">belongings</i>,”
one of the women moaned to me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“A Stickley table, two Tiffany lamps,
a first edition of the 1930 Random House Moby Dick with the Rockwell Kent
illustrations. You have quite an eye, buddy,” he said to Mike.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Someone does.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I sighed. “It’s hard to hate a
criminal who loves Rockwell Kent.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“He doesn’t love Rockwell Kent! He
knows he can get a couple of grand for the book. He’s probably sold it
already.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Cynic.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">We caught a break on the last house
Mike had painted. A hulking pile on Medouwe Creek road in Polpis, Mike still
had the keys and the alarm codes. The family wasn’t going to arrive for another
week. As usual they had threatened to be on island by Memorial Day to crack the
whip on the tradesmen, but weren’t actually due until the Fourth of July. “They
think we work because we’re afraid of them,” Mike said. “Actually we work
because we want to get paid. False panic is not required.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">It was a perfect late June day, the
island lush and green after a rainy spring, the sky a flawless blue. Even the
humidity had broken. We approached the silent house over the perfectly
manicured lawn and Mike said, “This is what they pay the million dollars for. A
day like this. But look --” he pointed to the small squat city of air
conditioning condensers buzzing at the side of the house. “The most delicious
sea breeze in America and they never even open their windows. That’s the new
money around here in a nutshell.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“An impeccably climate controlled
nutshell,” I added.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Exactly. Well, here we are.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">He let us in, and poked the alarm
code into the pad by the front door.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Did you notice anything missing?” I
asked as we walked in the hotel lobby chill of the foyer.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">He shrugged. “I really don’t pay that
much attention.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Not a great slogan for a house
painter.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Come on, Chief! I notice a bad cut
in, okay? I’m the king of latex touch up. But I’m not casing the joint when I’m
supposed to be stripping the trim.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I looked around the massive “great
room” with its thirty foot ceiling and wall of fifteen light French doors. “So
you’re finished here.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Yeah. We packed up yesterday.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“But the cleaning people haven’t
started.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I think they come in tomorrow.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Well, that’s a plus.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I found the stain ten minutes later.
I saw it as an irregularity in the pattern of a woven cotton area rug, sticking
out from the hem of the cloth draping an end table. I was on my knees sniffing
it when Mike walked up behind me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Did you spill coffee here?” I said,
moving the table aside. The lamp teetered and Mike reached out to steady it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“No.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“You’re sure?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“No coffee on the job. That’s one of
my rules. People leave the cups around, or knock them over. It looks bad –
unprofessional. Most of my customers don’t even let their kids eat anywhere but
the kitchen. They’re neat freaks. You have to respect that.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I nodded. “Well someone spilled
hazelnut coffee here. Take a sniff.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">He got down, put his nose to the rug.
Standing, he said, “Yeah. And it’s fresh. Maybe a couple of days old, tops.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I pointed down to the wedge of carpet
between the couch and the end table. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Crumbs,” he said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I smiled. “A trail of bread crumbs.
Just a like a fairy tale.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">He bent down, picked one up on a
moistened finger tip, touched it to his tongue. “But this was a cookie.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">We moved the table aside and found a
small triangular wedge hidden under the skirt of the couch. I pulled on a latex
glove, took an evidence bag and a pair of tweezers from my pocket and dropped
the cookie chunk inside. “Now we figure out where this came from and who
ordered it with a hazelnut coffee.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Mike shook his head in amused
disgust. “And learn what kind of lazy pig brings treats and coffee to his own
crime scene.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“And spills the coffee and laughs
because he knows they’ll blame it on the painter.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Story of my life.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The next part was easy. Michelle at
Fast Forward – we’d been friends since I gave her a copy of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The House at Pooh Corner</i> to exorcise the
Disney demons from her daughter’s mind – identified my evidence instantly. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">She took it on her tongue for a few
seconds, wincing at where it had been, then spit it out onto a napkin and gave
it back. “That’s one of Dany’s health cookies. No dairy, no eggs, no sugar. She
makes them with tahini. They’re totally unique.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“So … does anyone order hazelnut
coffee and one of these?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">She thought for a minute or two while
she poured a few cups of coffee for nervous customers. I was wearing my uniform
and everyone was feeling guilty about something.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Michelle made change for someone and
turned to the other girl behind the counter. “Angie? Can you think of anyone?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Just Bob Bulmer. The Sheriff? But he
drinks decaf. Does it matter if it’s decaf?”<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Not really.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Is he in trouble?” Michelle asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“No, no. Though you have to wonder
about someone who drinks hazelnut decaf.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Now what?” Mike asked me later as I
drove him back to his job site.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I looked up at the imposing
three-story shingled pile, dormers lined up on the steep roof, presided over by
the freshly painted widow’s walk. “Now we stake out this place -- and catch him
in the act.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">But we were too late. Mike had been
working downstairs and hadn’t ventured into the finished bedrooms for weeks. A
quick walk-though the second floor told the tale like a tour guide: picture
hooks where paintings had hung, end tables with circles in the dust, dents in
the carpet where an antique dresser had stood.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Mike looked like he was about to cry.
“If we don’t find this stuff before the Binghams show up … Jesus. Someone hates
me.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Someone’s stalking you,” I said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“What?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“It’s the only way they could get in
to these houses. You unlock the doors. You disable the alarms.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Yeah. But I’m always – oh shit.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“What?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I drive into town for lunch, or to
pick up some supplies from Marine, and sometimes I – it’s a hassle locking up
and setting the alarms if I’m only going to be gone for half an hour. And also
… they monitor the systems. I don’t want my customers knowing when I’m gone or
how long I take for lunch. It’s none of their business.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“And who’s going to know? Or notice?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Exactly! This isn’t inner-city
Detroit. What is a burglar supposed to do? Try every mansion and hope for an
unlocked on and then try every unlocked one for a disconnected alarm?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“No, Mike. He’s supposed to choose a
house painter, track his movements and use the time, however long it is, when
he leaves the house open, to do the burglaries. Then the burglar just waits.
The homeowners come back in the summer and the painter gets the blame. If he
really does hate you, it’s a win-win.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“So this is about the Bradley?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Bulmer had pushed a warrant through
Town Meeting the year before. He wanted the town to buy him a U.S Army surplus
Bradley Fighting Vehicle. Some prominent citizens took his side in the debate
including Jonathan Pell, the new CEO of Logran Corporation and a consortium of
real estate brokers who were concerned about property values. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">But you have to see a Bradley to
realize how crazy this idea was. It’s a small tank, perfect for enforcing
Martial Law in a conquered city – a deranged and surreal choice for Nantucket. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Mike had said some harsh things about
Bulmer – calling him a would-be tin-pot dictator and a fascist blowhard. David
Trezize ran Mike’s guest editorial in the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nantucket
Shoals</i>, and the link on the little newspaper’s website had been shared more
than a thousand times.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The Bradley was voted down by
acclamation.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">A bad defeat; and Bulmer was famous
for his grudges. That sounded like a motive to me. And as Sheriff, Bulmer’s
main job was driving around – mostly he delivered summonses. He had plenty of
free time for surveillance.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">But some wild conjectures, a coffee
stain and a handful of cookie crumbs weren’t enough to arrest him for. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">And I had another suspect to deal
with.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The next day I took Tim to Something
Natural. We got a pair of lobster salad sandwiches, some Matt Fee tea and a
couple of bags of chips. We drove out to the new standpipe on Washing Pond
Road. The gate was open and we cruised past the giant white metal water tank to
the grassy verge that overlooked the jumble of houses that edged the western
moors. I explained the situation while we ate. The strong south wind nudged my
cruiser.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I didn’t take those books,” he said.
“I swear. Where would I even put them? Someone would see them. Carrie would
tell on me.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I nodded, finished my iced tea. “So
what were you doing out there?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Nothing.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Come on. That’s a long bike ride for
nothing.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Dad!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Tell me.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“It’s private.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">He stared away, out the car window,
following a red-tailed hawk as it circled the valley. I was going to have to
put this one together myself. Jane had seen him at the bookshelf. The comment
about the fore-edge book, must have been a hasty improvisation to cover
whatever it was he was really doing there. The sudden interest in antique end
paper watercolors had struck me as a little odd anyway. I had studied Jane’s
library myself and there was no adolescent contraband there, nothing racy
beyond a copy of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lolita</i>. But Jane
kept some photographs her ex-husband had taken off her, the only ones where she
had ever looked good, or so she said. She was planning to crop one of them for
a new dust-jacket portrait. “The whole picture might sell more copies,” she had
joked when she showed it to me. She was topless, coming out of the water at
Pickle beach, our informal nude bathing strand. And Jane was right – she looked
great in the photo - -sea nymph, slim and girlish, perfect fodder for a seventh
grade crush.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Tim would never admit to finding that
picture and I would never force him to. I needed a new tactic.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Okay,” I said. “I have to tell Jane
something, so let’s think of a reason you might have been out there. Not the
real reason – whatever it was. That’s none of my business. As long as you
didn’t actually steal anything.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Are you kidding? I would never do
that.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I keyed the car and started backing
up. “Here’s a lesson from the adult world. If you’re suspected of something,
confess to something else. Something not as bad but maybe … a little
embarrassing?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Like what?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Well … Jane has a collection of
vintage Barbies at the cottage. Maybe you were playing with them.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“But those are girls’ toys!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Exactly. So you wouldn’t
automatically admit it, the initial denial is explained … and no one ever
thinks about whatever it was you were really looking at.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">He thought about this as we turned
off Washing Pond Road and headed back into town. “You’re sneaky,” he said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“But for a good cause.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Barbies? Really?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“It’ll be great. Jane will think
you’re a budding feminist.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I am a budding feminist.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I patted his knee. “Good for you.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I was on a roll that week – Mike
Henderson’s case came together the next day. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Pat Folger called to tell me he had
found squatters in one of the houses he did caretaking for. The illegal tenants
were brothers from Ecuador who worked for Quidnet Land Design, one of the
biggest gardening firms on the island. Pat knew I was interested in squatters
and their stories. These three had been evicted from Bob Bulmer’s house on
Essex Road. The area was known for its barracks-style housing, with as many as
twenty people crammed into three or four bedrooms, all paying a thousand
dollars a month for the privilege of heat, running water and a roof over their
heads. It was a great deal for the landlord, though.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">So why would Bulmer have evicted
them?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Maybe he had an even more profitable
venture going. Maybe he needed the space for storage.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">But how to find out? I decided to
reverse the tactic I had shared with Tim. Bulmer’s barracks housing scheme was
illegal, but fairly common, and we cracked down on the worst offenders from
time to time. Bob knew he got a free pass from the town because of his law
enforcement position. But that was going to change. I called Paul Higgins, our
Building Inspector, and he agreed to make a surprise visit to the Essex Road
house, looking for safety violations or an overtaxed septic system. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I’d be there to check out the real
crime.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Bob had no idea I suspected him of
anything beyond some building code violations and so he was happy to give us a
tour of his now-empty house.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I found Jane’s fore-edge books
prominently displayed on the mantel, between two of her sitting-dog bookends.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Bob waved a pudgy hand around the
living room. “No illegal tenants! Are we good?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I hefted one of Jane’s books. “I’m
good, Bob. But you’re busted.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">When I told Jane the story later that
night she said “Bullmer, ugh. I think he was rifling through my photographs,
too. They’re all in different order now.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Does it bother you? Him seeing, you
know -- the uncropped versions?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">She shrugged. “A little. But what the
hell. Boys will be boys.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Right you are.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I remembered my boy, as we sat by the
water tower, his face turned away in shame, and thought, you’ll never know how
right. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">But that secret was safe with me.<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p>Axelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09627668511171741211noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18430290.post-52970266771335305182021-11-07T04:36:00.002-08:002021-11-10T03:56:39.173-08:00Pressure Group: A Mitchell Stone short story.<p> </p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjxlm1c6b-eFGO-FrsFGdRthZvUdd_8UG32DZc2Awm84CPTML09Mhb2lzm2opzFaUHe9z2JczgtJprcOWMSKeVCzAJDtA_lAl1sjOyhS6oox_GeoUrAof0rZUDlnXzDU5vgdR0bw/s233/white+crow+image.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="233" data-original-width="216" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjxlm1c6b-eFGO-FrsFGdRthZvUdd_8UG32DZc2Awm84CPTML09Mhb2lzm2opzFaUHe9z2JczgtJprcOWMSKeVCzAJDtA_lAl1sjOyhS6oox_GeoUrAof0rZUDlnXzDU5vgdR0bw/s0/white+crow+image.jpg" width="216" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 2.5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 2.5in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">1<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Senator Graham Farley (D. Tennessee) was
staying for a week at the Kerry house on Hulbert Avenue – that was what gave
Mitch the idea. The “centrist” lawmaker had been single-handedly stalling his
party’s agenda in Congress for months, and you didn’t need a think-tank research
paper to know that if all the big bills stalled out before 2022, the
Republicans would take control of Washington again, and as far as a practical
man like Mitchell Stone could see, that would more or less constitute the end
of the world. The world was close enough to the edge as it was, with hairline congressional
majorities that could be overturned by one ignorant southern cracker in the
wrong place at the wrong time. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Mitch had become friendly with Police Chief
Henry Kennis’ outspoken mother, and often visited her at the Island Home. She
had put it best on his last visit: “You can’t get a decent education in the
south, even if you’re white.” Farley was the ideal case-in-point: he seemed to
think the filibuster was written into the Constitution. In fact, the Founding
Fathers had required a supermajority for some matters – approving treaties,
over-riding vetoes, voting for impeachment. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>But not for
ordinary legislation. Hadn’t anyone told Farley that? They must have. But
ordinary forms of persuasion had clearly not worked and people rarely changed
their minds on any subject, even in the face of overwhelming evidence. Medicine
changed “one funeral at a time” because even so obvious an advance as scrubbing
before surgery was fought literally to the death by the older generation of
doctors.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>You couldn’t
convince a doctor to wash his hands.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>How were you
going to convince “Grappling Hook” Graham Farley to vote down the filibuster?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>You weren’t.
You couldn’t.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Mitch had other
plans. He had toyed with them while doing easy mindless jobs, installing strip
oak flooring, shingling a house. He liked to think that his active operations
days were behind him … apart from breaking up the occasional bar fight or<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>performing an occasional bit of DIY mask
enforcement. He wasn’t going to stalk Farley through Washington D.C., or break
into the man’s Signal Mountain estate. Mitch had retired from intelligence
work, he had a real job, he had a kid to raise. He wasn’t going out of his way
to disrupt the life he had expended so much effort to construct for himself.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>But now Farley
had come to him, spending the congressional recess at a friend’s house on
Nantucket.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The temptation
was irresistible.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Mitch did a
couple of drive-bys in the next few days, once in Billy Delavane’s truck, once
on a rental moped, once more in his adopted son Alex’s rebuilt Range Rover. He
cruised the house on foot, both from the street and the beach. The doors and
windows were alarmed and a detail of six Secret Service agents guarded the placee
24-7. They had taken over the mansion across the street for an observation post
– Mitch could see the glint of cameras and rifle scopes from the upstairs
windows.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The house
sported a “widow’s walk” a roof deck used for fighting roof fires in the
whaling days, but now a luxurious venue for evening cocktails or a quiet
afternoon with a book. The hatches that opened onto attic stairs were rarely
wired against intruders; the sole Secret Service agent Mitch had seen on point
up there confirmed the speculation. Even the man’s presence was a formality –
you’d have to climb the house to access the widow’s walk, and the climb
presented a sheer cliff of grey cedar shakes more than forty feet high, every
inch of it visible from below.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Of course, to
see a human fly on that wall, you’d have to be conscious. Knocking out the
sentries would be easy enough but the primary tactical asset was built into the
house itself. The corner boards featured a rising series of rectangular blocks
called quoins. Originally used as structural re-inforcements, they were
primarily decorative now, but they made excellent hand and foot holds. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Mitch had no
idea how long Farley was staying on-island – the Senator could cut his visit
short at any time and for any reason -- so he had to move fast. The next night
was cloudy with a waning moon. At a little before two in the morning, when people
were tired and attention was lax, Mitch dressed in black, grabbed work clothes
for the next day, slipped his K-bar knife into a sheath on his belt and drove
to Madaket, at the west end of the island. He borrowed Billy Delavane’s big
paddle board; he’d done it many times before. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Mitch drove
back toward town, passing few cars and no police vehicles. He took the left on
Eel Point Road and cruised past the boulder that marked the path to the public
beach at Dionis. Two houses farther along, a giant mansion loomed above the
street on low hill. Pat Folger was building an addition, to house the <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the owner’s <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>absurdly elaborate model train set. The family
was safely off island, self-quarantining in their Bel Air compound, three
thousand miles away. No one would look twice at a truck in the driveway.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He let himself
into the house, tapped in the alarm code and set his work clothes – vintage
Killen construction “Death and Resurrection” t-shirt, jeans, steel-toed boots,
socks and underwear, on top of Pat Folger’s tool chest in the great room. Mitch
was always the first person on the job site, so no one would be surprised to
see him banging up crown moldings when they arrived. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The job-site
was an hour’s walk from Hulbert Avenue. It would have been quicker to launch
from Children’s beach or even Steps; but Mitch wasn’t planning to be anywhere
near town when he was making his getaway. Too much could go wrong. Town was a
trap.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He closed up
the house, hauled the big surfboard out of the truck bed and started back
toward the beach. The walk took ten minutes, including a scramble over the high
dunes that blocked the Sound. Then the real hike began. Jogging on the packed
sand near the water for part of the time, he closed the distance in just
forty-five minutes. fifty yards from the mansion, he settled in to study the
place, setting the board on the sand and sitting on it among the over turned
kayaks and canoes and row-boats, a darker shadow among the other shadows.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">After half an hour one of the guards walked
out to check the beach, lighting a cigarette and looking out over the still,
inky harbor to the breakwater. When the cigarette was finished, he turned back to
the house. Mitch picked up the board and followed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He had to
decide: take out all the guards or try not to disturb any of them. The corner
of the mansion was in shadow. The one camera mounted on the building was
pointed at the street. He saw no one nearby. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">He chose stealth.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">A quick dash to the south side of the shingled
chateau, then he had his first hand-hold. He pulled himself up from quoin to
quoin, a four-legged spider on a drainpipe. As he came level with the second
floor he heard a movement below him, and he froze, finger joints aching, check
pressed to the damp glossy paint. A pale breeze carrying the hint of rain
touched his face. The guard below spoke into a walkie talkie. Mitch heard the static
rush of the connection but couldn’t make out the words. Footsteps crunched over
the shell driveway toward the front entrance. Another minute and then Mitch
resumed the climb. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He reached the
gutter and moved hand over hand along it, dangling over the second-floor deck. When
he judged he was below one of the big dormer windows, he pulled himself upright,
got his feet under him and balanced on the wooden lip. He straightened up and
leaned forward until his palms brushed the edge of the dormer roof. With a firm
grip on the rake, he walked up two steps up the pitch, mounted the dormer and
hoisted himself to its peak. Standing there, he shoved off to grab one of the
widow’s walk supports. A moment later he was peering through the spindles.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The Secret
Service agent snored softly, stretched out on a teakwood beach chair. Mitch
expelled a long breath. This was a violation of article 113 of the UCMJ. The
guy wouldn’t be executed, we weren’t at war, but he could face some serious
time in the stockade if they caught him snoozing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Mitch eased
over the railing, ghosted past the guy, eased open the hatch and poured himself
down the ladder to the third floor hall.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Mitch guessed Farley
would be in the guest suite one floor down. He eased the door open a crack and
slipped into the living room. A couch, two chairs, a flat screen over the
fireplace; a door to the master bedroom and a short passage showing two more
doors. A<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>bathroom and a smaller bedroom.
A quick peek: a woman in her late fifties was sleeping alone. That would be
Sandra Farley, the wife. Separate bedrooms. Maybe Farley snored. Maybe he
hogged the bed; maybe something worse. Happily married couples slept together, that
was Mitch’s experience. Even his own parents, however much they fought during
the day, wound up in bed together at night.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He back-tracked
to the master, entered and closed the door behind him. It was Farley, all
right, and the snoring had been another good guess.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The Senator woke
up with Mitch’s K-bar knife-blade pressed against his throat.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“What the --” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Shhhhhh.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The eyes bulged
but the old man kept his voice down. “Who are you? What do you want? How did
you get in here?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Mitch patted
the air in front of Farley’s head. “Whoa, whoa. One question at a time. In
order – I’m a patriot. And I want you to act like one. Getting into places like
this is one of my specialties.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You’re KGB!
Putin sent you to kill me!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Mitch had to
choke back a startled laugh. “Are you kidding? I’m sure Putin is thrilled with
you, Senator. His bots made two million robo-calls during your last campaign.
They accused your primary challenger of wanting to disband the police, force
women to get abortions and turn Tennessee into a Socialist gulag. Once all the
bibles and guns were confiscated.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That’s not far
from the truth.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Are you
kidding me? It’s not even related to the truth enough to be a lie.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Now you listen
–”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What is
socialism?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Just define it
for me. It’s all you talk about on the campaign trail. So what is it?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“It’s communism
with a smiley face! It’s mob rule.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Wrong, sorry.
The word derives from the Latin – <i>Sociare</i>. To share. It means Government
oversight over corporations, and workers having a say in the businesses they
work for, and a security net like the Medicaid expansion you voted against last
year. It’s capitalism with a leash on.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Farley thrashed
himself to a sitting position. Mitch pulled the knife away before it could cut the
old man. “This is insane! It’s almost three o’clock in the morning. I have to
be in Washington tomorrow. I have an early plane to catch. I can’t be debating
politics with some random lunatic. I demand --”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You’re in no
position to demand anything. Raise your voice and I’ll cut your throat.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He subsided
against the headboard. “What do you want?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Tomorrow
you’re going to inform Nancy Pelosi that you plan to vote with her to end the
filibuster.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“So, you’re a
lobbyist!” He laughed and Mitch laughed with him. “It’s satisfying to meet an
honest authentic thug who comes at you with a knife instead of bag of cash. I’d
rather be mugged than bribed.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“So don’t take
the money.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I have to take
the money. You might as well say don’t breathe the air.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>They stared at
each other for a few seconds. “Just vote down the filibuster.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Or what?
You’ll kill me? And my wife? Oh yes, you’d have to kill her too because she
would just take over my seat and she believes in the filibuster and the glory
of bipartisan legislation even more than I do. You’ll turn us into martyrs.
They’ll say we died to save Democracy. Can you allow that to happen?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’m willing.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“But are you
able? If I tell you that I’ll vote the way you want, you’ll have to believe me
or this whole fantastic charade would be futile. And if I am lying -- and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>by God, young man I most certainly would be!
-- you’d never get this close to me again. I’ll be a hundred times better
protected than I was tonight, with a detailed memory of your face to give the
FBI.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The manhunt for you will flood this
island like a storm surge. They’ll hound you to the ends of the earth and
crucify you as a traitor.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I can take
that chance. Can you?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“It doesn’t
matter. Because I can see looking into your eyes that you’re not a killer. Oh,
you talk a good game. I have no doubt you’ve taken a life or two, on the
battlefield, on some secret mission or other, maybe in the street, in
self-defense. But not in cold blood. You’re not an assassin. Not anymore.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Mitch stood up and sheathed his knife. Farley
was right. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was shrewd and he was
tough. It made sense. You didn’t become a Democratic Senator in a state like
Tennessee if you didn’t know how to read people – and call their bluffs.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Mitch stared
down at the jowly, sleep-rumpled face. “So what can we do? You can’t be bullied
and you can’t be threatened. And nothing will change that stubborn, still-born
mind of yours.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Plus, time was
running short. Mitch knew he couldn’t linger here much longer. Was that a
footstep from beyond the door? One of the Secret Service people? He held his
breath, listening. Farley squinted up at him, baffled – too deaf to catch the
creak of a floor board in another room. A<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>minute passed; then another, with no sound but the freshening wind
murmuring in the leaves outside. A car growled past, heading for town. A cop,
no doubt. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The creak must
have been the house settling. It was an old house, probably built at the end of
the eighteenth century. They made their own noises in the night, just like old
people did.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Farley cleared
his throat. “If you leave now, I won’t report you. There’s a French word – I
studied a year at the Sorbonne, you know— desmesure. Are you familiar with it?”
Mitch shook his head. “It translates, roughly, as an unfortunate excess of
passion. We have a lot of it, in America, we always have, from the John Birch
Society to Occupy Wall Street to the ‘Black Lives Matter’ and ‘Stop the Steal’
rioters.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“And me.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“And you.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Farley smiled,
thoroughly in control now. He was famous for taming rowdy Town Hall assemblies,
‘a cool cloth for the fevered brow’ he liked to call himself. Mitch felt like a
high school kid who had broken into the local Judge’s house on a dare. He had
actually been that kid, once upon a time. And the Judge had caught him, and the
Judge had let him go with a finger-wag and a warning.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Mitch felt his
will deflating, a punctured tire losing air fast. He’d be driving on the rim
soon. But there had to be something he could do or say, some leverage he could
exert. He looked around the shadowed bedroom – chair and desk, shelves and end
tables.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Nothing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>But wait.
Farley had shifted towards Mitch as he looked at the desk, some little
defensive movement that Mitch recognized from decades of dirty work in the world’s
dark corners. The Abu Sayyaf operative in Mindanao who had twitched into an
unnatural stillness when Mitch approached the hollowed-out television where had
had hidden the bricks of C-4; the Al Nusrah assassin in Damascus who had
flinched when Mitch stepped on the floorboard that concealed his stash of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ak-47 assault rifles. The body had dozens of
small tells, and even if you could control your face, the clench of your
shoulders or the bracing of your knees could give you away as clearly as a
signed confession. Mitch turned back to the desk.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The computer. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>There was
something on Farley’s MacBook Pro that he didn’t want Mitch to see – most
likely his search history. Mitch took a step toward the desk.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Wait!”
Farley’s hoarse whisper sounded like a shout smothered by a pillow.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Two steps and
Mitch was at the desk. He reached under the flower-patterned shade to turn on
the light, then opened the slim computer, revealing the screen and keyboard. He
laughed – a low grunt of appreciation. Boomers! They made it so easy. Farley
had a post-it with his pin numbers and passwords stuck to the screen.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Stop – don’t –
you can’t --”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Mitch turned on
the computer and the chime of the apple chord silenced the old man behind him.
The pin numbers and passwords were correct; the search history was damning.
Farley didn’t even know how to clear it! Mitch could have tracked the old man’s
web searches anyway, but it would have taken longer, and he would have needed some
expert help.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>There was a
rustle of sheets and then heavy footfalls on the floor. Still typing with his
left hand, Mitch reached around behind him and caught Farley at the throat. The
Senator’s frantic lunge stopped short as if he’d walked into a wall.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Mitch read the
website names aloud. “Pouting Pixies? Sweet Sixteen, Horse Girls? Jesus,
Graham. This is disgusting.” He opened the Horse Girls site. It was exactly
what he’d thought it would be. “You didn’t even cover your tracks. Ever hear of
the Tor network?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Farley gagged
against the hard circle of Mitch’s thumb and forefinger. “Thas private. You cann
ook aaa it.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Mitch eased his
grip. “Nothing’s private any more, Senator. You ought to know that by now.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The old man
gaped at him. “What … what … are you going to do?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’m going to
keep this computer. And you’re going to go back to Washington and start voting
like a real Democrat, starting with the filibuster. Your glory days are over.
You’re not the most powerful man in America any more, you’re just part of the
team again. And I will bench your ass in a heartbeat if you ever forget that.”
He gave a short push and Farley staggered backward. The edge of the bed caught
the back of his knees and he plopped down on the tangled sheets.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“This is where
I should ask if we understand each other,” Mitch said. “But I know we do. Try
to get some sleep, Senator. I want you to be fresh tomorrow. You’re going to
have a busy day.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Mitch grabbed
the computer and the charger, stuffed the cord in his pocket strode to bedroom
door and opened it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Farley’s wife
was frozen at the threshold in her nightgown and curlers, her face as white as
her hair. She had obviously been standing there since that floorboard had
creaked under her slippers.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She had heard
everything.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Sandra Farley
gaped at Mitch, wild eyed, her mouth moving silently, as if dozens of questions
were crowding there, like desperate fans at a festival seating rock concert.
Someone was going to be trampled to death before the first outraged question
got through the door, but Mitch didn’t have time for the carnage. Farley’s
ruined marriage was his own problem. The woman held out her hand to him in the
sudden stillness and silence – to implore him, to stop him, to ask some
impossible question? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It didn’t matter.
He had to go.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Mitch spun and
bolted for the door to the guest suite.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>One of the
security detail was moving up the hall. He must have heard something – Farley’s
heavy footfalls, or their voices. He froze when he saw Mitch. The man running
up behind him already had his gun out.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Halt! Larry,
get down!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Larry dove for
the floor. Mitch lifted the MacBook as the guard squeezed off a shot. The round
slammed into the computer and knocked it out of his hand. He twisted to catch
it as it fell, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and threw it hard, like a
rectangular frisbee. It hit the shooter in the forehead – an axe blow that
crumpled him. Mitch launched from his kneeling position and slammed into Larry
as he scrambled to his feet, whipping a knife hand edge strike into the guard’s
neck at the carotid artery. The blow was a guarantee – like pulling the master
switch on an electric panel. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Larry was out,
and Mitch was dashing for the back stairs before the body hit the carpet. He
could hear footsteps on the front stairs, more agents following the first two.
There would be a moment of confusion when they realized he was gone. He emerged
into the kitchen, crossed to the French doors and slipped out onto the patio
that faced the beach. The cigarette smoker’s walkie-talkie crackled to life and
Mitch could hear the timbre, if not the exact words, of the desperate orders
shouted from the second floor landing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He looked up
and saw Mitch as a moving shadow. Then he was down and Mitch was bounding over
the body to the beach. He grabbed the surfboard, slid it into the water, pulled
himself onto sticky fiberglass surface and started to paddle, angling out into
the dark water, before setting his course parallel to the shore.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Arc lights came on and scoured the beach, but
the beach was empty. Mitch heard sirens in the distance. The Secret Service
would never involve the local police, but some neighbor must have heard the gun
shot and dialed 911.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He paddled
hard, every stroke taking him closer to safety and farther from the blast
radius of his mission. But the mission had failed. He windmilled his arms,
digging out the mild water, lurching him forward, an efficient engine of
passage, watching the nose of the board skim the surface, gritting his teeth in
frustration. It wasn’t just that the gunshot had destroyed the computer, or
even that he had been forced to use it as a weapon and abandon it. He hadn’t
planned for the MacBook, and there was no way he could have carried it on the
paddle board without drenching it in brine. That improvisation would have hit a
dead end no matter what happened. Even abandoning the computer in the Sound
would have been preferable, though. The wrecked laptop would let Farley know
his secrets were safe. The old man’s luck was famous – he had won the Tennessee
Powerball lottery twice and famously been bumped off flight 93 on 9/11.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The “Farley Good Fortune” had come up three
cherries again. Despite Mitch’s best efforts, the Senator was in the clear,
free to pontificate and preen in the spotlight while the country burned and the
entire Democratic party from the President on down kneeled to kiss his ring.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It was
maddening – to come so close. And Farley was right – with the inevitable
increased security, Mitch would never get another chance. He’d had just one
shot, and he’d blown it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>One minor
consolation --- the getaway plan worked. While police blocked the choke points
on the island roads and threw a dragnet over the town, Mitch was first on the
job as usual, cutting trim with a miter box, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Billy’s surfboard resting in the bed of his
truck, his wet clothes stuffed into a contractor garbage bag. Mitch was
unusually quiet at work that day, in a foul mood that not even Billy Delavane
tried to lighten. The Op was burnt, life was hopeless and the world was doomed.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Or so it seemed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Then he went
home and watched the evening news.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Mitch was sitting on the old stained canvas
sofa – still solid and comfortable after thirty-five years, unlike the pricey
love-seat he his sister Susie had bought from Marine Home Center three years
before, which was already falling apart – watching The Situation Room on CNN.
Vicky was tucked in under his arm, Alex sat at the far end of the couch,
splitting the difference with his ubiquitous iPhone. Susie was slumped down in
her Dad’s old leather arm chair. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>They all sat
forward when Wolf Blitzer began his lead story, and even the somber
news-anchor’s face showed an unguarded amazement at the text he was reading.
Was it a prank? Had someone hacked into the teleprompter?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>But no, it was
just the news – good news, at last, after weeks of super storms, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Congressional gridlock, Delta variant carnage,
and wild fires:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“In a startling
and as yet unexplained change of direction for the Tennessee Senator, Graham
Farley has agreed to join with the Democratic majority, voting to end the
filibuster for basic legislative priorities. This is a crucial step for the
enactment President Biden’s ambitious first term agenda, potentially clearing
the way for both the 3.5 Trillion dollar infrastructure bill and the voting
rights bill H.R, which would solidify and strengthen the voting rights act of
1965, weakened by a series of Supreme Court decisions in the last decade. Jim
Acosta is at the Capital building with more on this breaking story. Jim?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>In bed, later,
Vicky rolled over onto Mitch’s stomach, and braced herself on her forearms to
look into his eyes. “I don’t get it.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I know.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You lost the
evidence.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I know.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Then how …?
Did he have a change of heart?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No way.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You talked him
into it.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I didn’t.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Then …”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Mitch thought
of that strange, beseeching look on Sandra Farley’s face, that outstretched arm
in the shadowed room, in the darkest hour of the autumn night.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 8pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“There’s
only one possible explanation. But it makes no sense.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 3.25in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Graham Farley
and his wife stood in the third floor living room of the C Street Center, a red
brick townhouse behind the Madison Building of the Library of Congress. The
building was crowded with other Republicans when the Senate was in session,
none of them very happy with Graham Farley tonight – but it was a five-minute
walk from the Capitol and Farley hated to drive.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>At a little
after midnight, they had the residence to themselves. Farley stood at the
window looking down at the rainy street. Sandra followed him and stood at his
back. A taxi with the new design – red with that funnel shaped stripe long the
side – rolled past. A couple walked arm in arm toward D Steet. The woman
laughed and the man pulled her closer. Sandra watched them stroll out of sight.
Had she and Farley ever been like that? She couldn’t remember.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Finally she asked, “Who was he?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I have no
idea.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“There must
have been an investigation.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Of course,
there was an investigation! I made sure Ted Mandler shut it down.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Century, serif; font-size: 12pt;">“He’s one of
six Deputies. The AAG would never --”</span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Ted has his
ways. And he understands the Big Picture.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Graham was very
much a student of the “Big Picture”. It usually showed him making the proper,
principled choices, no matter how corrupt and self-serving they were. You just
had to stand back far enough. With enough decorative shade trees, a suburb
could look like a forest from the proper height, when the leaves were out in
summer. But it was still a miserable set of tract houses where kids used to
pick raspberries.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Sandra expelled
a tired breath. “And what exactly is the ‘Big Picture’ here, Graham?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“And
investigation serves no one. It’s a lose-lose. It makes the Secret Service look
bad. It makes the Nantucket cops look bad. That guy was some kind of
self-styled hero. He probably wants to get caught! We don’t need to turn some
fanatic into a media darling. It would just bring out the copy-cats. Every
wild-eyed Marxist<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>break-and enter artist
would be crawling out of the woodwork to terrorize anyone they disagreed with!
No one would be safe.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Sandra waited
out the rationalizations, as she has waited out the airplane noise when she had
lived in Playa Del Rey. When Graham had landed his 747, she said quietly, “And
then there’s the search history on your computer.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Sandra --”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“If that comes
out it, will ruin you.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I have the
computer. The idiot left it at the house.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“With a bullet
in the hard drive.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Exactly!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You don’t
think people will wonder why exactly he was stealing it in the first place?
Once reporters get a sniff of scandal, they don’t stop, they just keep coming.
Those sites you … visit – they use cookies. Then can trace you, they can find
you, and then --”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That’s what
I’m trying to say! That’s the whole point, Sandra. We don’t let them start.
Nothing happened, no one was hurt. It’s a non-event.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He turned from
the window, walked to the armchair across the room and sat down heavily. Sandra
listened to the speckle of rain against the glass and let it soothe her. She
had always loved the sound of rain outside a warm house where she was dry and
safe.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I still want
to know who he is. There must have been finger prints on the iBook.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“There were.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“So?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“So, there were
no matches. On any database. The guy never had a brush with the law, never had
a job that required a security clearance, never served in the military.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“But he did.
That was what you told me.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I said he
acted like some kind on intelligence operative. I said he had the kind of
skills you’d learn in the Seals or a Marine Recon unit. But that doesn’t mean
anything. There’s plenty of dangerous people out there who never got a form
214. You can pick most of that stuff up on Youtube! The internet is incredible.<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She gave him a thin smile. “You
should know.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hey, come on,
honey, please --”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It was a mean-spirited
jab, and off-topic. She forged ahead. “If this intruder was some sort of spy,
his organization could have wiped his records. The NSA can do that. They
probably do it all the time. My bet is that this guy worked for some CAD
splinter group.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Okay, maybe.
That could be true. But what makes you think anyone at the Clandestine Action
Directorate would talk to me? They don’t even talk to the President.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You know Jerry
Skinner.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“He hates me.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You got him
his funding last year. How many department budgets did you have to skim to make
that happen?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Fine, yes, he
uses me. But he still hates me. He thinks I’m a worm. He said that. A worm!
Actually, he said I was the worm in the apple. Everything in front of me white
and fresh, everything behind me brown and rotten.” Sandra laughed – it was so
perfect. Graham glared at her as he went on. “The miserable little prick even
told me I don’t deserve you. Can you believe that? As if it was any of his
business! Said I was punching above my weight. I was tempted to show him a
thing or two about punching!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“But you
didn’t.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Of course, I
didn’t! I’m a U.S. Senator! I can’t be involved in street brawls with every
little creep who makes a remark.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“He’s not a
‘little creep’, Graham. He’s actually quite a gentleman. And he stands over six
feet tall. He’s had a little crush on me for years. I got him a table at the
Anchor Foundation gala, remember? I danced with him that night, and we flirted
a little. He does quite a respectable Rumba.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Jesus Christ.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Call him
tomorrow, Graham. Tell him we need to talk.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Mitchell Stone and Billy Delavane were
pulling the clapboards of a house on Gardner Street when the limousine pulled
up at the curb. The job was a favor to local painting contractor Mike Henderson.
The paint was peeling, and he knew it had to be water penetrating the wood from
inside the house. Clapboards were supposed to be “encapsulated”, sealed with
paint front and back, but contractors often skipped the crucial step of
back-priming the siding boards. Mike’s guess was right. The strips of wood were
bare against the house, completely saturated and heavy as iron.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“We dry these
puppies out for two weeks, they’ll be light as balsa wood,” Billy said as they
pulled the last one loose. “Then Mike can soak em in a couple of coats of good
oil primer and bingo. Problem solved.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Mitch grinned.
“And Mike gets paid.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Maybe. But the
bitch who owns this place is notorious for stiffing people. And least she’ll
have to find another excuse.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Mitch jerked a
thumb over his shoulder. “Is this her?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Billy turned to
see a woman climbing out of a black Chrysler 300. “Erica Haddon?,” he said. “
No way. She drives an old Subarau. She’s tight as a tick.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The woman was
clicking across the street in high heels. “Mitchell Stone?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Billy shot him
a look. “You know her?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Mitch nodded,
though Sandra Farley looked very different, coiffed and made-up in the morning
sunlight.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Could I have a
word with you, Mr. Stone? It will just take a moment. Perhaps you could ride
with me?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Sure.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Mrs. Farley
turned to Billy. “He’ll only be a moment. Can I could buy you coffee and a
scone? It’s that time of the morning. How do you take your coffee?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Billy smiled. “Black.
Thanks.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Mitch crossed
the street behind the Senator’s wife, and climbed into the dry cool air of the
leather back seat after her. He was a dirty sweaty mess, but she didn’t seem to
mind.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Where’s good?”
she asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“There’s a new
bakery on Centre Street. Born and Bread.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She smiled
“Clever.” She leaned forward, “Find a place to park near Center street,
Harris.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As they took
the right turn onto India Street, she said, “I’m sorry to disrupt your day, but
I very much wanted to thank you.” She twisted around to extend her hand. Mitch
shook it. “Sandra Farley.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He smiled.
“Good to see you again, Mrs. Farley.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Sandra,
please.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Sandra.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I imagine
you’re wondering how I found you, since the incident on Hulbert Avenue was
effectively hushed up, and there’s been no local or Federal investigation of
the break in.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“The thought
crossed my mind.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Jerry Skinner
directed me to you.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hold on -- ”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No, no, no …
he instructed me to tell you that neither your actions, your … ‘Quixotic
shenanigans’ he called them, nor this meeting, have any effect on your …
arrangement. He said that would reassure you. Does it?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Quixotic
shenanigans. That sounds like him, anyway.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You have
nothing to fear from Jerry Skinner.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“For the
moment.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes. I cannot
speak to the ultimate disposition of your association with Jerry. But for now,
all of that is off the table. We’re just two people talking, this morning. Two
citizens. With a common goal.” They had reached bakery. It had a line out the
door, and the only open parking space on Centre Street was handicapped
reserved. “Go around the block, Harris,” Sandra told the driver. “I’ll run in.
Black for you?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Mitch nodded
and she was out the door. The big car pulled away and turned down Broad Street.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Nice lady,”
Harris remarked.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yeah.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I take my
coffee with cream and two sugars. She gives me shit about that with my weight
and all. But she always remembers. Hell, she even remembers my daughter’s birthday.
She got Kelly a Lego Harry Potter set last year. All I could think was – wish
I’d thought of that. Kelly’s mom passed two years ago and … I’m not picking up
the slack that great. I was just figuring out how to do it with a partner.
Anyway … Sandy doesn’t say much. She just helps out.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I like that.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“She says you
do the same thing.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Not as much as
I should.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Harris grunted
a laugh. “Join the club, brother.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When Sandra
climbed back into the limo, she handed out the cups and napkins and treats, took
a sip, nodded her approval and said, “You’re puzzled.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You husband
told me the two you agreed on everything.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Did he?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“But you
obviously made this happen. You talked him into changing his mind.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I wouldn’t put
it that way, Mr. Stone.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He smiled.
“Mitch.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I blackmailed
him, Mitch. Just as you were planning to do.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That’s cold.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Well, things
have been cooling between us for quite a while.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“And you don’t
agree on everything.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I never did. I
listened and smiled. There’s a Frank Loesser song – ‘Marry the Man Today and
Change His Ways Tomorrow’.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Maybe he’s
leaving town.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She laughed. “A
millennial who knows <i>Guys and Dolls.</i>”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“We did it in
high school.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Who did you
play?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I worked the
light board.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“How
appropriate.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>They drove in
silence for a while, down the long straight stretch that led to Jetties Beach,
past the big mansions standing on reclaimed wetlands with their perfect
landscaping and their flooded basements. Those houses would all be gone in a
few years, as the waters rose. A hundred more years, it would all be a swamp
again. Reality was a tenacious motherfucker.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“So why did you
come here?” Mitch asked as they started up cobblestone hill toward Lincoln
Circle.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Just to see
you for myself. And thank you. So … thank you.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“My pleasure.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“We need to get
your friend his coffee, before it gets cold.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Before Mitch
climbed out of the car he said. “Are you going to divorce him?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Her smile was
bright and dangerous. “Heavens no, Mitch. We have a lot of work to do! And so
do you. There’s still that repellant little shrew in Colorado to de-program.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Mitch grinned. “I
bought my plane ticket last night. ACK to BOS to DEN. JetBlue flight 266.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Good for you.
Get home safe.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Harris tipped
his cap, and the big Chevy pulled away. It was good to have an ally. He handed
Billy Delavane his coffee and scone as the limo disappeared around the corner
of India Street He felt an exotic lightness of heart so strange it took him a
moment to identify it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He was feeling
hope and hope felt good.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He drained the
last of his coffee and got back to work. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></p><p></p>Axelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09627668511171741211noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18430290.post-84962098406500470462020-05-16T05:46:00.000-07:002020-05-16T05:51:46.512-07:00Getting to Know Your Characters<br />
<br />
Some writers make up elaborate "dossiers" and biographies for their characters before they start writing -- like the lists of "traits" we were supposed to compile for sixth grade book reports. I have always found that the only way I can get to know characters is to start writing them.<br />
<br />
A perfect case in point is the hero of my new thriller <i>White Crow. </i>He was originally introduced in the sixth Henry Kennis mystery, now slated for a June 2021 release. I hadn't given Mitchell Stone much thought -- or page space -- when I wrote his scenes in <i>Nantucket Penny. </i>I knew the rough outlines -- retired spy, coming home to Nantucket to take up residence at Police Chief Henry Kennis' badass sidekick. Spenser has Hawk, Elvis Cole as Joe Pike, Kenzie and Gennaro have Bubba Rogowsky. Kennis needed some muscle on his side.<br />
<br />
Several scenes in <i>Nantucket Penny </i>are described in <i>White Crow</i>, but from Mitch's point of view. The delay in publishing <i>Penny</i> has allowed me to revise those scenes. I know Mitch much better now, after writing him for 250 pages, and I'm glad to have the opportunity of correcting the earlier larval version of him I attempted a year ago when I was working on <i>Penny. </i>In the climax of that book, Kennis is about to shoot the villain -- currently helpless and disarmed, cringing on his knees in front of the anger-crazed police Chief. Mitch breaks Kennis's wrist with a kick as the Chief squeezes the trigger. The shot goes wild. When the red haze clears, Kennis has to live with the fact that he was willing to commit murder -- but he's been spared the reality of actually committing the crime.<br />
<br />
For clarity I should add that the cringing villain in question, Todd Fraker, had been planning to take revenge on his childhood tormentors -- including Henry's fiance, Jane Stiles -- by putting them on trial and hanging them from a gallows on Coatue, the narrow strip of barrier beach across the harbor from Nantucket town. Mitch planned the rescue operation, using kayaks for a stealthy approach. Until this morning I had never given a second thought to the gallows itself, and I was actually planning to "cut and paste" the brief post-mortem chat between ex-spy and police Chief, which takes place a few days after the climax of the book.<br />
<br />
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<br />
Here's how that scene originally appeared in <i>Nantucket Penny</i>:<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><i>Mitch Stone appeared at my
door the next morning, routing his daily run through Darling Street.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><i> He
stood on the little deck at the top of the front stairs. “You okay, Chief?”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><i> “I’m
fine.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><i> “I
was there, man. Remember?”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><i> “I’m
fine.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><i> A
small smile. “Good to hear.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><i> “The
Staties wanted to know if I was pressing charges against the individual who
broke my wrist.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><i> “What
did you say?”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><i> “I
told them I was going to call your girlfriend, find out what kind of beer you
drink, and buy you a case of it.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><i> He
shrugged. “No need.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><i> “Thanks,
anyway. For yesterday.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><i> “That’s
what friends are for. To protect us from ourselves.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><i> “So
we’re friends now?”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><i> “If
you want. I’ve had a lot of attrition in that area lately.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><i> “That
sounds ominous.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><i> “Let
me just say this, Chief. I’ve been where you were. I’ve done what you did.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><i> “Any
regrets?”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><i> “Now
and then. But I was always on my own – no back-up, no support. You had me. I
gave you a second chance out there. That’s a blessing.”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Here's what I came up with this morning, many months and many pages later, three quarters of the way through Mitch's book. I should add that among the things I discovered about Mitch in writing <i>White Crow </i>was that he was the kind of person who would rescue a teen age runaway, and wind up adopting him. Ricky Muller went from a casual thought to a major figure in both Mitch's life and the book that features him. I was surprised and reluctant, but like most people, I let Mitch take the lead. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Anyway, here's the scene from <i>Crow. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">As you could probably guess from the cliff-hanger last sentence, this is the end of a chapter ...</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> Mitch drove back to Coatue to pick up the last kayak.</i></span><i style="font-family: century, serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">He stood on the far side
of the yellow crime scene tape strung between the shack and the gallows. Two uniforms
lounged beside their blue State Police SUV.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i>The noose was still
dangling from the upright cross beam.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> It
was an obscenity.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> And
two nights later, it burned to the charred dune grass. You could see the torch
from all over the island. Some people said you could see it from the mainland. Technically a case of arson,
trespassing and malicious destruction of property, the investigation of the
crime was cursory at best and wound up shelved as unsolved.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> Mitch
brought it up when it stopped by Chief Kennis’ house on Darling Street a few
days later.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> “Any
idea who might have set that fire, Chief?”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> Kennis
smiled. “We suspect Muslim terrorists. Or possibly, disgruntled immigrants. Those
are some bad hombres.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> “I
was thinking of guerilla real estate brokers. A gallows across the harbor tanks
the property values.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> “I’ll
look into it.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> A
companionable silence bloomed between them. A gardener’s truck rattled past
toward Pine Street.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> “Did
Jane bring marshmallows?”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> Kennis
shook his head. “No Hershey bars, no graham crackers. The occasion was a too somber
for s’mores, Mr. Stone.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> “Of
course. Sorry.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> “They
told some stories, put out some grass fires, passed around a flask of scotch
and went home.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> “Quite
a day out there.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> “The
Staties wanted to know if I was pressing charges against the individual who broke
my wrist.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> “What
did you say?”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> “I
told them I was going to call your girlfriend, find out what kind of beer you
drink, and buy you a case of it.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> He
shrugged. “I like Kronenbourg. But it’s hard to find on Nantucket.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> “There’s
a lot that’s hard to find here.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> Mitch
nodded. “Big Macs, fountain pens and ammunition.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> “Among
other things.” A lady walked by with two pugs on the leash. Kennis nodded to
her. She smiled and lifted a hand.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> Kennis turned back to Mitch. “So what brings a
world traveler like you to Nantucket?”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> “What
brings an LAPD cop to Nantucket?”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> “My
ex-wife’s family were summer people for years.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> “Summer
people.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> “You
say that the way I say ‘shoplifters’. So I assume you grew up here.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> “You
don’t assume anything, Chief. After the school shooting you did your research. You
know everything there is to know about me. You know my father was an abusive
drunk. You know I was suspended from fifth grade for throwing snowballs at a
police cars. You pulled my Marine Corps service record. You have my whole life
on your computer.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> “Until
2009, when you disappear off the face of the earth.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> Mitch
shrugged. “Well, I’m back.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> They
eyed each other quietly, a steady assessing stare. And they came to their silent
agreement: Mitch wasn’t going to answer any more questions and Kennis wasn’t
going to ask them.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> Instead
he hoisted his cast from its sling. “Thanks for your help.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> “We
have a saying in the Marines, Chief. Two is one and one is none. You gotta have
back-up. Nobody hacks it alone.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> Some
kids on bikes rode by on Fair Street, shouting and laughing.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> When
they were gone Mitch said, “You think their parents know what they’re up to
today?”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> “I
certainly hope not.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> Mitch
squinted up at the cloudless early autumn sky. “Beautiful day.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> “Yeah.
Looks like things are back to normal finally.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> “Don’t
jinx it.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> “Good
point.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> But
it was a little too late. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i>As Mitch was driving back
to Quidnet that afternoon, Ricky Muller was two miles away in a friend’s guest
cottage, overdosing on oxycodone.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;">That's the Mitch Stone I know. What a difference a year makes -- and what a luxury, to be able to make these changes. <i>Nantucket Penny </i>was originally scheduled to come out in less than a month, with my vague notion of Mitch Stone permanent and indelible as an ink stain on a silk couch.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;">And the gallows still standing! </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;">Whew. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><i> </i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"> <span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 22.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
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<span style="font-family: "calibri light" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "mistral"; font-size: 22.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><br /></i>Axelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09627668511171741211noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18430290.post-36176468887686560802020-04-04T03:47:00.002-07:002020-04-12T03:25:27.814-07:00"White Crow" Facebook serial<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6EK3S_uPxOXDJvakjU6lF7OeQK94lXm2MusRRCu5SxwyxH_BoHRafwlvIpDfA6C9DFyZgETfGtiQKIO4_iSCTB6GrTA9xqiMKp38qaHmRHUN3vLZbb4CWbUHn0EbCVZxTZUaWGQ/s1600/crow+2.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="233" data-original-width="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6EK3S_uPxOXDJvakjU6lF7OeQK94lXm2MusRRCu5SxwyxH_BoHRafwlvIpDfA6C9DFyZgETfGtiQKIO4_iSCTB6GrTA9xqiMKp38qaHmRHUN3vLZbb4CWbUHn0EbCVZxTZUaWGQ/s1600/crow+2.jpe" /></a></div>
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One:<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "segoe script" , sans-serif; font-size: 24.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span></span></i></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "segoe script" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">September 7<sup>th</sup>
2019<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "segoe script" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitchell – If
you’re reading this, I am very likely dead, though I suppose there is some
small, heartening chance that we are sitting together over a dram of Jameson’s
Black Barrel, chuckling over my morbid fatalism, as I read this gloomy note
aloud. For the moment I am alive and dead at once, Schrödinger’s cat in a
sealed Embassy envelope, and hopefully a “hep” cat, as my Beatnik uncle used to
say.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "segoe script" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Did I make you
smile, there, dear boy? I always treasured being able to do that, just as I
treasure being able to muster a smile myself, even at a moment as dark as this
one.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "segoe script" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">To wit: I am now
convinced that Bradley Constable and his cohort at the<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>NSA’s Clandestine Action Directorate are
attempting to undermine, and discredit the Central Intelligence Agency, as one
part of a larger scheme to dismantle the entirety of what certain individuals
have taken to calling “The Administrative State”. As to the people behind CAD
and their ultimate purpose, I can only speculate, though we both know which
dangerous foreign actors would benefit most from such a disruption of our institutional
governance. <o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "segoe script" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Whatever the
ultimate outcome, months or years from now, the danger facing us this morning
is critical and immediate. An encrypted private communication from CAD asset
Nicholas Borolino, sent at great personal risk, has confirmed my worst
suspicions. I only fear that it has come too late, with you and Darren
incommunicado at Kilzilay Square. The actual purpose of your operation was to
very publically humiliate the CIA, who were to be blamed for your calamitous
misadventure. An ancillary benefit of this stratagem, or perhaps a central
feature of it, was to be the elimination of Longbow as a functional entity. If
we no longer exist, and have never been officially acknowledged, no blame for
this mission can be deflected onto us, and our friends in Langley will have to
take full responsibility for our blunder.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "segoe script" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">According to
Borolino, the server farm in Idaho backing up all our files has been destroyed
by a chemical fire, our operatives in five countries involved with CAD
operations have been rounded up and executed … I managed to send an alert to
our unassigned assets. Those with the resources to disappear will do so, I
hope. The operation was meant to include you and Darren, and may well have. I
am uncomfortably aware that I may be writing these words for no one and to no
purpose. <o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "segoe script" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">However, I
choose not to dwell on that prospect. Both you and Darren have proved
spectacularly hard to kill in the past.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "segoe script" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I know that I
will be questioned, to disclose the identities and whereabouts of all Longbow
personnel; I know just as well that I could never stand up to the “enhanced
interrogation” techniques employed by the intelligence community. <o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "segoe script" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">But don’t
concern yourself about that. If they come for me here, I will be dead before
they arrive.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "segoe script" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The only
remaining evidence that Longbow ever existed lies in<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>your hands, along with everything a DOJ
lawyer would need to disable the CAD and arrest its executive cadre for war
crimes, international narcotics trafficking,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>numerous human rights violations, and of course high treason. Bradley Constable
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>only met you once, no one else at CAD
has ever seen you, and even Brad never learned your real name or even your
nationality, as Longbow employs assets from half a dozen countries, all of whom
speak English at the “Native speaker” fluency level. One Dutch operative, whom
I have reason to think escaped the CAD dragnet, studied English in Texas and
speaks with an alarmingly authentic South Houston accent. The closed-cell
operation structure of Longbow means that no operational team is aware of any other,
so no, even if captured and tortured, no one can identify or locate you.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "segoe script" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">In other words,
dear boy, this is your white crow. <o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "segoe script" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">These files and
documents represent your final line of defense. I suggest turning them over to
a randomly selected lawyer with a simple DIRT protocol. Set the Designated
Interval Report Time trip wire for one week, choose a trusted media outlet to
receive the information – the Intercept?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The Washington Post? Al Jazeera? Perhaps all of them.. That will be your
best insurance. <o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "segoe script" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I know your
first impulse will be to turn these documents and files over immediately. I beg
you not to sacrifice yourself in this way. Frankly, I’m not even sure it would
do much good. You would only slow the process down, not stop it. Still, while
the documents remain hidden and the results of making them public remain
unknown, these people will fear you. That by itself might save your life.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "segoe script" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">You’ve given the
last twenty years to the service of your country and your country hasn’t done
very much for you in return – not that you ever asked. You’ve always been a
hero. I know that better than anyone. So this is my final request: Be an
ordinary man for a little while. I will die happy if I can believe that some
good has come from this ruinous betrayal.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "segoe script" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Take your life
back, and live.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "segoe script" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">You’ve earned
it.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "segoe script" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">--Walter</span></i></b><span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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TWO:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Deitz returned with a can
of beer in his hand. Mitch half-stood to pass him the<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>letter. Extending his arm drove a needle into
his bruised ribs. The pain seemed to focus his sorrow and his rage. The hate
thundered through him --<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>an express
train through a local station -- deafening the ears, battering the nerves in a
blast of filthy wind. He sat as he had stood during those trips to the city as
a boy, hands jammed over his ears, waiting for the train to pass, waiting for
the assault to end.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He wanted to kill them all
– Constable and the rest CAD gangsters, and all the politicians who backed them
and the money people behind the politicians, all of them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">But it was pointless.
Walter was right.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Walter – writing that
letter, minutes ahead of the attack, with saxitoxin pill sitting on the desk
beside him. He could have run, and left his agents to be captured or killed, he
had the resources to disappear, Mitch had seen the beach house in Costa Rica,
purchased by a shell company years before, untraceable. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Instead Walter had chosen
to remain, to hide the files and documents, to secure his protégé’s future, to
scrawl a last message -- unhurried, unflappable, with all of his old
self-denigrating charm, the wry smile that dismissed sentiment and self-pity.
This was a person who as a twelve year old boy, fleeing a house fire, returned
to gather up his sister’s Breyer plastic horse collection, including the
treasured Appaloosa foal that had fallen under the bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Walter hadn’t changed.
People didn’t, he always said that. It was true. He had remained that valiant
little boy, right up the moment of his death.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">And he had been left,
anonymous and abandoned, piled on the floor to be hauled away like trash.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Dietz handed him back the
letter. “What a guy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yeah.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">They sat in silence for a
few seconds, then Dietz said, “What’s a white crow? I didn’t get that part.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Wait was obsessed with
the concept of the Black Swan -- ”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“The ballet movie with
Natalie Portman?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“No, the book by Nassim
Taleb.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You lost me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Taleb defines a Black
Swan as --<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>it’s<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>an unpredictable event, something huge and
bad that comes out of nowhere and fucks everything up – an earthquake, Pearl
Harbor,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>9/11. We can’t cope so we try to
come up with reasons and explanations –like those conspiracy theories about
9/11. Or blaming yourself for the blow out that caused the car crash.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I should have checked
those tires.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“The tires were fine. The
truck was overloaded and the night was hot. Then you hit a pot hole that hadn’t
been there two days ago. It was nothing but bad luck, Darren.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Okay so what does that
have to do with Walter’s crows?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Three<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Walter always believed in
the opposite of the Black Swan – the good thing that comes out of nowhere and
makes things better. Unexpected blessings. Like all the stuff scientists
discovered totally by accident – penicillin and corn flakes, insulin and
super-glue. Or something like Dunkirk. Hitler could have wiped out the entire
British Expeditionary Force in two days, and for some crazy reason he didn’t.
Or winning the lottery. Or check this out --Vicki Fleishman’s grandfather
almost ran over a Colonel when he was delivering mail at Fort Lejeune. This was
late September, 1950.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was
court-marshalled and sent to the brig. He was sitting there when his company
was sent to Korea. Two weeks after they arrived, the Chinese crossed the Yalu
River and re-took Seoul.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a huge
offensive – thousands of casualties. Every single member of Gus Fleishman’s
unit died at Chosin Reservoir. But not Gus. He was stuck in a North Carolina
stockade. Gus got his discharge, and married his high school sweetheart, and
had five kids, and one of them had Vicki. I would call that a White Crow for
me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“And Longbow disappearing,
along with all the evidence of our existence … that’s a White Crow for us.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yeah.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">They sat still in the dry
cool air-conditioned apartment for a minute or two, contemplating the bizarre,
inexplicable vagaries of hazard and luck. Walter was dead, Longbow was
finished.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">And they were free.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Finally, Dietz said, “So
what do we do now?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“What do you want to do?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Dietz took a long pull
from his beer, pondering the question. “Well … I have a quarter of a million
dollars,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a small arsenal, a case of Gran
Patro Burdeos tequila, two passports, and three girls named Melina … all waiting
for me in Athens.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Three girls named
Melina?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Always pick girls with
the same name, brother. No mistakes, no confusion, no hurt feelings.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You’re a prince, Darren.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Anyway, I guess I’ll hole
up in Athens for a while. See what happens. How about you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch didn’t need to think
about it. He’d known his answer before he finished Walt’s letter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Me?” he said. “I’m going
home.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri light" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Four<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Berat Yavuz, bulky in a
rumpled white suit, with a gritty stubble on his face, and a gold tooth in the
middle of his predatory grin, smacked the rickety table between them, like a
judge with a gavel, and said, “This will cost you a great deal of money my
friend. A very great deal of money.” He looked like the classic corrupt
official of the Levant, an Orientalist cliche at least a generation out of
date. Mitch couldn’t resist the obvious response. “Baksheesh.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“No! This is no
disreputable underhand bribery trick. This is the true cost of doing business.
Let me tell you a story. When I was a boy growing up in Aksaray we had a
wonderful butcher and he was in love with my mother and I would go in and he
would give me the night’s dinner – rare cuts of beef, the shoulder tender and
the sirloin flap, wrapped in brown paper -- and I never had to pay a thing! Of
course I didn’t. My mother had an account there and paid monthly. Who knows if
she ever paid at all, the little man was so smitten! The result my friend, was
I grew up completely innocent of the cost of beef! Please – I knew it wasn’t
free! Of course I did. But it was not until I moved back into the neighborhood,
and took up my mother’s apartment after she died, that I truly understood. The
first meat bill demolished me! So much money for so little. And that is your
situation now, Mr. Osman Baykara, which is of course not your real name. Mother
is dead and now you must pay for your own beef.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch sat back, listening,
taking in the plain white-washed cinderblock walls and the narrow window that
showed a line of trucks waiting to enter Bulgaria at the </span><span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Hamzabeyli/Lesovo border checkpoint</span><span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">, their engines idling in
the brooding late afternoon heat. Beyond them, chain link and razor wire, and
scorched fields rolling out like a dirty carpet to the foot of the distant
hills. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Inside the hut, a ceiling
fan stirred the toxic air. Yavuz lit another cigarette, a<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sobranie<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>– obviously a cherished personal luxury, along with the American cologne
and the well-worn Italian shoes. His cheap nokia phone pinged with a text. He
pulled it out of his pocket, unfolded it for a moment, and then stood.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I have a small problem
with some uninvited guests. I will return shortly. I leave you with this
thought – something slightly in excess of 58,000 Lira. Ten thousand dollars, if
you like. In cash.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri light" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Five<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch shrugged as the door
closed behind the bulky official. The mingled smells of sweat, Brut aftershave
and tobacco lingered in the unventilated little room. Ten thousand was
manageable. He had thirty in the trunk of his car from the stash at the Ankara
safehouse, and he had actually expected to pay more. In fact he hadn’t known
what to expect. An arrest at the border, or simple and unceremonious bullet in
the back of the head, were not out of the question. If his cover was blown, if
Yavuz’s cover was blown, if Walter had over-looked some piece of incriminating
documentation, left some crucial computer file undeleted, if someone in the
safehouse, Carmody or that kid Blake, had talked before the CAD killed them …
but speculation was pointless and this checkpoint was his best bet to
exfiltrate himself from Turkey. It was all a coin toss, and it looked this one
this one had come up heads. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">In fact, up to now the
trip had been relatively easy. First, there was getting Walter’s Opel Manta
from the underground parking in the City hotel – a squat, ugly cube of brown
cement, dominating a square block of the Yildizevler neighborhood, just a short
walk from the safe house. Walter was paid up to the end of the year and the man
in the booth was lost in his iPhone and scarcely looked up as Mitch drove past,
flashing his ticket. The car was Walter’s secret, and he had always been sure
the the CAD and the NSA knew nothing about it. His tradecraft was good, but
Mitch wasn’t sure that anyone’s tradecraft was good enough to evade the massed
computer power of America’s secret agencies. Mitch knew he would have to get
rid of the Opel at some point. But first things first – the Manta would serve
to get him out of Turkey. That was enough for now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Driving west from Ankara
on the D 200, the city had unraveled gently into<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>broad swaths of ploughed farmland – miles and
miles of flat green fertile earth running all the way to the low mountains on
the horizon. He seemed to be going back in time as well as distance, passing
small villages of white washed buildings and road side stands selling plums and
apricots from the straggling orchards. He passed man-made hills covering
ancient Roman burial sites, lonely road signs that seemed to point nowhere, but
few signs of life -- the occasional figure far away in a field, dressed all in
black despite the baking heat, lifting an arm in acknowledgement, a stray dog,
a shepherd with a scrawny herd of goats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Only the big eighteen wheel trucks roaring by or passing him in a
battering gust of wind, located him in the twenty-first century.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The wide empty landscapes
and the hot dry rush of air through his window scoured his mind clear and he
was happy to occupy himself with nothing but the steering wheel under his
hands, the pedals at his feet and the road ahead of him. He had a lot to think
about, but thinking could wait.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri light" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Six<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Driving down off the
Anatolian plain into the hive of Istanbul and the cool air from the Sea of
Marmara, Mitch’s escape started to feel bizarrely like a holiday. The high rise
apartment in the Atakoy section of Bakirkoy, near the giant glass and steel American
hotels, with its fractured view of the water, made him feel more like a business
man stealing a free weekend, than a spy on the run. He checked the building out
carefully, parked ten blocks away, and completed several SDRs from different
directions before he ventured inside. But the Surveillance Detection Routes had
satisfied him that the place was clean, and the giant bath tub and the king
sized bed were exactly what he needed after the long dusty drive.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He slept for twelve hours,
took his breakfast at Lades, where the menemen, scrambled eggs with tomatoes
and red peppers, served with hot crusty bread and a dose of granular Turkish
coffee, remained as delicious as he remembered. He watched the tankers and
cruise ships, the barges and caiques on the Bosphorous, gulped the cool briny
air, and as always when he found himself in this strange, half modern half
Byzantine city, toyed with the idea of staying. But he knew too many people
here, and too many others might recognize him. The sad fact was, much as he
loved Europe, no city on the continent was safe for him anymore.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">And so, the drive to the
border crossing at Hamazbeyli. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The hot dry barren route
north west out of Istanbul, the modern road somehow elevating and separating
him from the scorched land around him, like a causeway over a dry lake bed,
quietly buoyed his decision and his mood. He needed to see the ocean again, his
ocean – the harsh cold steel Atlantic. And after hours of circular arguments
about refugees and gas prices on Acik Radyo and abrasive Turkish pop on Kral
FM, he needed to hear English spoken again, even if it was only the nagging
voice of NPR droning on about politics, death and money, which had been the
primary public radio topics when he left the country seventeen years ago.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">So he was ready when Berat
Yavuz slumped back into the interrogation room, wiping his forehead with a
dirty handkerchief. “Sorry for the interruption. A truck supposedly carrying
construction materials was in fact packed tightly Syrian women and children.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“What did you do?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The unshaven face split
into an irresistible impish smile. “My friend, I sent them on their way, with
twenty gallons of water and several baskets of somewhat wilted stone fruits.
Not much, but the best I could manage at short notice.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch stared at him. “You
could go to jail for that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I will be sure to add it
to the list of my offences! But I suspect any God who has earned the right to
be the object of our prayers would approve. We have both served the Devil long
enough. And both of us will be gone soon, retired from the life, yes? I have
only lingered here this long because I suspected there might be some of our
mutual friend’s strays,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>fleeing the
country. I owed him this small service. But I suspect you are the only one.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I don’t know. I hope
not.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I will not have the
opportunity to find out. This window is closing. I will take your good American
cash money and be long gone by this evening.” He sighed. “The end of an era.
History will tell us if it was a heroic or a tragic one. Or just a muddle.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch smiled. “Maybe<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>-- all of the above?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“A heroic tragic muddle!
You have just defined humanity in three words, my friend. So let us leave it at
that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri light" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Seven<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Driving south through
Macedonia and Albania, heading for Durres and the sixteen hour ferry crossing
to Ancona in central Italy on the reliably shabby and overcrowded Adria ferry,
Mitch found himself speeding on the long stretches of wide empty road between
the small towns, and taking the hairpin turns in the high Dinaric and Rhodope ranges
as if someone was chasing him. But no one was chasing him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He had no mission, no
time-table, no deadline. There was no one to check in with, no reports to send
– just the rough beautiful mountain landscapes and the cool alpine air. This
was what Walter had been talking about. It was unnerving. The ground where
orders and duty, obedience and obligation, had connected him to the earth fell
away -- and in his mind he stumbled backward, fleeing the sinkhole. Looking
over the edge into the endless possibilities of an untethered life gave him
nothing but vertigo.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">But the driving felt good.
The long run down to the Adriatic coast through the towns of cluttered white
houses with terracotta roof tiles set into the green rocky hills set his mind
at ease. The narrow roads and the responsive V6 engine under the hood of the
Manta returned a sense of control and power. He accelerated on the long
straight runs in the valleys, loving the surge of speed that slammed him back
against the seat. But there was no rush. He slowed down, pulled over beside a
waterfall to stretch his legs. There was nothing waiting for him at Durres but
the seedy, derelict Adria ferry to Ancona, with its torn seats and tepid
coffee. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The next afternoon,
standing at the rail, eight hours into a sixteen hour trip, after a night at
the pink sugar candy Kristal hotel, he had finally relaxed. They were out of
sight of land and Mitch thought of all those ferry trips to Hyannis on the
Nantucket and before that the cramped tin-can Uncateena, ridiculed by his
father as “the greyhound of the sound” – and he was talking the grimy bus, not
the graceful racing dog. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch had treasured those few minutes in
the middle of the crossing, when there was only water on the horizon. The view
set his mind free. He could have been anywhere in the world – heading for
Portugal mid-Atlantic, steaming toward Samoa, or even crossing the Adriatic to
Italy, as he was now. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Mitch
had Walter Fleming’s exfiltration route memorized – north through Italy, west
to France, skirting the Mediterranean coast into Spain, a stop at the Barcelona
safe house for fresh papers and cash, then the flight from El Prat airport,
where Longbow subcontractors would expedite the customs and ticketing, nonstop
to Vancouver.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet the next morning,
after a cramped night’s sleep on a hard bench under a salt-caked window – Mitch
could sleep anywhere – he had driven off the boat and turned south, toward
Rome.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">It had occurred to him,
walking the deck in the fresh humid breeze, sipping a tepid bitter espresso
from a Styrofoam cup, that he had spent years crisscrossing Europe without ever
pausing to see the sights. He had always been working, with no time for a walk
around of the Coliseum or the Louvre, and frankly no real interest, with his
mission-ready blinders on. The last time had had been in Paris Notre Dame was
on fire and all it meant to him was a possibly lethal traffic jam, snarling his
escape route. Well, he was done with all that. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It
was time to be a tourist.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
Eight<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch did tourism right,
strolling the Piazza Navonna, wandering the Coliseum, gaping up at the Sistine
Chapel ceiling, eating a couple of excellent meals, staying one night at a
small pensione where he paid cash for a cramped attic room with a spectacular
view of the Tiber, and then driving on to Florence and Milan, and even farther
out of his way, north through France, to Paris.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It
was in the Louvre, keeping a respectful distance from the curiously
unimpressive Mona Lisa (her little smirk annoyed him) when he saw the woman
with the Lightship basket. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The coincidence amused
him, though he had heard stories throughout his childhood of Nantucketers
meeting up in strange, far flung places -- <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Petra, the Galapagos islands, a volcano in
Hawaii. The Louvre seemed mundane by comparison, though it was a natural
temptation for someone whose local museums didn’t feature much beyond harpoons
and the very type of basket the woman was holding in the crook of her arm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, Nantucket actually had a basket museum …
just the sort of self-fetishizing yet oddly endearing absurdity that had driven
Mitch away from the island in the first place; and somehow managed to lure him
back. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He took the woman’s
presence as an omen and a beacon. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He was thinking about
approaching her when he saw the thief. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The bald little man was
wearing black Adidas and a blue nylon windbreaker over a UCLA t-shirt, and he
moved like and dancer. He slipped open the scrimshaw lid of the woman’s little
purse, and removed her passport in less than three seconds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was good. Mitch thought of his boyhood
friend Mike Henderson, whose father – a grizzled, old-school painting
contractor – ever doled out only one compliment: “Looks like you’ve done this
before.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>This
pick-pocket had obviously done it before. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
woman never felt a thing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">She was engrossed by the
tour guide speaking through her ear buds. Her husband was equally oblivious,
dozing on his feet, scrolling aimlessly through his iPhone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a second the guy would be gone. He was
already angling for the opening in to the next gallery and the stairs beyond
that led down to the galleries on the first floor. Mitch took off, ang;ling his
fade away from the CCTV camera perched high on the wall, walking just fast
enough to intercept the thief, then bounding the last few feet, grabbing him
and twisting his arm behind his back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The man’s outrage was
flawless. “Que faites vous? </span><span lang="FR" style="color: #222222; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Enlève-moi</span><span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">les mains!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch spoke softly.
“Donnez moi le passport, et je vous lesserait partir. Vous avez cinq seconds.”
He tightened the arm lock, and started counting down. At three, the guy reached
into his jacket pocket and handed over the precious document. What was such an
item worth on the black market these days? Ten thousand dollars? Twenty?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Easy come, easy go.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">So the pick-pocket went,
sprinting into the crowd, dodging between the tourists and disappearing down
the stairs. It didn’t matter -- he must know he’d gotten off easy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">And the day was young.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nine<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch walked back to the
woman, paging through her passport. Olivia Cummings, of 167 East 78<sup>th</sup>
Street, New York, NY. Visas for Germany, Spain, Italy and Monaco, as well as
France. The full European tour. They’d been traveling for more than six weeks.
He tapped her shoulder and she flinched. He held up the passport, and she
pulled her ear buds out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mitch took a calming step backward. “Someone
just took this out of your lightship basket.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“What? Who did – what are
you talking about?” She snatched the passport out of his hand opened it to
verify that it was hers, and glared at him. “How did you get this?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch offered a friendly
smile. “I took it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From the man who
stole it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The husband looked up from
his phone. “Does this guy look like he needs to steal your passport, Livvy?” He
turned to Mitch. “Thanks, buddy. Quick thinking on your part. Looks like I was
kind of asleep at the switch there. Checking the email. They never let you
alone.” He extended his hand and Mitch shook it. “Bruce Cummings, good to meet
you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The woman looked at him
and seemed to see him for the first time. “I’m sorry I got upset. You took me
by surprise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But thank you. Thank you so
much. That was an extraordinary thing to do.” Her, face pinched with thought
for a second, pushing her cheeks up, not quite closing her eyes. “You said
Lightship basket. You must be from Nantucket!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch nodded. “Born and
bred.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“That’s incredible.
Halfway around the world!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Bruce pulled out a
business card and handed it over. “We just bought a house on Cliff Road. Come
and see us. Any time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I owe you a
drink.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Thanks. I might just take
you up on that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Olivia beamed at him,
still over-compensating. “Do! Please do.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch slipped away before
they could invite him to lunch, and an hour later he was driving south out of
Paris toward the Spanish border, thinking about Bruce and Olivia Cummings.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The whole incident had
been disturbing and bizarre, totally at odds with the rules that had governed
his life for decades. The first rule was stay invisible. Walter had always said
Mitch had the perfect set of features for foiling facial recognition surveillance
– ordinary and unremarkable. “He looked like, you know, a guy, a regular guy,”
someone had said during the eye-witness interviews after a particularly messy
rendition op in London. The best CCTV coverage in the world had picked up no
trace of Mitch that day, and the other first-hand reports had all sounded the
same: “Seemed like a nice-looking bloke. Don’t exactly recall.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“It’s your mutant power,
kid,” Walter liked to say. “You’re the invisible man! Just don’t fuck it up by
making yourself memorable.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri light" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Ten<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch had always kept his
head down and his face averted, walking past the odd hold-up or traffic
accident, when he knew he could have stopped a crime with one blow or kept a
stranger’s heart beating with CPR. He had watched a Russian pop star choke to
death in a St. Petersburg Israeli restaurant called Bekitzur when a simple
Heimlich maneuver could have saved her. But there were paparazzi loitering
outside and the last thing he wanted was his picture in the newspaper.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">None of that had struck
him as wrong. He had a job and his job had its priorities. Should a first
responder rushing to a hostage situation pause to stop a mugging? Anonymity was
one of his weapons, and no soldier willingly gives up such a crucial part of
his arsenal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">That was how it seemed.
That was what he told himself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">And he hadn’t changed his
mind, exactly, or experienced some moral epiphany. But he had chased down the
pickpocket and given back Olivia Cummings’ passport, and he had done it by
reflex, as Mike Henderson’s father had leapt in to help a rival crew when a
full gallon of exterior oil tipped off a ladder. Mitch had helped that day,
too, along with Mike and the other guys, pitching in without being asked
because they had all been there themselves and they knew they would be again.
Later, Mr. Henderson said, “You know it’s funny. That guy underbid me, hired
untrained guys with no insurance. I should have done nothing. It would have
been poetic justice. Well, justice anyway.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“So why did you help?”
Mike asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">His dad shrugged. “It was
a paint spill, kid. You gotta clean up a paint spill.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Mitch had
lost that instinct, or it had been trained out of him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">But now, as he ditched
Walter’s Opel near the Gare Du Nord where it was sure to be stolen, and
purchased a bike for cash, hanging out on the Voie verte along the Canal
l’Ourcq in the Parc de la Villette where he knew he could find dedicated
cyclists, going through the motions of his own habitual tradecraft (A bike sold
for cash would be impossible to trace),he wondered who he had become, or if
some older version of himself had surfaced, one that saw people and places, not
targets and traps.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He had plenty of time to
think about it, riding the basic red Pinarello ten-speed south by the D roads
along the Loire, stopping at leisure in the old towns along the way, Nevers,
Dardilly, LePins to St Gilles, tacking toward the coast at St. Cyprien-Plage,
then up into the mountains, over roads with no cameras, disappearing into the
Pyrnees and finally, more than two weeks later, into the busy crowded streets
of Barcelona.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He spent the night at the attic apartment safe
house above Sortidor Square in the Poble Sec neighborhood, ate his Tapas and
drank the house special vermouth at the little café on the street level. The
next morning, he collected his papers and money, packed his few clothes, spray
painted the Pinarello black and left it at a public bike rack, and rode a taxi
to the airport, no uber, no cyber trail. And all the while, the thought
continued to nag at him: what the hell was going on?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Had he turned into some kind of touchy-feely
do-gooder? He certainly hoped not. Because the sad fact was, that helping hand
Samaritan nice guy was a liability. Every generous impulse was a distraction
and a danger. Mitch might have quit the business, but the business hadn’t quit
him – and in that business, taking your guard down when you thought you were
safe was a classic and time-honored way to get yourself killed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The Barcelona Airport was
a perfect example.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri light" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Eleven<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Some loud-mouthed American
tourist was yelling at his wife and slapping his son. A few seconds of behavior
modification, which would have probably just made things worse in the long run
anyway, would have distracted Mitch at a crucial moment and he might have
missed the fact that Walter’s people at the airport had all gone missing.
Oscar, in security; fat, bearded Marcel who had always whisked him through
customs; Jorge, the operations manager – all of them had been replaced by stiff
sharp military personnel who had been trained to look for people like Mitch,
and indeed, given the purge of Longbow undercover assets, very specifically for
Mitch himself. Fortunately, if Walter was right, none of them knew what he
actually looked like. If his papers were solid he could pass for one more ordinary
American trying to get through the line and grab a stiff drink on the other
side. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">It would be a good test,
though. Escaping the airport if Longbow security protocols failed would be
close to impossible. There was an escape route through the luggage handling
area, but it might be blown if Walter’s whole network had been swept up. People
talked, people gave up their friends and allies, especially if they believed
their friends and allies were dead. They talked for money, to look important or
to get immunity, and they talked to stop the pain. There were dozens of ways to
cause unendurable agony. The human body was nothing but a mass of vulnerable
nerve endings. The idea that torture never really worked was mostly promulgated
by people who had never felt hot metal pressed against a fresh burn.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">So Mitch shuffled along
the security line, keeping his face carefully tilted away from the CCTV cameras
as always, and flicking the tip of his thumb with his pinky as he plotted his
mostly futile escape plans. The crowds would be helpful. Hostages might get him
outside, and stealing a car as it idled at the loading zone curb would be
simple. It all depended on how sharp the security people were, and to Mitch
they looked sleepy and bored. Once out of the airport he would have to dump the
vehicle quickly, and make his way back to the safe house. Then what? Lay low
for a few days and try again, driving to Lisbon perhaps, or Madrid, with fresh
papers. A couple of SDRs around the square first, of course, but if the
apartment had been found. tlhey would have –<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Anything to declare,
sir?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He looked up, shook his
head tiredly. “Nothing.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Enjoy your trip.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Thank you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">And it was done. Mr.
Everyman had passed through the gaps in airport security once again, like a
draft of cold air through a crooked window. He was safe. The flight to
Vancouver was long but routine, the Canadian border casual and porous.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He was almost home
already.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He would buy a cheap used
car for cash, pick up some weapons at a gun show, and complete the easy drive
to Massachusetts in less than a week. No more diversions or detours, easy as
pie. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Or, as it turned out,
“Easy as pie crust”. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">That was what his mother
always said when he underestimated a problem. “And anyone who’s ever tried to
make a nice flaky pie crust knows exactly what I’m talking about.” As usual, his
mom’s warning was right on the money.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The old touchy-feely Mitch
Stone was back, and there was no getting rid of him now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri light" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Twelve<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
first incident began with a girl selling her father’s rifle at the Coeur
D’Alene gun show. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch had driven down from
the border in the old Jeep Cherokee he’d bought in Vancouver, heading south
east through Winthrop, Grand Coullee and Wilbur, beside deep lakes in the
shadow of high snow-capped mountains, the window open to catch the flood of icy
early autumn air, staying the night in Spokane and crossing into the narrow
northern tab of Idaho that separated Washington from Montana early the next
morning. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">With all his guns stowed
in the safe at the Barcelona safe house, Mitch needed weapons. A quick online
search led him to the outdoor quarterly market at the Kootenai fairgrounds,
just over the border. He parked in the dirt lot and wandered the big tables set
out below the steep pine woods that marked the edge of the National forest.
There was a chill in the air and he could see his breath as the morning fog
burned off. He heard the standard griping – the admission fee was too high, the
vendors were scarce, some of the ammo was defective. But it was better than
nothing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch bought a pair of
comfortingly familiar Medford USMC Raider fixed-blade combat knives from a
grizzled vet who grunted “Semper Fi,” and took four hundred for both of them.
He waved the handful of hundreds back at Mitch and said “Cash, brother. It’s
the only way to stay free.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mitch nodded
and moved along, hefting and sighting various firearms, finally settling on a
Chiappa triple threat 12 gauge shot gun and ten boxes of ammunition,
factory-sealed. The seller, a massive bearded guy in a MAGA hat, thanked him
for his service (people always seemed to know). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The last item on Mitch’s
shopping list was a beautifully reconditioned Sig Sauer P226, along with a
couple of magazines and a good supply of 9x 19 parabellums, which he bought
from a white-haired grandmother baby-sitting two little boys. “Lovely gun,” she
told him. “The Navy SEALs swear by it.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He grinned. “Marines, too.
But we know how to shoot it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">She shook her head, amused
by the inevitable inter-service rivalry. Her family had probably been Navy for
three generations, and she had no desire to exchange more of the old banter.
She just wanted to sell her stock and get home before lunch. Walking away,
Mitch added up his brief shopping spree. It had cost him less than four
thousand dollars, ammo included. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He was thinking about a
late breakfast, heading back to the Cherokee, when he noticed the girl. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">She was small and wiry,
moon-faced with a stubby nose and a spray of freckles framed by a mass of curly
red hair. She was dressed in a pea-coat over jeans and a checked shirt, with
work boots that looked like they had seen had seen a lot of work. She was
pulling a Marlin 1893 Winchester special carbine out of the backseat of her
car, a green Subaru Forrester that he recognized from the parking lot of his
motel. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The Marlin was a fine
rifle, with a fold down ladder sight. No doubt it had “Special smokeless steel”
etched into the barrel. Mitch’s shooting mentor, home-town gun nut Jake
Gritzky, had owned one of them for many years. Mitch guessed the girl could get
close to a thousand dollars for it out here this morning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He paused to watch her
progress and instantly picked up the first two hunters. They must have
recognized her Marlin also, and done the same math. Two big long-haired
bruisers, they looked like brothers, one wearing a ski hat and a heavy wool
turtleneck sweater under a light weight down jacket with <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Cottonwood Butte STAFF</b> on the back, the other sporting a Seahawks
ballcap and a barn coat. Both of them had plenty of room for concealed carry.
Ballcap twitched his head slightly to the side, and two guys at the next line
of tables caught the gesture. The thin one with the pot belly sticking out from
his down jacket tapped the fireplug with the shaved head and goatee beard, then
all four were in motion,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>sauntering
along, maybe fifty feet behind the girl, angling toward her from two sides,
hunting in a pack, like grey wolves. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch knew exactly what
they were thinking. This girl was about to render herself disarmed and
cash-heavy. She was out-numbered four to one, out-weighed by a total of least
seven hundred pounds. The Washington State plates on her Subaru broadcast she
wasn’t a local, and she’d obviously driven to the gun show alone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">In other words, the
perfect prey.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri light" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Thirteen<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The girl found a buyer, a
tall wide-faced Shoshone indian wearing a thick grey hoodie with the Duck
Valley Reservation logo on the chest. Mitch watched as he tried to work a
trade, offering a Mauser sporter 7x57. The girl shook her head – she wanted to
sell. Finally he opened his metal cashbox and pulled out eight hundred-dollar
bills. The girl hesitated, then took the money. Mitch backed away as she headed
toward him. He studied a display of antique flintlock and percussion pistols as
she moved past him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">They would take her at her
car.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He walked quickly and
matched her stride as she cleared the tables and started across the parking
lot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Excuse me,” he said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">She turned and scowled up
at him. “What?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Those four guys back
there are getting ready to rob you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">She pulled up the edge of
her pea coat, revealing a police .38 special. So, not quite disarmed. “I can
handle myself.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I believe that. But it’s
four to one. Let me walk you to your car. They’ll back off. These guys don’t
want trouble. They’re looking for an easy smash and grab.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">She blew out a breath.
“Fine.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">They walked to her car.
She climbed in, keyed the engine and rolled down her window. “Thanks, Mister.
Sorry if I was rude back there. I guess I’m a little tense lately. What you did
wasn’t necessary, but it was neighborly, and I appreciate that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">She drove off and he saw
the four men pile into a dusty extended cab Ford F350. These guys weren’t
quitting and there was no way girl could outrace their truck. Maybe they were
interested in more than the rifle. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch eased over to his
Jeep and waited while they pulled out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Everyone in the convoy
kept their distance and they had traveled about ten miles east on route 90 when
a cop rolled off the shoulder and started following the girl. The line of cars
was following her at exactly 75 miles an hour – against a posted 65 mph speed
limit. Maybe she had seen the guys in her rearview; maybe she wanted to get
pulled over. Fifteen miles later the cop finally hit the flashers. The truck
had no choice but to keep moving and Mitch did the same.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He drove on to his motel
parked out of sight and loaded his new Sig Sauer. He had developed another
theory about her speeding in front of the cop car, and if he was right, the
girl was more oblivious than he’d thought. While he waited for her to arrive he
checked his phone for other motels. He only found two, and this one was the
most convenient to the Kootenai fairgrounds. It wouldn’t take the boys in the
F350 long to track her down. They were locals. They knew the area, they
probably knew the people who ran the motels. On the bright side, maybe the girl
had already checked out and was on her way home. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He climbed out of the car,
jamming the gun behind his back under his coat, and walked to the side of the
main set of rooms, where he had a good view of the parking lot. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">It cost him nothing to
wait.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri light" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Fourteen<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The girl pulled into the
motel parking lot five minutes later, and Mitch caught up with her at the door
to her room. “Did you get new tires recently?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">She was back in defensive
mode. “What are you doing here? Did you follow me?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I got here first. I’m in
room 218, upstairs.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Oh.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“So, anyway – did you get
new tires recently?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">She gave him a baffled
squint. “Yes I did, as a matter of fact. But how could you possibly --”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“That’s why the cop
stopped you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Because it’s illegal to
have new tires?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Because yours are the
wrong size. You got them cheap from some discount garage, am I right?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Well, it didn’t seem that
bad. And they were like half price.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yeah well. They’re giving
a false read to your speedometer. You thought you were going 65, didn’t you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">She nodded. “I wasn’t,
though.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“No big deal. Just drive
ten miles an hour slower than the speedometer until you get home and buy some
new tires.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“That cop must have
thought I was crazy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“He’s one ticket closer to
his monthly quota. That’s all he was thinking about. But you weren’t speeding
intentionally to draw his attention, so you probably didn’t notice the big blue
Ford truck behind you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Should I have?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“It’s the boys from the
gun show.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yeah but – I mean … they
must have driven on.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“They’ll find you. And
this is the most obvious place to look”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Now you’re scaring me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Good.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">She glanced around the
parking lot. “So what should I do?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“What you were going to do
anyway -- pack up, check out and go home. I’ll keep an eye on you. Go – now.
You might actually beat them if you move fast enough.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The girl, her name was
Melody Biggers, went inside to throw her clothes into a canvas bag and collect
her toothbrush. She had already paid for the night before, so she left her key
on the dresser with a ten dollar tip for the house-keeper. She had done a lot
of that work herself in the last few years, mostly at the Hyatt in Spokane, and
she had always been baffled by the people who stiffed the maids. Did they think
the cleaning people were over-paid? Was there a problem with the hospital
corners? Would they like to check out an actual hospital for comparison? She
laughed at that, touching the gun at her waist, then stepped out of her room
into the late morning chill.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The four men were waiting
for her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">For a second she thought
of dodging back into the room and calling 911, but you needed to dial zero to
get an outside line and by the time she did that, the men would be inside with
her. The lock was flimsy and the door was hollow-core. And the bed would give
them ideas.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Time to pay up, cutie,”
the big one in the Seahawks cap said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The one who might have
been his brother added, “We got a tariff on out of state sales.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The pot-bellied side kick
grinned at her. “Yeah. A hunnerd percent tariff. That how we’s winning the
trade war.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Goatee took a step toward
her. “And that’s just the start with a hottie like you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Melody gritted her teeth.
She should have known they wouldn’t need to see the bed to get that idea. The
horseshoe configuration tightened as the men shuffled toward her, guns out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri light" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Fifteen<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Melody pulled the police
special and assumed the Weaver stance, gun braced and feet apart, sideways to
the target. “That’s enough. Back off.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Seahawks cap took another
step. “So, you’re going to shoot a man in cold blood, in broad daylight? I
don’t think so.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The big one in the watch
cap nodded. “Plus, you pull the trigger, and one of us shoots you in the knee
cap. You’ll be too busy screaming to fight us off, and you’ll never walk right
again.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">She stared him down. “But
one of you will be dead.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Seahawks gap took another
step. “I’d call it a Mexican stand-off but I’ve never known a Mexican who could
stand his ground.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You’ve never known a
Mexican at all, you dumbass redneck piece of shit.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Hey! Watch your mouth or
I’ll --”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">But he never got to
explain what he was going to do.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He lurched forward and
pitched face first into the asphalt, his gun skittering away. He lay still as a
corpse, unconscious and concussed, bleeding into the parking lot from his
shattered nose.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch kicked him over onto
his back so he wouldn’t drown in his own blood, then stepped away to cover the
others. “Now it’s three to two. And, FYI – a Mexican taught me that move, and
he could kick all your asses one handed while he was scrolling through <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">La Cronica de Hoy</i> on his cell phone.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">There was a long moment of
baffled silence.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“This aint none of your
business,” Pot Belly said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yours either. The lady
sold a rifle. You want to make some money? Sell your own rifle. Or get a
fucking job.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Five people, five guns,
seconds away from a bloodbath. Hands shaking, fingers twitching, arms getting
tired. Cars passed on the road. Far above them Mitch could pick out the faint
distant hum of a plane heading east for Billings or Missoula. The chill
windless air smelled of pine sap and car exhaust. Mitch cut his eyes between
the three men, back and forth, waiting for a movement. Finally the tension fell
apart, toppling like a cheerleader pyramid, unable to sustain the pressure of
all those feet on all those shoulders, all those shaky knees.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Watch-cap lowered his gun
first. “This is bullshit.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch nodded. “Not worth
dying for.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Goatee was outraged. “The
fuck is going on? We’re just gonna let her go?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“She’s going,” Mitch
corrected him. “You’ve got nothing to do with it. And I’m going to let you go,
son. Because killing you would be like running down a dog on the highway.
Hitting him shows him he shouldn’t be crossing the road, but it doesn’t do him
much good, you know? Him being dead and all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Alive, you might learn something. So think about what happened today. And
scoot.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">They picked up their
friend, shambled back to their truck and drove away. Mitch watched until they
were out of sight.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Thank you,” the girl
said. “I’m Melody Biggers.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He walked over and shook
her hand. “Mitchell Stone.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Nice to meet you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">They stood quietly in the
dry cold afternoon sunlight. A panel truck rolled passed, and then a Jefferson
Lines bus.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“That was brave just now,
Melody.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">She shook her head. “I was
bluffing. That guy was right. I couldn’t shoot him. I don’t think so anyway.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Even braver then.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Easy to be brave when you
got no choice.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Not really. Most people
panic.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Is that why they’re
always being told not to?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He smiled. “Pretty much.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Do think those guys will
really learn anything from what happened?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Probably not. Except –
check your six before an ambush. They’ll be more careful next time.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Oh great.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Maybe the next girl will
pull the trigger.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Let’s hope.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">She took a step and hugged
him. He put his arms around her gently. She was trembling. That always happened
after a firefight – even when not a single shot was fired. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">She spoke into his
shoulder. “Listen would you like to maybe have lunch with me or dinner, or a
drink or something or just come to bed with me and make love for two days and
drive home and meet my parents and get married and have ten kids and die in
each other’s arms when we’re a hundred and two? Or go get some coffee? Or
something?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He kissed her forehead.
“That all sounds great. But you’re not in the right state of mind to jump into
bed with anyone right now -- much less pick out fiftieth anniversary presents.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“They’re gold. You get
gold on your fiftieth. I was thinking about some 24-karat champagne flutes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He took her hands and
stepped back so they could really see each other. “You need to be more picky,
Melody Biggers. And I’m taken.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Seventeen<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The hitch-hiker’s opening
salvo: “Thanks, buddy, you’re a life-saver a real life saver. You can’t believe
what happened to me today, it was just, it was crazy, what a fucked-up crazy
morning, Jesus.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Well, that part’s over.
Now you can set things right. Where you headed?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“North, just north for
now. Away from this fucking bullshit town.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch shrugged. “It helps
to have a destination.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Okay, Wilkes-Barre, okay?
You get on 80 to 82 north.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“That’s on my way. But you
could have just taken an uber.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yeah right. That would
work if I had a non-maxed out credit card or enough money in my bank account to
cover the trip. Then I’d really be rolling in style. Get myself a limo.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The guy subsided into a
mute, self-pitying sulk, and that was fine with Mitch. He preferred the silence
anyway. They drove along. A few minutes after they got onto interstate 80, he
saw the second hitch-hiker -- a skinny red-headed sixteen-year-old with a back
pack. The boy was wearing a grey Steelers hoodie, blue jeans and muddy hiking
boots. He looked miserable and exhausted. Mitch started to slow down.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Keep going,” the
passenger barked. “Fuck that kid. Drive on.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He was giving orders now,
suddenly in charge. Mitch didn’t have to look to know he had the gun in his
hand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“What’s going on, buddy?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“What’s going on? I’m
stealing this car and leaving you by the side of the road and taking it to a
chop shop and getting some money. That’s what’s happening.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch nodded. “How much do
you think you’ll get for it?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Enough. Get off the
highway as soon as you can. Take the next exit.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">They passed a sign
advertising various fast food outlets off the highway. Food and lodging two
miles. “You look like you could use a meal. Sonic? Chick-fil-A? Five Guys? I’ve
been away for a while. What’s good?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Just keep driving.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Okay, okay. But let me
tell you something about guns. They distort your perceptions. You think you’re
safe, so you take stupid risks. You think you’re dangerous, so you punch above
your weight. The most likely outcome with a gun is that it gets taken away from
you. Or you shoot yourself by accident.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Or you control the
situation.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“True.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Here’s the exit, get
over.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch swerved hard into
the exit-only lane and the motion tilted the hitchhiker toward the steering
wheel. Before the guy could correct, Mitch had snapped an arm across his chest,
taken the wrist, bent it backward and yanked the gun loose. He slowed down
coming off the highway, flipped the gun into the back seat. “Sorry, but I did
warn you. Five Guys or Chick-Fil-A?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The guy seemed to assess
his chances of climbing over to retrieve his gun and slumped back, giving up.
He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his head against the car window.
“Five guys?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Sure. I like the idea of
five guys starting a restaurant and coming up with that name.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“How did you do that? Take
the gun away like that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Talent and practice.
Gotta have both.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You gonna call the cops
on me?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Nope. I’m gonna buy you
lunch.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri Light",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Eighteen<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Half an hour later,
sitting at a table in the big airy restaurant with a paper cup of wide French
fries between them, Mitch let the guy wolf down his burger and gulp down his
coke, then said, “So what’s the story?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“What do you mean?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Guy in a decent suit,
obviously hasn’t missed any meals, trying to jack cars on interstate 80.
There’s gotta be a story.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“It’s stupid.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Maybe. Maybe not.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Okay … it started with
parking tickets. That’s the stupid part.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You didn’t pay them.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I meant to pay them. I
was planning to. I just never got around to it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“How many tickets?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Ten I guess. Maybe
twelve. I had to park on the street for my job. I work at this coffee place in
Morningside, The Daily Grind. Funny, huh? Doesn’t sound very appealing.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Hey, we had a show store
in my home town called ‘The Athlete’s Foot, so.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Anyway, all they have
there is on-street parking, and you have to move the car every two hours.
Sometimes it gets busy and I can’t get out, or I just forget.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“And tickets get more
expensive when you don’t pay them.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He nodded. “When I applied
to renew my license they told me I had to pay all the tickets and penalties
first, and by that time it was up to like twelve hundred dollars. I couldn’t
pay that! So I was driving without a license, which meant I couldn’t get the
car registered and without the registration I couldn’t get it inspected.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Dominoes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yeah.” He took one of the
last French fries.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You want more?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Thanks, I’m good.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“So anyway, let me guess –
every time you got in the car you were playing highway roulette and freaking
out whenever you saw a cop.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He sighed. “I got pretty
good at evasive action. But I didn’t realize I had a broken tail-light.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“That’s the stupid part –
sorry, what’s your name?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Clayton. Clayton
Richards”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Well that was the stupid
part, Clayton. You got careless there.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yeah and I got caught.
They took me to the station in handcuffs and impounded my car. My ex-wife had
to get the fifty dollars bail from one of those pay day loan sharks. I owe them
about a grand now. There’s no end to it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“An old friend of mine
used to say you get punished for being poor in this country.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Tell me about it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Like … you need what?
Around two grand? So you steal somebody’s shitty jeep and he calls the cops and
they put out an APB and pretty soon you’ve got those flashers behind you and
you take off. Now it’s a high speed chase and maybe resisting arrest and you’re
look at five to ten at Albion.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“All because there’s no
parking at work.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch finished his iced
tea. “It’s not fair.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Clayton rested his
forehead on one palm, and jammed his eyes shut for a second as if he was
fighting a headache. “Yeah, well. What ya gonna do?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch pushed back from the
table a little. “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to give you
twenty five hundred dollars cash. And you’re going to take care of business and
get back to your life.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“What?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Pay those fines, get your
car registered. Then get it out of impound and inspected. Pay back your wife
and the loan sharks. Then you’re back at square one. Which aint great – but
it’s the only numbered square for a reason.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> “Why?
Why would you do that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> “Why
not?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I don’t get it. I mean --
who has twenty five hundred bucks in cash lying around?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch smiled. “Bad
people.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“So you’re bad?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“People can change,
Clayton. That’s the whole point. For both of us. It requires a little effort,
that’s all.” Mitch pulled out his phone and googled late parking fines in
Pittsburgh. “Looks like you have to go to the parking court. 240 Fourth avenue,
downtown Pittsburgh. Can you find that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Sure.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Then let’s go.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">When they shook hands
outside the court house, the guy unexpectedly pulled Mitch into a hug.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Thanks man. I mean it.
Thank you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch pushed him gently
out to arms’ length. “Get that money into the bank, Clayton. It’s crazy,
walking around with so much cash in your pocket.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Oh yeah? How much cash
are you driving around with?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch just smiled. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Helping Clayton turned out
to be a minor detour – he was cruising east on route 80 again by two in the
afternoon, looking forward to an uneventful run across Pennsylvania and New
York, up into Massachusetts and home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Three hours later, he met
the kid.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri Light",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Nineteen<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He had stopped for an
early dinner at a truck stop Subway, near Lake Ariel. The restaurant was
uncrowded at five o’clock – the only other patrons were two long-haul
eighteen-wheelers, a frazzled looking mother with a pair of twelve year old
boys, and the kid he had seen hitch-hiking outside Pittsburgh. The boy was
alone, nursing a glass of water and a bag of Doritos. He looked even worse than
he had that morning, the dark circles under his eyes painfully obvious under
the glare of the fast food fluorescents. He finished his little bag of chips
and then sat staring at the crumpled plastic, supporting his temple on his
fist. He closed his eyes, and then jerked his head up; he had nodded off there
for a second.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The owner came around from
behind the counter and walked over to the boy’s booth. “You okay, kid?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The boy stared at the
Formica table top. “I’m fine.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You don’t look so hot.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I told you, I’m fine.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You gonna order some
food? I mean, you can’t just sit here all night with a bag of chips.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Maybe later.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You can’t just loiter
here, son. We have vagrancy laws in Pennsylvania.”<br />
“I’m not loitering. I’m trying
to decide what to eat.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“For two hours?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The kid looked up and
offered a disarming smile. “Everything looks so good.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch sat forward. He was
starting to like this kid.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You should try the sweet
onion chicken teriyaki. That’s today’s special.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The kid shook his head.
“That sounds a little too complicated for me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Maybe I should talk to
your parents. Where’s your Mom and Dad?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Good question.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“How old are you? I’m
betting sixteen years old. That’s underage. You can’t travel alone.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I’m eighteen.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“The hell you are. You’re
a runaway. One of those teen age runaways.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Another laser smile. “I
prefer to think of myself as a hobo.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I’m calling the cops.
Your folks are probably worried sick.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Well, you got the ‘sick’
part right.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“They’ll be glad to get
you back .”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“They haven’t even noticed
I’m gone.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“We’ll see about that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He pulled out a cell
phone, poked in a number. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch was up and moving
before anyone answered the call, before he could even make sense of his own
impulse.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He stood toe to toe with
the owner. “The boy’s with me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Bullshit. What’s his
name?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Ricky,” the kid said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch nodded. “Ricky.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Ricky Muller,” the kid
added.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Ricky Muller.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He stared down at the
owner. He had about three inches on the guy. The man worked a truck stop
restaurant. He knew how to scope out a situation, and this one was tipping out
of his control. And what was wrong with that? The last thing he wanted was a
bunch of cops barging into the place, making everybody nervous. The truck stop
had a Burger King, too. And there were no cops in there. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I don’t want any
trouble,” he said, finally.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch gave him a
tight-lipped half smile. “Good. The boy will have the meatball marinara sub,
and a large coke. Sound good, Ricky?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Sure.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“And a large coffee for
me.” The owner just stared at him, “Today,” Mitch prodded gently.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yeah, okay. Coming right
up.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">They sat quietly for a
minute or two. Then Mitch said, “So what’s your plan?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I’m supposed to spill my
guts now, tell you everything?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch shrugged. “Well, not
everything.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“For the price of a
meatball sub?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Hey -- I got you a coke,
too. I may even throw in a cookie.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Ricky tilted his head
toward the counter. “You gotta pick the stuff up. They don’t bring it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Right.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch stood walked to the
register. He paid for the food and came back to the table with a tray. “So –
Boston or New York?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Ricky took a bite of the
sandwich and grimaced. “No wonder that sex freak on the commercials lost weight
here. No one can eat this shit. I mean, what is this cheese?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch sipped the weak
coffee. “My guess -- you’re heading for Boston.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri Light",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Twenty<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch studied the kid. “If
you were going to New York you’d have been hitching on route 70. That’s a
straight shot from Pittsburgh.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“My uncle Bob lives in
Medford.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“There you go – Bob’s your
uncle.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yeah – what?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“It’s an old English
expression. Around a hundred and thirty five years ago, an idiot got a big job
in Ireland because his uncle, a guy named Robert Gascoin-Cecil, happened to be
Prime Minister of England. Uncle Bob.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; tab-stops: 167.1pt; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> “So – nepotism.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Hey, it’s good to have a
hot-shot uncle.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I don’t. But he said I
could visit, so …”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Better than nothing.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yeah.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Where’s your dad, again?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I never said. But he’s in
jail.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Selling drugs?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Getting caught selling
drugs.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Right.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Three times.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Uh oh.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yeah.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">They sat quietly for a
minute. The kid finished his sub.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Does Uncle Bob know
you’ll be staying?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Ricky lifted his coke cup
and put it down again. “No.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Does he even know you’re
coming?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I thought it should be a
surprise.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch shook his head.
“This is starting to look a little sketchy, kid.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I guess. I don’t know. I
don’t know what to do.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">It looked like he was
about to cry. Mitch took a gulp of his cooling coffee. Black water. But it was
something to do. “Look here’s the problem. I let you go now, they can charge me
with contributing to the delinquency of a minor. I take you with me, it’s
kidnapping.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The kid shot him that
disarming crooked smile again. “I won’t tell.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch decided. “Here’s
what’s going to happen. I’m taking you home to your mother.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Shit.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Well, Dad is out of the
picture.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Pretty much.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“So where are we going?
Where do you live?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The kid slumped. “Locust
Grove Trailer Park. Just outside Etna, route 8, north of the city. Real beauty
spot, you’re gonna love it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch started to stand but
the boy grabbed his arm. “Wait – mister --? ” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Stone. Sorry. Mitchell
Stone.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Good to meet you. Listen,
Mr. Stone, Mitchell … You really helped me out here. You stepped in and you
didn’t have to. I appreciate that. You made a judgment call. That was cool. So
what I’m saying … if you see my mom and Carl, her boyfriend Carl, and you see
how fucked up they are, and you get it why I ran away, will you help me? I
mean, just take me to my Uncle’s place? That’s all. You said it’s on the way.
But I mean, if everything looks good to you at Locust Grove, we’re good, you’re
off the hook. It’s totally your call. That sounds fair, doesn’t it? Just see
for yourself.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch nodded. “Let’s go.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri Light",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Twenty one<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The trip back to the
trailer park required driving the length of the state. It had been a long day
for both of them, so Mitch found a motel around the halfway mark, outside of
Bellefonte, and got them a pair of rooms. He let Ricky into his first. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I’ll be right next door.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The kid looked around the
little room. “Wow, privacy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I won’t be standing
guard. You can take off if you want. I won’t chase you down.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Ricky flashed his
weaponized smile. “You need to have more faith in people.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Faith is a trap, kid. I
trust the people who earn it. Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The kid was still there at
eight in the morning, and they got back on the road by eight thirty. They
stopped for breakfast at an iHop. Ricky wolfed down two smokehouse combos and
an order of brioche French toast; Mitch ate two poached eggs on rye, looking on
with awe as the boy tore into his meal, privately dismissive of a pancake place
without maple syrup and always suspicious of restaurants that featured pictures
of the food on the menu. Fuck it. He knew he was a snob. His own breakfast was
fine --an egg was an egg. And it was good to see the boy eat. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Ricky dozed off after a few minutes on the highway. Mitch let
him sleep. By early afternoon they were cruising through Etna, and the kid was
wide awake.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Locust Grove turned out to
be all right – a self-proclaimed “mobile home park” offering water and sewer
hook-ups and trash collection service, all for around two-twenty a month. Not
exactly the high-rent district, but the place looked reasonably clean and
well-maintained, with white trailer homes dotting a big grassy field cut with
dirt driveways and set off by a ragged forest of what looked like swamp ash and
maple. Not a locust tree in sight.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> Ricky
directed Mitch to the far end of the lot, where a rusty double-wide stood among
broken lawn furniture, a battered Weber kettle grill and an old Chevy Malibu on
cinderblocks, surrounded by a scatter of parts and tools.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> “Home
sweet home,” the kid said. “Carl’s been working on that car since before he
bought it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> Mitch
laughed. “Quite a trick.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> “Come
on, let’s get this over with. Meet the family.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> Mitch
parked at the far side of the dirt clearing. “It’s like two in the afternoon.
Aren’t they working?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> “Yeah,
right.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> They
climbed out of the car into the hot, dead-still afternoon. Someone had started
a barbecue fire, and the sweet toxic smell of charcoal took Mitch back to the
lazy beach cookouts of his own childhood. They approached the trailer, walking
the packed dirt side by side, but Mitch went up the two steps first.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> The
trailer door was flimsy, and Mitch pulled it too hard. It slapped into the
chipped aluminum side of the “mobile” home – an odd term, since the giant vehicle
looked half sunk in the ground and unlikely to ever move again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> Immediately
he heard the sounds of a soap opera, a “daytime drama” as his mother had
insisted on calling them – the lulling rhythm of exposition and first names,
the odd pauses and ominous inflections. Someone’s secret twin brother was on
trial for murder, no doubt. And the lawyer was having an affair with the other
twin’s wife. Mitch had always been amazed at the number of murders they could
stuff into in one little soap opera town. The whole population must be on
continuous jury duty. Nothing had really changed since his childhood. It seemed
so quaintly antique. Somehow, in the world of streaming video and on-demand
everything, soap operas had survived. What could you say? People needed
stories.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Ricky’s mom wore a dirty
flannel robe and bunny slippers. Carl, in food-stained “Wife beater” t-shirt,
because, of course, what else?, sat at the narrow kitchen counter farther on,
with a bottle of peppermint schnapps, scrolling down the internet on his cell
phone. The place smelled of old socks, rancid bacon and cigarettes. A full
ash-tray overflowed onto the little table where Mom had set up the TV – an
absurdly perfect cliché still-life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Ricky eased around him and
inside. Carl looked up from his news feed with undisguised annoyance and
contempt. “Fuck are you doing here?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mom picked up the remote
and lowered the volume on her show. “Aren’t you supposed to be summer school?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I dropped out of summer school
and ran away from here. Aren’t you supposed to notice shit like that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Don’t talk to your mother
that way.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Right, Carl. That’s your
job.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mom seemed to wake up.
“Who’s that man?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“My new social worker.
From CPS. He’s investigating my home environment. Making sure my Mom gets
dressed before noon and my step dad doesn’t call in sick for day-drinking.” He
glanced over at Mitch with a theatrical presentation of alarm, eyes wide.
“Ooops.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Carl pushed his chair back
and stood. Mitch calculated the man’s physical threat level – six foot one, 230,
most of it fat. Probably a high school linebacker once upon a time. Soft hands,
clumsy movements, reflexes fuzzed by anger and booze. Not armed; not a problem.
Carl stumbled around the table. “I’m gonna kick your ass, you fucking punk.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“In front of the social
worker?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I’ll kick his ass too,
how about that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch said, “No.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Everything happened fast
after that.</span><span style="font-family: "Calibri Light",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri Light",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Twenty two<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Carl lunged at Ricky.
Mitch deflected the big man and sent him crashing into the wall of the trailer.
The place rocked as Mom launched herself at Mitch, screaming “Don’t you touch
him!” He caught her wrists, and Carl jumped him from behind. Ricky grabbed the
half-full bottle of schnapps off the table and clubbed Carl with it, the crack
like a homerun hit with a metal bat. Carl dropped to his knees and then to his
hands and knees. Ricky was hauling back for another blow. Mitch pushed Mom back
into her chair and took the kid’s bottle away, mid-swing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mom screamed, Carl slurred
something like “Tearing ya fucking head off piss down ya throat.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch pushed Carl flat
onto the floor with his foot and pressed a restraining palm to Ricky’s chest.
“That’s enough. No one’s killing anyone today.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The kid was in shock, near
tears. He must have felt that blow all the way to his shoulder. His mother was
crying in front of him. The soap opera droned softly in the background. The
reek of spilled Jägermeister stained the air. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The kid stared at Mitch.
“See?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yeah, kid.” He turned to
the door. “Let’s get you out of here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mom got to her feet.
“Don’t you dare take my son away from me! I’llthe cops on you!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“No you won’t.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch helped the kid down
the two stairs to the dirt, walked him back to the Jeep and helped him in to
the passenger side. He climbed in himself, keyed the ignition and drove out of
the trailer park slowly. They were half way back to route 80 before they spoke
again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Sorry,” Ricky said. “I’m
really sorry. That sucked so hard. I didn’t think – I mean, I knew what they --
but – it …”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I saw what I needed to.
Don’t worry about it, kid. I’ve seen worse.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">They were headed east on
80 when the kid said “Now what?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Now I take you to Uncle
Bob.” He rocked on the seat to pull out his cell phone, and handed it over. “No
more surprises, though. Call him first. Before your mother does.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yeah, right, sure. Okay.
Good idea. Thanks.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He held the phone for a
second, then seemed to gather his will. He touched the numbers and waited while
it rang on the other end.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Hey Bob, it’s Ricky.
Good, I’m doing good. No – it’s … that’s what I’m calling about. Well, I came
back. No, no. No. I split again. They – look, Bob, it never changes, they –
I’ve tried. And anyway, since when are you – That is such bullshit! She’s your
sister! You were the one who – okay. Right, yeah. I get that, but, how am I –
that’s the point. That’s what I’m trying to tell you! You said give it a chance
and I did. I gave it a million chances! You said I could live with you if –
what? How do you – there’s no point if I -- Mom says – I know that! That’s what
I’m trying to tell you. I’m sixteen now and I get to choose who I live with. And
I choose you. It doesn’t matter. You’re
sill family. . Wait, what? How do you mean? Hold on … I don’t – you’re like
fifty years old! How can you even – I know you are. I know that. But --- so …
what’s the NROTC? Okay … and you got your papers? When did this happen? Wow.
Jesus, Bob. I know you missed the Navy, but I mean … Well, sure, I guess. That
makes sense. I mean, if – No, that’s great. That’s really great. When do you
leave? Oh, so … yeah. Okay. Well … send me a postcard or something. Yeah … love
you too. Bye.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">They drove in silence for
a few miles.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Finally Mitch said,
“Sounds like your Uncle Bob just signed up with the Merchant Marine.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri Light",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Twenty Three<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Ricky studied the seat
between his legs. “He’s a steam engineer. He was a bilge rat and an A-ganger in
the Navy, that’s all he ever talks about. The Pacific fleet! Anyway, he was
mustered out in the big drawdowns after 9/11 and he always said he was going
into the Merchant Marine. I thought it was bullshit but I guess he really did
it. He ships out tomorrow morning.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Shitty timing.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yeah.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You won’t even get to see
him before he goes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The kid said nothing and
Mitch saw he was crying. He had his eyes jammed shut, trying not to make a
sound. The sobs came out like hiccups.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Ricky --”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I’m not going back there.
I can’t go back there. You can’t make me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I wouldn’t try.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“They’ll put me into the
system. I’ll wind up in some group home, they’re like prisons, Mitch. Or some
creepy foster family. I’ve read all about these foster families. It’s so fucked
up. Kids are just a business to them. And
that’s the good ones. Tons of them are in jail for child abuse. I’m serious.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch said nothing. He got
off the highway at Lewisburg and slowed down drove through the Amish country.
They passed old farms and old farmers with horse and buggy teams. He pulled in
at a lake just off the road and turned off the engine. The big elm trees shaded
the parking area and the masses of leaves shifted in the wind. They were just
starting to turn. Far out on the lake, a pair of motor boats skimmed the water.
It looked like they were racing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch and the boy sat
quietly in the car. They listened to the faint growl of the outboard motors, a
dog barking from somewhere behind them, raucous birds in the trees. Somewhere out of sight some kids were playing
and the high-pitched screams set Mitch’s nerves on edge. He steadied himself.
The kids were fine. They were having fun.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“What are we doing here?”
Ricky asked finally. “Why did we stop?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“We need to talk.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Oh boy. That’s never
good.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“No, no, I didn’t mean to
…Sorry. That came out wrong. I’m kind of new at this.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Talking to kids?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Among other things.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Ricky swiveled on the seat
to face him. “So what’s up?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I have proposal for you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch had made his
decision but it didn’t feel that way. It was more like something he had known
from the moment he stood up for the boy in the restaurant, or before that, when
he saw the boy hitching, or even before that, before he knew the boy existed.
It was like joining the Marines, when he wasn’t much older than Ricky was now.
He’d been a jarhead before he knew the word, a grunt in boot camp before he
ever left home, a soldier chasing a war.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“What?” Ricky said. “What
proposal?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch turned. “Stay with
me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“What?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“My sister just got
divorced, mostly because her husband didn’t want to have kids. I’m the only
family she has left. We own a big house on a little pond with plenty of room.
Come to Nantucket and stay with us.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“So you’d like … adopt
me?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Something like that.
Susie knows all the rules. She did the research when she found out she couldn’t
have kids of her own. It’s called ‘Guardianship’, which is good. I like the
sound of that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The kid smiled. “Of course
you do.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch smiled back. “You’re
getting to know me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yeah.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">They sat, watching the
boats.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Well?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Are you serious?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“As a negative biopsy
report. Which is a good thing, FYI.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">They stared at each other.
In the distance, the boats cut out their engines, settling in to drift. Even
the birds seemed to quiet down.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“What if your – what if
Susie doesn’t want me?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“She’ll want you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“What if she doesn’t like
me?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“She’ll love you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“How do you know?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Don’t take it personally,
kid. It’s just who she is. She can’t help herself. It’s her nature.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Loving random strangers?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Taking in strays. Stray
humans especially.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Well, that’s me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“So is it a deal?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The kid squinted at him.
“It’s a crazy deal. What do you get out of it?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“That’s what we’re going
to find out. You in?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The kid nodded. Mitch
stuck out his hand and the kid shook it. “I’m not calling you Dad.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“That’s a relief.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I like it when you call
me kid, though.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> “Okay, buckle up. We’re back on the road.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri Light",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Twenty Four<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">They were just south of
Scranton on route 80 when the kid said, “That stuff you did at Locust Grove –
that fighting stuff. Can you teach me that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch shifted lanes to
pass a truck. “Sure I can. You’d be a good student. No, seriously, you did okay
back there, yourself. Good reflexes, good instincts, taking advantage of the
circumstances. My old boss used to call it SOS – sense of the situation. You’ve
got that, which is lucky for you, because there’s no way to teach it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The kid grinned. “Oh. The
schnapps bottle.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“That was quick thinking.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Thanks.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“And you had zero
hesitation, that’s the main thing. That’s huge. It was like a pick six. For me,
that’s the most exciting play in football, because you can never prepare for
it. The ball just bounced off the tight end’s helmet A great player physically
re-sets in an instant, grabs it, sees an opening and breaks for the end zone.
Touchdown.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Like James Harrison in the
Superbowl.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I was thinking more of
Jamie Collins in the playoffs.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The kid snorted. “Patriots
fan.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You’re heading for
Patriots country kid. Watch out.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The cruised for a while,
comfortably back in the middle lane, then the kid said. “I took Carl down with
a bottle of Jagermeister. That’s some kind of serious Karma happening there,
Chief.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Instant karma –
drive-thru Karma.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The kid laughed. “Drive-by
Karma.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Whoa. Take it down a
notch. The worst that happens to Carl is a mild concussion, maybe some headaches.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I nailed him good,
though.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You did. He was about to
blindside me and you saved my ass. So thanks for that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Any time.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch decided he wanted to
relax and spend some money, so they stayed that night at the Blake Hotel in New
Haven, in a big airy room with two queen sized beds. It was a handsome old
building near the Yale campus and they strolled the city, enjoyed a couple of
classic cheeseburgers on toast at Louis’ Lunch, wandered around the University
eavesdropping on conversations and wound up at the Yale art gallery to check
out the Picassos, Mondrians and Rothkos. The kid had never seen any of it, and
knew nothing about twentieth century painters, or any painters. He seemed most
impressed by the fact that gallery was free, though there was a Frederick
Remington bronze that caught his eye, and he was briefly captivated by a
Winslow Homer watercolor of a deer drinking from a stream.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The kid might not know
much, but he had good taste.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">That night, after dinner
at Hamilton Park (celery root and leek soup followed by grilled trout for
Mitch, a double order of shrimp cocktail and a crab melt for the kid, finished
off with a slab of the five-layer chocolate cake with whipped cream), they went
up to their huge room, showered, watched the most recent James Bond movie on
the flat screen TV, and then crawled into the gratuitously, gloriously
comfortable beds and slept like a pair of sled dogs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Sometime before dawn,
Mitch heard Ricky get up. At first he thought the kid had to go to the
bathroom, but it soon became clear that he was on a mission. He rummaged
through Mitch’s old Marine duffel bag and backpack, removed some files and
Mitch’s pocket flashlight. When he took the luggage into the bathroom, he
brought Mitch’s wallet also.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> Mitch
smiled into his pillow and rolled over. Smart kid.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Century",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> Tomorrow
was going to be interesting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />Axelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09627668511171741211noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18430290.post-82815974238883244412019-05-01T05:41:00.000-07:002019-05-01T05:46:25.648-07:00Ruth Mallory's Lost Diary Entry<br />
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<span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj44O1udMK7IsAM4tabldmH7C830Rd1wXuotAZubAxRbJzr9JnHdazD1rCNLioxbQFzr3nehXWEQxXbpfVoSZbWvWMW5krPiCg2ZOxvCyXu0F61NcL5FAtUIfvIDxCjFMJVa37aPw/s1600/blue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="525" data-original-width="700" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj44O1udMK7IsAM4tabldmH7C830Rd1wXuotAZubAxRbJzr9JnHdazD1rCNLioxbQFzr3nehXWEQxXbpfVoSZbWvWMW5krPiCg2ZOxvCyXu0F61NcL5FAtUIfvIDxCjFMJVa37aPw/s320/blue.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "century" , serif;"><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><i> </i>9/</span></span></span><span style="font-family: century, serif;">23/98</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Oliver said there would be a next
time, and he was right. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">His
letter arrived on the morning of Wednesday, April 7<sup>th</sup>, 1994. Seeing
his tight, spiky handwriting was like seeing his face at the other side of a
busy restaurant. The same sequence of reactions -- delight, shock, confusion –
and the reflex to dissemble. Spies at some formal function of the ruling Junta,
presenting a neutral glance as they’re introduced. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">We
actually did run into him at dinner a few years ago. Some little downtown
restaurant, after a show. Oliver was dining alone at the next table. It turned
out he had been to the same play the night before – the Charles
Durning-Kathleen Turner revival of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cat on
a Hot Tin Roof. </i>Harlan quoted the doctor’s line about wishing he had a pill
that could make people disappear. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">Thousands
of restaurants, dozens of plays … twenty tables. And there he was, picking at a
salad without even a paperback novel or a sketchbook to hide behind. I put on
my clandestine social smile while we all exchanged small talk. I thought of my
mother, applying her make-up before going out for the evening, saying, “I have
to put my face on.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">I
remember we agreed that Durning made the perfect Big Daddy. We wound up
laughing. Oliver’s Kathleen Turner impression was spot-on. A perfect little
soap bubble moment, too fragile to touch. It made me sad. That lovely
friendship, lost forever.<span style="mso-tab-count: 5;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">I
finally opened Oliver’s letter just before lunch, long after Harlan was gone
for the day. My hand was shaking so badly I tore the elegant Crane ecru
stationery. The English stamps told me instantly that something was up. Oliver
hates England and never goes back unless he has to. “Marriages and funerals
only, my Dear” he told me once. In this case, his father’s funeral. He’s the
executor of the estate, which is quite complicated, with “numerous greedy
cousins squabbling over the remnants”. Oliver is the oldest of three children.
His sisters never left Oxfordshire. Oliver has always handled the family’s
financial affairs, co-signing loans for his sisters, securing a nursing
facility for his mother when she lapsed into late stage Alzheimer’s, and on
that trip selling off various properties and managing the disbursements. But it
was “a dreadful slog” and he couldn’t wait to get home. His sister Pauline had
found a haven with local Evangelical sect; Dorothy stuck with the bottle. He
had very little to say to either one of them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">At
the end of the letter he said, “The only real family I have left is the one I
chose.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">By
which he meant me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">He
wanted to see me when he returned to New York the next month. But it was
impossible. I remember my feeling at the time was … things die and deserve the
dignity and respect of being left alone. Digging them up is morbid and
ghoulish. I thought of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Monkey’s Paw</i>,
reading that old story to Robert when he was eight or nine years old and him
crying out “Don’t do it!” when Mr. White wishes his dead son Herbert back to
life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">From
the mouths of babes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 9;"> </span>Later<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">I
avoided him for weeks. It seems like that would be easy in a city of seven
million people spread out over more than thirteen thousand square miles, but
New York is famously a cluster of small towns, and the art world is one of the
smallest and most claustrophobic, like some little hamlet in Maine where
everyone knows you’re pregnant because you stop buying tampons at the local
drug store.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were parties I refused to attend because
I knew Oliver would be there, openings I avoided because his presence was
guaranteed. Harlan caught on quickly. “Go if you like,” he said about some
fundraiser for the Met (Oliver is on the Board), “Talk to him. Normalize
things. I’m fine with it.” But I could tell he liked it that I kept my
distance. I think he enjoyed punishing both of us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">Maggie
Barudsky knew it was true.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">She
invited me to lunch at Le Cirque. It can be a brusque and hurried experience
dining there, but Maggie was great friends with Sirio Maccioni and had
apparently helped him pick his new chef. I hadn’t eaten there since the glory
days of Daniel Boulud, but Maggie assured me that Sylvain Portay was a worthy
successor. And indeed the food was wonderful, from the truffle risotto to the
lobster with chanterelles and artichokes. Still, the food was the least
memorable aspect of the meal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">When
I arrived Sirio showed me to the table, a prime one in the center of the room,
the old room with the sepia paintings and pale wall paper and forest green
upholstered chairs. It’s all different now of course, but the restaurant had
the elegance of a private club in those days. It didn’t matter, I was given
less than thirty seconds to enjoy the atmosphere. I saw Maggie’s table before I
had taken ten steps in to the room. Seated across from her was Oliver Graeme.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">My
lungs closed, I wanted to turn and run, but the ambush was perfectly executed.
Every eye in the place was on me. Fleeing would turn a simple meal into a
scandal. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“Oliver,”
I said, sitting down. “What a pleasant surprise.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">He
took a sip from his water glass. “I should have thought more like, what an
appallingly discourteous shock. Don’t be alarmed. Your face is a perfect mask.
It’s only your eyes that give you away.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">Maggie’s
face was stern. “Harlan gets everything. You get nothing. I’m sick of it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“Maggie
-”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“I’m
sure he’s with a girl this very afternoon! That Lithuanian girl he’s been
painting. Lina. While you sit home alone and avoid your friends. This has to
stop, darling! It’s making me insane.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">I
looked from one to the other, those two calm patient loving faces. Then I gave
in. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“What’s
good here?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">We
talked about London (“Drab and provincial as ever”), our new President
(“Tiresome philanderer”) Oliver’s favorite new Asian fusion restaurant (“Vong –
who knew an Alsatian could make such sublime Thai food?”) and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Children of Men </i>(“I have a weakness
for P.D. James”). We talked about Robert and Hotchkiss and the dance I was
working on for Meredith Monk. We talked about renovations at the gallery and
the Draconian new building codes, and Maggie’s planned trip to Milan for the
Prada show.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">As
we were leaving, Oliver slipped me one of his cards with an address in Brooklyn
on the back. “I want you to meet me there, if you can arrange a convenient
time.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">There
was no point acting coy any more. I just smiled and said, “How about tomorrow?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">The
address was on Berkeley Place, in the Park Slope section of Brooklyn, just off
Eighth Avenue with a charming view of the Grand Army Plaza, whose trees were
just coming into leaf in early May. Its marvelous Soldiers and Sailors Arch
dwarfed the one in Washington Square Park I had grown up with. I had never even
seen Prospect Park before that day, which seems strange now, even to me. But I
grew up in Manhattan, and for coddled Upper East Side kids Brooklyn and the
Bronx might as well have been separate countries with their own languages and
customs. They were rough dangerous territories back in the sixties – and remain
so to some extent, even as the twentieth century fades. Among the row houses on
Oliver’s street, some looked derelict, some were in the process of renovation;
one had recently been gutted by fire. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">I
found Oliver standing on the steps of his four-story brownstone, hastily
putting out a cigarette, as if I didn’t know he smoked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">He
hugged me, we are exactly the same height, and pressed his lips to my neck. The
touch of his mouth brought me home. How can something be so exciting and exotic
and yet so consolingly familiar at the same time?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“Thank
you for coming,” he said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">He
gave me the tour – the antique paneling and the bright modern kitchen, the
newly sanded hardwood stairs and the big loft on the top floor that he used for
painting. “I bought it so we could have a place to meet,” he told me. He must
have noticed the look on my face, because he hurriedly added, “Don’t worry, my
dear. When you leave me for the last time, I’ll sell it and make an outlandish
profit. This is going to be one of the great neighborhoods of the city in a few
years.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">We
wound up in his bedroom on the third floor, and in his bed. A clandestine
adulterous assignation … and yet even lying thrashing naked under his sheets,
with his head between my thighs, it didn’t feel wrong. It was a continuation,
like taking next step in a dance, remembering the lost name in an anecdote. We
simply picked up where we had left off. He had always been a gentle,
meticulous, single-minded lover, determined to wring every last spasm of
pleasure from my body and not particularly interested in his own. That hadn’t
changed but I came to understand it during those long afternoons in Brooklyn.
In our happiest days, Harlan had craved my body. Oliver worshipped it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">Not
that my middle aged flesh deserved his adoration! Please, I know better than
that. But he would never let me deflect a compliment and the luxury of
submitting to that lovely pure unwavering reverence made me happier than I’d
been in years. How many years? Well it had been six years since our time in
California. The better part of a decade.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">Of
course it wasn’t all sex and long lunches and strolling through Prospect Park.
We fought sometimes, Oliver’s stubborn silent stoical attack so different from
Harlan’s bellow and bluster.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">The
worst one happened the day after Meredith’s company premiered my pas de deux,
“Solo”. Perhaps based on my marriage, it was an unusual dance for two in which
the performers essentially ignored each other in ever more extreme ways until
colliding near the end of the piece. I thought it was funny; so did Meredith.
But the rehearsal period had been fraught and taxing. I was physically unable
to demonstrate many of the movements I had designed, and I could tell the
dancers, particularly the man, Jerrol Jenkins, viewed me with poorly concealed
disdain. I was an interloper, a dilettante, fiddling with a form I had never
mastered. Poor Jerrol died of AIDS a year ago. He could be cruel but he was
charming and funny as well. He loved the celery stuffed with herbed cream cheese
I brought to a late rehearsal -- my mother’s recipe -- though he claimed I was
trying sabotage him with fattening foods. “Weaponized vegetables!” he said,
taking a third stalk. His only reading matter was comic books but he had a
sharp eye for the absurdities of super hero life. “Would Iron Man win an iron
man race?” I heard him ask one afternoon. “There’s a swimming section! He’d
sink like a stone and rust on the bottom.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">He
was just as withering about me and I complained to Oliver because Harlan
wouldn’t listen. Then the reviews came out and I was heartbroken. I took his
silence for solidarity until he stood during one of my arias, and walked out of
the room. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">I
followed him around the house, and finally badgered him into talking. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">He
blurted it out: “You would believe anything anyone said about you! As long as
it was sufficiently insulting and defamatory. It’s unbearable.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“They
said terrible things.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“So
what?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“They
hurt me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“Sticks
and stones.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“Words
hurt. They do.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“Because
you’re weak.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“I
-- yes, I suppose ... I don’t --”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“And
it’s more than weakness. Everyone is weak. Everyone has a breaking point. I
don’t judge you for that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">He
looked away. I could see he regretted talking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“What
then? What?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“Very
well.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I despise your utter lack
of self regard. You have no ego! You scarcely exist, you have no independent
existence! You are whatever some scribbler calls you. If that woman at the New
Yorker said you were great, you’d be strutting about like a peacock. But she
called you a fraud so you are inconsolable. Who am I talking to?” He touched my
forehead with a fingertip. “What’s inside there? Is anyone home? Or is it just
empty rooms full of newspaper clippings and soggy tissues? You should go. Tell
your troubles to your husband. It’s his job to listen.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">I
left but I never said a word to Harlan. I called Oliver several times but his
answering machine picked up. No cute outgoing remarks, just a curt “Speak.” So
I did. He never returned the calls and it was a week before I could get back to
Brooklyn. I took a cab, climbed the stairs. I had a tipsy moment of cowardice,
like a drunk who stands up too quickly. But I knocked. I heard footsteps and
tensed myself for the chilly English reception he had been bred to deliver.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">He
opened the door and took me in his arms. “I’m so sorry. Can you possibly
forgive me?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">I
spoke to his chest. “I’m here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">He
stepped back. “Please – come in. I have coffee on the stove.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">I
followed him into the kitchen. He placed the Chemex and a sterling silver
cream-and-sugar set on the table. “Two percent milk and half decaf coffee. Just
the way you like it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“You’re
right,” I said. “I shouldn’t pay attention to those people.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">He
took a sip. “I’m the same way. Perhaps that’s why I find it so disturbing.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">I
made the little laugh that comes out almost as a sigh – more of an announcement
of a perceived absurdity than a response to a joke. “You’ve never gotten a bad
review in your life.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“Only
from your husband. But they sting.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“He’s
just jealous.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“Precisely
what I always tell myself. A paltry rationale.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“Some
people don’t read reviews at all.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“That
requires a different brand of fortitude, I suspect. And a certain deficiency of
imagination. I’m sure you could invent far worse things to say about yourself
than some critic could devise.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“Probably.”
I drank some coffee. It was perfect, as always.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">He
was staring at me. “I wish sometimes you could see yourself as I see you. But
then you would be truly insufferable!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“I’d
like that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“Indeed
you would! But that will never happen, so let me offer you this small
consolation instead. You will receive dozens of bad reviews in your lifetime,
if you keep working, if your career lasts long enough. They’ll spank you for
staying the same and dismiss you for changing, praise your worst work, pan your
best, flatter and flense with equal gusto. Well, I say -- fuck them all. Pardon
my French. Or rather my 16<sup>th</sup> Century German. The two impostors.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“The
who?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“It’s
from a Kipling poem my father always quoted. I had to read it at his funeral.
He loved his Kipling. ‘White man’s burden’ and all.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“I
don’t think I know the poem”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“Then
you were never an English schoolboy! The bit in question goes like this –<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>If you can dream, and not make
dreams your master;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>If you can think, and not make
thoughts your aim;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>If you can meet with Triumph and
Disaster<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And treat those two impostors just
the same…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“Then
what? If you do all that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“Ah.
That’s the crux. Here’s the last quatrain:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>If you can fill the unforgiving
minute<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>With sixty seconds worth of distance
run<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Yours is the Earth and everything
that’s in it<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And – which is more – you’ll be a
man my son!”<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I laughed. “I bet he hammered
you over the head with that one.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“Quite
so. And I believe Kipling himself was the only artist who ever qualified for
full manhood in my father’s eyes -- with the possible exception of Paul Nash,
who had the decency to fight in the First World War.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">We
were silent for a moment, then I lifted my cup in a modest toast. “The two
impostors.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“May
we despise and ignore them forever.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">We
gulped the last of our coffee, and then he took me up to bed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 9;"> </span>9/30<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">I’ve
been thinking all morning about the Bennington Caper, as Oliver called it. Our
great secret, our final tryst. He had arranged to teach a master class during
the summer session at the college, and the school had found him a charming
little house in town. He had never visited Vermont before – no one knew him,
and he was looking forward to a six weeks of anonymity, artisanal coffee and
long walks in the leafy countryside.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">We
were having breakfast in the big sunny kitchen when Oliver suggested the idea.
It was brazen and outrageous but we had gotten bolder over time. Harlan often
stayed out all night, supposedly working at his studio and sleeping on a cot
there. I knew if I managed to get home by nine or ten in the morning, I would
be safe. Once he arrived home before me and I simply lied – I told him I’d
risen early and taken a walk. He was shockingly easy to fool. I suppose he
wanted to believe me, and I doubt he wanted to compare notes on our
extra-marital activities. But I was tired of skulking around, and these easy
spring mornings made me long for an unfettered life with Oliver. I was missing
California, and I told him so.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">He
set his coffee down. “Come with me to Vermont.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“For
the whole summer?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“It’s
Robert’s last year of camp. And Harlan will scarcely miss you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">I
shook my head, the way you do when you have water in your ears. But the idea
had gotten in there. “It’s impossible.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“Why?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“I
can’t just go. I’d need some kind of cover story.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“That’s
easy. You’ve been talking about following the various dance festivals around
the country literally for years – The American Dance Festival in Durham, the
Boise Dance Festival, Jacob’s Pillow.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“I
don’t understand.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“My
dear girl, that’s your cover story.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“No,
no, that wouldn’t work. It’s a lovely thought but …”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“You
don’t seriously think he’d check up on you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“He
wouldn’t have to. He pays all the bills and sees all the credit card receipts.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“But
you wouldn’t have any.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“Exactly.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“Ah.
I see.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">We
left it at that, but Oliver talked the problem over with his favorite
co-conspirator and early the next week Maggie Barudsky caught up to me at our
health club. She paced along beside me on the next treadmill, striding much
faster but getting no farther, one of the small satisfactions of walking in
place. In the real world she’d would have had to slow herself down,
accommodating me, or I’d come around a bend in the path and see her standing
impatiently, tapping her foot and taking her own pulse.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“I’ll
go to the festivals,” she said after a few minutes, not even out of breath. I
was panting and the lactic acid was making my bones ache.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“You’d
– what? Why?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“I
think it would be a charming way to while away the summer.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“No
you don’t! Dance bores you. I’ve seen you fidgeting. And you hate to travel.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“Well,
it’s not my ideal vacation. But I will keep an open mind.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“Besides,
how would that even -- ” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“I
would take your credit card, and spend your money and no one would be the
wiser.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“But
… it’s – you’d have to explain … I mean, where would you say you were going?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“My
mother took a fall and broke her hip. I went to Chicago for the summer to take
care of her. I’m an exceptionally dutiful daughter.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“Would
Alfred believe that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">“Probably
not. He’s seen me with my mother!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it
doesn’t matter, darling. He’s in on the scheme. He will lie like a tax lawyer
if the cause is right.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">We
got off the machines, toasted each other with the awful spinach, beets and
spirulina smoothies the club served in those days. And the pact was sealed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 8;"> </span>10/1<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">The
house was weathered barn board with a stone chimney, on Harrington Road near
the Walloomsac River. It was a drive into town and a drive to the campus.
Oliver had found a used VW bug and enjoyed cruising in it, rattling across the
covered bridges, exploring twisting empty roads that curled up into the
mountains like smoke. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">Oliver’s
schedule was light, so we had plenty of time to play house, cooking out of
Julia Child, adding a rug or a wing chair from the local antique store to the
sparse furnishings, sleeping in, taking Sunday breakfast and the Blue Benn
diner. It was terribly hot that summer and we slept naked under the old sheets
in the upstairs bedroom with the windows open and the fans pushing the humid
air at us. We had students over for impromptu dinners and dined with faculty
members from time to time, but for the most part we were on our own, and we
liked it that way. The evenings seemed eternal and the days stretched out into
weeks ahead of us, but we knew our time was short and we were loath to waste a
minute of it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">I
have to smile, writing this, thinking of some future art historian skimming
these paragraphs looking for the revelations promised by a ‘primary source’
document, waiting for me to talk about the portraits.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">Very
well, Professor! I apologize for my girlish digressions.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">It
started with sketches. He sketched me all the time -- in bed, in the bath,
cooking, walking the woods, working in the little garden at the side of the
house -- wire-bound sketchbooks he flailed and flicked with his prized Utrecht
pencils.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">I
didn’t know he was making paintings out of those studies until he took me up to
his studio on the campus early one Sunday morning. A still, stifling day, with
rain clouds building from the north -- July 21<sup>st</sup>, 1993. It would
rain all night and most of the next week. But for the moment it was just
falling barometric pressure and the tension of waiting. We were alone in the
old barn. Saturdays nights were wild and the kids slept in. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">Oliver
had stacked the paintings against the long wall. He turned them and set them
side by side for me, one after the other. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">How
can I describe the cascade of emotions? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">The
first was shock – simple horrified inexcusable Puritan mortification. I was …
well, any professor who troubles to read these pages knows that I was naked in
the most powerful of Oliver’s canvases and the raw erotic charge in what he
referred to as the “bedroom tryptic” was overpowering, terrible,
traumatizing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt betrayed, used,
invaded. I was too angry to speak and I’m so happy, looking back, that I
didn’t. Because my feelings changed as I studied the less sexually charged
pictures, the kitchen paintings, the garden paintings, as I stood with the
collection, surrounded by it, hidden as well as revealed in the deep forest,
the secret clearing, of Oliver’s masterful unblinking regard.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">Ultimately
even the nudes shifted for me. They were liberating and at the same time
humbling. He was painting me but he was painting something more, some female
archetype that I represented for him. They were me and simultaneously more and
less than my actual person. Oliver said to me once, “I despise love poems.
They’re so impersonal.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">Those
canvases were his poem to me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">And
then came the realization that I was looking at a collection of incomparable late
period masterpieces by a major Twentieth Century artist, a group of pictures
that could dramatically reconfigure his reputation. And at the same time, I
knew he was going to keep them private. No one was going to see them but me,
because if anyone ever did our underground summer of love would become public
property and small juicy scandal of it would wreck my marriage and ruin my
life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">It
seemed unfair, crazy, absurd. We fought about it. That was where our war broke
out. I told him I didn’t care. I was going to tell Harlan the truth and leave
him for good. The marriage was over anyway. If Harlan wound up humiliated, so
be it. He deserved to be the public cuckold. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">Oliver
didn’t believe a word I said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">And
at the height of the argument, with an uneaten dinner cooling on the dining
room table, we heard a rapping on the front door. It silenced us and came
again. Somehow we both knew who it was. My husband was standing on the welcome
mat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">Harlan
had found us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 7;"> </span>Later<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">Well,
that was how it seemed at the time. Perhaps it would have been better if he had
worked some miracle of forensic deduction and followed my well-camouflaged
trail to Oliver’s door. The actual story was much simpler.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">That
weekend was our scheduled visit at Camp Killooleet. With me traveling all
summer, Harlan had volunteered to go up for the day, meet the counsellors and
campers and take a box lunch to Texas Falls. Hancock was just two hours north
of Bennington and Robert, who had the return address on all the letters and
packages Oliver had sent him, had begged his father to patch things up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His plaintive, twelve-year old declaration: “I
miss Oliver.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">His
thorny, heartfelt question: “Why can’t you just be friends?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">Harlan
had no answer, at least none he could sensibly offer to a young boy. So he
agreed to the diplomatic mission and arrived in the early evening after a day
of procrastination and soul-searching.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">I
didn’t know what he was doing there, or how he’d found the place or why he’d
come. I knew one thing only: Harlan must not find me there. No drug dealer with
piles of cash and heroin on the kitchen table a table and the police shouting
“Open up!” could have reacted as calamitously as I did. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">I
grabbed Oliver, and said in an awful croaking whisper, “Don’t tell him I’m
here!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">I
fled to the basement stairs, but not before seeing the sad stoical knowing look
on his face. He had just won our argument conclusively – action mattered far
more to him than words – but he took no satisfaction from being proved right. I
know that part of him had wanted to believe me. That was impossible now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">From
behind the door, I heard Oliver offer to buy Harlan a drink in town, and a few
moments later the screen door slapped against the frame. I stood with one hand
clutching the glass knob until I heard the note of Harlan’s car engine fading
away toward River Road.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">I
was all packed when he dropped Oliver off three hours later, having refused the
obligatory invitation to stay the night. Harlan had reservations at the Four
Chimneys Inn.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">Oliver
saw me with my suitcase and sighed. “This is better,” he said. “I prefer
tragedy to farce.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">I
slept on the couch, and the next morning he put me on the Vermonter at St.
Albans for the trip back to the city. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">Everything
unfolded from that moment just as Oliver had known it would. I remained with
Harlan, the two men have made stalwart if sporadic efforts to rebuild their
friendship and have crossed paths awkwardly, touchingly, at the hospital.
Oliver makes no effort to hide his visits to me here, we are well past any
tinge of scandal now, but his Vermont paintings, like my time there that
summer, remain our secret.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">There
is one small coda to this story. After a terrible fight that fall, I
desperately needed to see Oliver again. I took subway to Brooklyn, and found my
way to Berkeley Street. But Oliver was as good as his word.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arabic Typesetting";">The
house had been sold. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />Axelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09627668511171741211noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18430290.post-3017979204495695052019-04-25T05:00:00.002-07:002019-04-25T05:02:36.044-07:00A Liberal Education: Six Months on a Trumpland Paint Crew<br />
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<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">The first second I saw Dave Smiley, slouching around the
side of his boss’ paint trailer in a suburban Connecticut driveway, smug and
slovenly, wearing a Millennial scowl of stymied entitlement, I thought: “This
kid represents everything that’s wrong with America today.”</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">And I hadn’t
even seen the TRUMP sticker on the tailgate of his truck.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Today: December sixteenth, 2017, under a stony sky
threatening snow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“We need more plastic for the living room,” he said to
the boss, a burly fireplug named Roy Bartkolovitch.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“It’s in the trailer. You guys put things away where
they’re supposed to go, you can find things no problem. This is Steve. He’s
gonna be working with us.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A quick, hooded glance. “Hey.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hey.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You want me to look for you? Guarantee I’ll find that
plastic in twenty seconds flat. I know the kind of mess you make. I got your
number!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I can handle it, Roy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You better!” Dave walked back toward the open end of the
big trailer. When he was gone Roy turned to me. “I love giving him shit. He
makes it so easy. Dave Smiley and I never seen him smile once! But I’m telling
you, these guys make me crazy. I have to clean out that trailer every other day.
The pigs who work for me! Great guys though, God bless em. So you start on
Monday. I’ll text you the address. Then we’ll see if you can paint.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The next time I saw Dave it was at a house in Waterford.
Escrow complications had delayed my first day, and the crew had been out of
work for a week, as the house closing inspections and paperwork crawled along.
It was ten days before Christmas, his wife was out of work, both his kids were
sick, his pay checks had dwindled, his furnace was broken, and the Connecticut
Energy Assistance bureaucracy was stalling the repairs. The last thing he
wanted to see was another person on the crew, gobbling man hours and shortening
the Pre-Christmas work-week. He gave me a grudging nod when I arrived at the
house. “Can you cut in? I need someone on the crew who can cut a ceiling.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I assured
Dave I could manage that --“Painting 101”, an old pal on Nantucket sneered when
I told him this story. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Dave just
squinted at me. “You get paint on the ceiling, you clean it yourself.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I nodded.
“Sounds fair.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">It soon
became clear that I had mastered the fundamentals of the trade, along with some
minor procedural details (Unroll rosin paper from the top of the roll so the
paper doesn’t curl up on the floor; fold sandpaper twice and then tear it, so
you don’t need to cut it with a putty knife – and some more obscure tricks,
like rigging circus style staging arrangements (OSHA would not approve!) for
paining the high walls above twisting flights of stairs. “I can’t believe I
don’t have to paint these fucking stairwells anymore,” Dave remarked a couple
of weeks later, after my third performance (ladder propped on rubber wedge,
supported by 5-gallon mud bucket on the step below). “I’ve had to paint every
fucking stairwell on every fucking job for the last five years.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The
comment was typical. I had begun to see a new side of Dave Smiley. This grumpy
overweight redneck had a way with people. A terse word of praise (“Nice job”,
“Looking good”) and better than that, an easy tolerance for mistakes (“Happens
to everybody,” “We can fix that no problem”) made him look like one of the
better bosses I had ever worked for, despite the unnerving fact that he was
young enough to be my son. The kid could organize a job, too, getting three or
four or five people moving on various aspects of a project with no fuss or
confusion. As he himself pointed out, things worked much better when “Hurricane
Roy” (as he called Bartkolovitch) wasn’t around.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dave was stoical about his heating problems,
wistful about a disappointing Christmas for his kids, and utterly devoted to
his wife, whom he referred to as “my girl”. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“My girl
got a great job this week, so things are looking up,” he told me, on break one day.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">At first
I had kept to myself during those rigidly mandated fifteen minute rest periods,
since I was the only one on the crew who didn’t smoke cigarettes. But I wound
up hanging out with the gang eventually, and poking at the hornet’s nest of our
political differences. That TRUMP sticker on Dave’s truck seemed more and more
inexplicable. Dave Smiley was not quite the deplorable I had expected. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“So, you
know Trump hates dogs, right?” I ventured one bone-chilling morning, after we’d
spent an hour in the sub-zero darkness loading up the trailer from Roy’s storage
space in the rustbelt moonscape of Baltic Connecticut.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Dave
ground out his cigarette. “Are you kidding?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“No man,
I’m serious. He’s the only President since McKinley who doesn’t have a dog, and
that was like a hundred and twenty years ago.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Shit,
really?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“And
McKinley died of gangrene after an assassination attempt. Just sayin. Probably
no connection.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Trump
doesn’t like dogs?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“He hates
em! Somebody compiled his tweets. Dogs are his go-to insult animal. ‘I beat him
down like a dog, he was begging like a dog, he choked like a dog, I fired him
like a dog -- ”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Dave
laughed. “He fired a dog?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Yeah, on
Celebrity Dog Apprentice. He fired a seeing eye dog.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Come
on.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Okay,
okay, but everything else is true.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“You
really don’t like the guy, do you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Hey, I’m
just the messenger. Trump hates dogs.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">A few
days later, at lunch, I said, “Have you noticed, Trump never laughs.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Sure he
does.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I
shrugged. “Search the internet – vimeo, youTube, whatever. Find some footage of
Trump laughing.”<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Two days later as we were
tearing down the plastic that had draped a kitchen where Roy had sprayed the
popcorn texture glop on the ceiling, Dave admitted, “You’re right about the
laughing. Nothing. Who the fuck never laughs?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Your
President.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">He
sighed. “What kind of fucked up country are we living in where the only choices
are Trump and Hillary Clinton?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I was
cautiously intrigued. Dave sounded disappointed – and pissed-off. Buyer’s
regret?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I just
wanted … change,” he said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Things
getting worse is change,” I replied helpfully.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">He shook
his head. “Tell me about it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Perhaps
it was just a sour mood. I friended him on Facebook that night. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">It was an
eye-opener.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Among the
novelty posts, he liked and shared items about speedboats shaped like sharks, a
guy who makes furniture out of chocolate, and plant matter biodegradable bags,
the heartening aesthetic cheerleading (for Lars Von Trier and Hunter Thompson),
I found the predictable right wing chatter of half-digested propaganda and lazy
false equivalences, attacks on gun control advocates and pro-choice liberals,
claims that Trump would end corruption. I almost wrote a comment, but after a
series of kamikaze letters to our local newspaper, I had finally learned my
lesson: no one ever did any serious damage to themselves by hitting the delete
button. Whatever our political differences I still had to work with this guy
every day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">And the
work itself was getting more grueling all the time. Bartkolovitch billed himself
as a “Residential and Commercial” paint contractor, but I had no idea what the
commercial side of the business entailed until he took on the State Of
Connecticut employment office job. The low-slung building was located in the
crumbling municipality of Montville, half an hour north of New London on route
395.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The
cavernous space, twice the size of a supermarket, was wedged between a mortgage
broker and a liquor store in a strip mall, opposite a McDonalds and a hill of
ragged trees. The trees offered an elegiac note, evoking the ghost of a rural
paradise long bulldozed for this disintegrating commercial shanty town. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">It was
dark inside the building, with bare beams and hanging coils of wire and giant
propane heaters taking the edge off the winter chill. It reminded me of that
conversation from Kevin Smith’s first movie <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Clerks,</i>
when one of the titular convenience store employees chastises George Lucas for
the destruction of the second Death Star in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Return
of the Jedi.</i> The battle station in the first film was a fully operational
military machine, full of soldiers. The second one was still under construction
when it was blown up – the only people there were the workers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I felt
like one of them in the echoing dimly lit industrial cave of the half completed
employment office. Would the Millennium Falcon come zipping through it,
shooting off proton torpedoes? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">One could
only hope.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The job
was a “prevailing wage” opportunity, which meant roughly double the hourly rate
for painting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">What does
the term “Prevailing Wage” mean exactly?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">According
to the Connecticut Labor Board:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The term <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">"prevailing wage"</span> means
the total base hourly rate of pay and bona fide fringe benefits customary
or prevailing for the same work in the same trade or occupation in the town
where the project is to be constructed. The prevailing wage rate schedules
developed by the U.S. Department of Labor (and used by the Connecticut
Department of Labor) indicate specific amounts for both components of the rate.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Of course, most of these compensation packages
were determined through labor union negotiations over the last fifty years.
Labor Unions: the last bastion of power for the Democratic party. I didn’t
mention that to Dave. My disagreement with him about the Montville job had
nothing to do with his history of the labor movement. He just couldn’t believe
I was willing to give up the fifty bucks an hour because I didn’t want to work
nights. That anyone would give up fifty bucks an hour for any reason seemed
crazy to him. The money would change his life that winter. Was I independently
wealthy? No, just a morning person who would become a liability on the job
after the sun went down.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Roy accepted my refusal, but used it to trick me
in his shrewd blunt affable way. “I want to start at six tomorrow morning.
That’s your good time!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Checkmate.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Even working days was hard at Montville, but Dave
managed to keep things moving, spraying vast swaths of wall while the rest of
us cut in against the metal bands that marked the edge of the ceilings or
caulked the endless metal door casings. In a warren of small offices I had to
jump from room to room as Dave caught up to me with the sprayer. At the end of
the first day he took me aside. “Hey, it got really confusing in there for a
while. You should go back and check, make sure you didn’t miss anything. I know
I would have, and Roy gets crazy about shit like that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I took his advice, and found an embarrassing
number of misses. I thanked him, and quoted an old school Nantucket
housepainter who used to advise you to “step back and admire your work” –
knowing you’d see all your mistakes when you did.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Dave shrugged. “Yeah except you can’t see shit in
this fucking place.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Still, he managed to teach Josh Tilden, the
youngest member of the crew, to use the sprayer on that job. Dave was typically
firm, patient and attentive: “Have the gun moving before you hit the trigger,
make sure it overlaps, keep it moving, that’s it. Sway with the gun, get the
rhythm, nice. You got a sag there but not problem, Pete’s rolling out behind
us.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">There were two Petes on the crew. One was Roy’s
brother-in-law, a shrewd, easy-going bear of a guy, part Grizzly, part
Winnie-the-Pooh. He worked part time to help out, and handled most of the
company paper work. The other Pete was a sad squinting barfly with thinning
hair and fading tattoos, who hadn’t expected enough from his life to be
disappointed by it. But he managed a consistent stream of petty griping that
got on everyone’s nerves.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“He’ll be gone soon,” Dave told me. “Guys like
him don’t last working for Roy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Dave had higher hopes for Josh, a good looking,
blithe spirited work horse who had run off-shore fishing boats until an injury
sidelined him. Knocked overboard by a trawling net, he was pulled half frozen
out of the Atlantic with a two broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder that never
healed properly. “I got some nice Jones Act dough out of it, though,” he said
when he told me the story. They had given him vicodin for the pain and he was
soon addicted. Heroin was cheaper he was shooting up twice a day until he “got
into the program” and switched to methadone. He’d been on methadone for a year.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“He could still get straight,” Roy told me, on
the long drive to a southern Connecticut paper mill where he had contracted to
paint the ceilings. “I’m not so sure about Dave.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">That caught my attention. “Dave?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“You kidding? He’s been on methadone for five
years. He’s never getting off it. That shit is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">in</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">his bones</i>.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Roy was a recovering addict as well. I soon
learned that he had gathered most of his crew from Narc-anon meetings. The
secret came out when Josh was having trouble finding a methadone source in the
paper mill town, where we would be staying for three days. But Roy had
connections there. It wasn’t a problem for Dave because he wasn’t going.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We did a
job there last year,” he told me, “And I am never going back to that <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">place. I told Roy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Never. That is
the worst fucking job you’ll ever do. Don’t go, buddy. That’s my advice. Stay
here, we’ll finish up Montville together.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">It took me a while to bring up the methadone
revelation, but Dave shrugged it off. “Pretty much everyone I know is doing smack
or in a program. Half the friends I went to high school with are dead already.
I’m serious. This shit is real.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Somehow I had landed not just in Trump country,
but in the dead center, or more accurately the central vein, of the opioid
crisis. I never asked Dave how he started doing drugs – maybe next year, if we
work together again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">After a long day of soothing customers,
instructing the crew and cutting in half a dozen rooms with me, I told him he
should go into business for himself. “I’d work for you any time,” I said. And I
meant it. Indeed, it did seem like Dave was planning some kind of move, since
Roy was teaching Josh a lot of the managerial basics, from painting 101 to
driving with a twenty foot trailer behind the truck. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Jeff was right about the paper mill. Forty feet
up on a rusting metal catwalk, peeling dead paint off a corrugated ceiling in
the ninety degree heat, bones shaken by the relentless vibrations from the
giant machines below us, ears battered by the roar of white noise, I knew I
couldn’t handle working up there in a suffocating protective jump suit and
vapor mask, whose filters would clog as the day wore on, making it ever more
difficult to breathe. I was on the verge of an asthma attack on day one. I knew
I couldn’t hack it, and Roy had to lead me out of the mill and drive me back to
the motel. He was good about it. “Some people can do this work and some people
can’t.” he shrugged. “Now I’m a man shy but we’ll get it done. Take it easy and
God bless.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Calling my wife to come get me felt like calling
my mom to take me home from summer camp early. But I had escaped. The longing,
stoical looks on the faces of the other crew members as I started down the
steep metal stairs to the factory floor told me I wasn’t crazy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The job was crazy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Dave just laughed. “Told you so.” And he had me
beat: “Last trip, the platform was so hot they wouldn’t let anyone up there for
more than fifteen minutes at a time. Plus it was a part of the mill where the
metal was always wet so we had to use paint you could spray <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">onto wet metal</i>. Guess how toxic that
shit was. At least the Chinese buffet was good.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Roy did take us all out to the Chinese buffet
restaurant that Dave mentioned, but it struck me as sad – a luxurious treat for
someone who had never eaten in a really good restaurant and probably never
would. My sense of Dave’s life as a prison of hard work and austerity sharpened
on the day he offered to drive me home from a job in Uncasville. He asked me to
wait outside his house while he changed his clothes – because of the mess?
Because of some sense of my class snobbery? If so he had me wrong there. I had
lived in squalor for years and had knew how hard it was for a couple to keep
house with two full time jobs and two kids – two times too much to do. I
strolled his neighborhood while I waited, taking in all the grim details – the
weeds growing through the cracked asphalt, the rusty cars on blocks, the cheap
plastic toys scattered in the narrow yards, the bent crooked blinds in the
windows. The little side street felt abandoned. How would Dave ever get away
from here, move up, claw his way into the middle class? He definitely needed to
start his own paint contracting business and I mentioned it again on the long
drive down 395. Did he really think Trump was going to help him with that? The
guy who had stiffed every contractor who ever worked for him -- and even
stiffed the lawyers who defended him in the lawsuits against the contractors?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“At least he respects the flag,” Dave said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">We were into it now. “The Russian flag?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Come on. This is America right? Innocent until
proved guilty. That’s what I learned in school.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Innocent until you stop the investigation – or
pardon yourself.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“He can do that, man. He’s the President. You gotta
respect that. He doesn’t take shit from anyone. Look at that Colin Kaeperneck
thing. Disrespect the flag and Trump will take you down.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I took a breath -- tread softly. “That protest
had nothing to do with the flag, Dave. It was about police brutality and cops
killing black people.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">He sniffed. “Fine. But don’t use the flag then. I
thought Tim Tebow was full of shit too, when he did it to protest abortion. I’m
pro-life, but leave the flag out of it, you know?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I gave him marks for consistency, but he had
opened up another topic. “Something you posted on Facebook bothered me the
other day,” I began.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">He laughed. “I bet it all bothers you, buddy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Well … ” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Tree hugger.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“What about you? You posted about those
biodegradable plastic bags.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“It’s a good idea.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Trump doesn’t think so.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“How do you know?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Those bags solve a problem. He doesn’t think the
problem exists! He doesn’t believe in climate change.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Hey, slow down. The jury is out on that one.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“No it isn’t! The jury is in. The verdict is
guilty and the sentence is death.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Come on. There’s tons of scientists --”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“There’s two. Out of ten thousand! And they both
work for oil companies. Look, you can prove it for yourself. It’s common sense.
Sunlight enters the atmosphere in long waves that penetrate the carbon dioxide.
They bounce back in short waves that can’t penetrate it, like the glass in your
car. That’s why cars get hot when you leave the windows closed. Here’s a
slogan—‘Global Warming Killed My Dog’.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">He frowned. “I have to think about that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Yes you do. You have to think about all this
stuff. Like comparing pro-choice advocates to mass shooters.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“That’s not what I was saying.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“The lady hates guns because they kill kids, and
she just killed her own. That was the gist of it.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Okay. So what?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“It’s … a sloppy comparison. It assumes two
absolute ideas, when one of them is anything but. People disagree about
abortion. No one disagrees about murdering innocent children with military
assault rifles. People don’t even agree about when abortion becomes murder.
Some people think masturbation is murder – sperm slaughter. I’m serious. I’m
not talking a stand for or against abortion or choice or whatever. I’m just
saying, it’s hard to think clearly when you have all these weird off-kilter
analogies kicking around in your head. Calling a pro-choice lady a child killer
is just a way of not listening to her. Like that post where you say people who
are against assault rifles don’t know anything about guns. Hundreds of
Sheriff’s Departments and Police Departments have come out for reasonable gun
control legislation. I read an article by an ex-Navy seal who said you don’t
give military armament to civilians. You think that guy doesn’t know about
guns?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I think you spend too much time on my Facebook
page.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">We both laughed. “Maybe you’re right.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">A few minutes later, as we sat in a commuter lot
just off the highway waiting for Annie to pick me up, Dave said, “Roy’s having
a tough time right now. Couple of customers are stalling and he just had his
big workman’s comp audit. Paychecks may be a little late. So I mean … if you
need something to tide you over – my girl’s working two jobs and we’re doing
okay right now.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“No, I’m good. But thanks, man.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Hey, I told her you’re a writer and she wants to
read your books. I don’t read but she loves that shit.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I’ll get her one.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Cool.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Dave’s wife Jackie worked with us one day a few
weeks later, during the always horrible cleaning-out-after-a-finished job phase
of a nasty residential marathon, east of Norwich. She worked hard and
tirelessly, with no need for instructions. During a break she told me she was
reading the book I’d given Dave and mentioned that he was the eldest of seven
children. It made sense. Roy was the mostly-absentee Dad and the crew made up
the rowdy, lackadaisical crowd of younger siblings, regardless of our actual
ages. “It was nice, what you said to him about working for him if he goes out
on his own. He was happy to hear that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Do you think he’ll do it?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I don’t know. I sure hope so. Give him a call
when you come back next year.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I was heading back home to Nantucket soon, and
there was a lot we never got to talk about. But I knew Dave had already heard
some of what I was saying. A few days later, Roy was griping about a kid who
had quit and started a rival painting company, using many of Roy’s techniques
and poaching several of his customers. “You don’t do that,” he said, “Bite the
hand that feeds you.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Dave looked up from cutting a sheet of rosin
paper. “What are you talking about Roy? You didn’t feed Jerry! You paid him for
a day’s work. And the guy worked hard. He worked rings around me some days.
Don’t compare him to a dog! Dogs don’t work – anyway yours doesn’t. And you own
your dog, man. Nobody owns Jerry, except maybe the IRS.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">He got to his feet, headed for the door, grinned
as he walked by, and whispered, “Bad analogy!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">That moment of linguistic solidarity prompted a
vision of a potential friendship, down the line. It sounded like a joke: a tree
hugger and a gun nut walk into a bar. And the bartender says – what? “We need a
Priest and a Rabbi to make this gag work!” or maybe, “If a tree falls in the
forest on top of a gun nut, does that count as ‘concealed carry’?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Or how about … the bartender says, “What’ll ya
have,” the gun nut buys a Bud Lite, and the tree hugger takes a glass of Pinot
Noir. They each roll their eyes, then they take a hike in the woods and spend
an hour at the shooting range. Not particularly funny, but oddly heartening in
these days of partisan tribal warfare.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I’m back home now, but Dave and I still “like”
each other’s posts on Facebook and try to keep in touch. I know he’ll never be
Democrat, but maybe I can talk him around to becoming an old-school Republican
– the kind that hates Russia and loves the FBI. I hope our months of working
together showed Dave something surprising about pansy lefty wing libtards. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">As for me, I learned that I was dead wrong that
first day in December. In fact Dave Smiley represents most of what’s best about
America – hard work, generosity, leadership, decency, a spiky sense of humor
and a willingness to see beyond the grotesque cartoon parody profiling that
defines our political discourse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I still want to discuss the link he posted
recently about the Democratic Party being the “biggest threat to America”,
though.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Really Dave? The same party that fought for the
prevailing wage laws that meant so much to you, and the fuel assistance program
that got you through the winter? Oh, well. </span><span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Maybe next year. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">It’s
worth a try.<span style="background: white; color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />Axelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09627668511171741211noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18430290.post-55974169046075919832015-03-10T12:49:00.002-07:002015-03-10T12:49:04.656-07:00An Evening's Entertainment <img alt="Chekhov" hspace="5px" id="cid_8372224" src="http://open.salon.com/files/chekhov1421195452.jpg" width="285" /><br />
After binge watching <em>Luther</em>, <em>House of Cards</em> and the first four seasons of <em>Girls</em> over the last few weeks, Annie and I tried something a little different last night. Friends of ours had invited us over for a light dinner and a read-through of Anton Chekhov's <em>Uncle Vanya. </em>We scurried out into a squalling rain storm and arrived late, chilled and dripping. It reminded me of Bill Murray's playwright character Jeff, in Tootsie: <br />
<em>I don't want a full house at the Winter Garden theater. I want ninety people who just came out of the worst rainstorm in the city's history. These are people who are alive on the planet -- until they dry off. I wish I had a theater that was only open when it rained.</em><br />
There were seven of as altogether, veterans of the Nantucket Theater workshop, and one younger woman I had seen a few years ago playing Emily in a superb local production of <em>Our Town. </em>Our host had directed me in two David Mamet plays and acted with me in one, back in the 90s. Annie had acted in or directed plays with all of them. She played Mrs. Webb in <em>Our Town</em> and Ouisa Kittredge in <em>Six Degrees of Separation </em>a couple of years ago, alongside two of the other guests. Our hostess studied Chekhov at Yale and has directed and acted in numerous productions, good and bad. She made an interesting point, between the home-made chicken soup and the table read: Bad Chekhov happens when people play to the language -- acting sad an mopey when they say things like "What does it matter? My life is over!" When actors treat the lines as comic, or at least ironic, they spring to life. Turns out, despair is kind of funny if you're stuck in the midle of it and realize how ridiculous you are.<br />
We read through the play, pausing now and then to talk about what was really happening in a scene.("Astrov and Yalena are flirting here"; "Sonya just wants to be comforted") It was fascinating, and soon the fatigue of a long day burned off and the wry sad fatalistic brilliance of the play took over. We reached the end and sat in stunned silence for a few minutes. The play felt as fresh and contemporary as if it were being prepared for an off-Broadway run today. Astrov was actually upset about deforrestation and global warming -- in 1897. Our hostess pointed out that Chekhov was the first playwright to make drama out of ordinary lives -- not the kings and princes of Shakespeare, fighting great battles, but down-at-heel landowners and doctors and failed academics, muddling through. He wrote them as workshop pieces so his friend Konstantin Stanislavsky could have scene work for his students as they worked out his new concepts of psychological drama.<br />
By the end of the evening we were telling crazy anecdotes of the old days at the Theater Workshop (The actress who fell asleep in the middle of a scene, the actor who showed up drunk and almost killed himself making his entrance down a fire-pole, head-first) , planning new projects and reminiscing about evenings like this back in the 70s when there was literally nothing else to do during the long Nantucket winters.<br />
When we got home I was reminded of acting in the old days, when I was way too wired after a performance to go to sleep. I finally dozed off around two in the morning and woke up to find myself redirected on the computer to the "walled garden" Comcast payment website. I was late with my bill and they wanted $179 to turn my cable and internet back on. Of course I paid them -- they make that part easy, at least. But I couldn't help thinking about the difference between the prefabricated TV entertainment we'd been staring at for the last few weeks, and the night before. Television, even the best television, is a supremely passive experience, designed to be narcotic. At the end of the last episiode you can barely crawl off to bed. <br />
After a night of Chekov, we were flying.<br />
Every element of the experiene seemed designed to awaken the dormant synapses -- the rain, the old friends, and most of all, the text. Just reading it aloud in a robotic monotone would have spiked the brain activity visible on an MRI. Actually engaging with the characters and their interactions, trying to understand what they wanted and what they were doing, probably caused a cranial fireworks display that would put the Fourth of July to shame. I thought of educated people in earlier centuries, with no X-box or movies, nothing to stream or download, playing chamber music together in the evenings. This was no different.<br />
And as I typed in my routing number and my account number for the greedy corporate story-mongers at Comcast, I couldn't help noting one other signifiant fact: The Chekhov was free.<br />
Axelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09627668511171741211noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18430290.post-77397947931593955132015-03-10T12:48:00.000-07:002015-03-10T12:48:02.514-07:00The College "For Profit" Sports Scandal -- Solved<fb:like action="like" class=" fb_iframe_widget" colorscheme="light" fb-iframe-plugin-query="action=like&app_id=116200888420249&color_scheme=light&container_width=0&font=verdana&href=http%3A%2F%2Fopen.salon.com%2Fblog%2Fsteven_axelrod%2F2015%2F01%2F05%2Fthe_college_for_profit_sports_scandal_--_solved&layout=button_count&locale=en_US&sdk=joey&show_faces=false&width=100" fb-xfbml-state="rendered" font="verdana" href="http://open.salon.com/blog/steven_axelrod/2015/01/05/the_college_for_profit_sports_scandal_--_solved" layout="button_count" show_faces="false" width="100"><span style="height: 20px; vertical-align: bottom; width: 80px;"><iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" height="1000" name="f21d2ffcbeaa194" scrolling="no" src="http://www.facebook.com/plugins/like.php?action=like&app_id=116200888420249&channel=http%3A%2F%2Fstatic.ak.facebook.com%2Fconnect%2Fxd_arbiter%2FrFG58m7xAig.js%3Fversion%3D41%23cb%3Df1180444bd9d9f2%26domain%3Dopen.salon.com%26origin%3Dhttp%253A%252F%252Fopen.salon.com%252Ffabdc041c118de%26relation%3Dparent.parent&color_scheme=light&container_width=0&font=verdana&href=http%3A%2F%2Fopen.salon.com%2Fblog%2Fsteven_axelrod%2F2015%2F01%2F05%2Fthe_college_for_profit_sports_scandal_--_solved&layout=button_count&locale=en_US&sdk=joey&show_faces=false&width=100" style="border-image: none; border: currentColor; height: 20px; visibility: visible; width: 80px;" title="fb:like Facebook Social Plugin" width="100"></iframe></span></fb:like><br />
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<img alt="NCAA" hspace="5px" id="cid_8371448" src="http://open.salon.com/files/ncaa1420512726.jpg" width="285" /></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Last Sunday, a shocking but not surprising edition of Bob Edwards' Weekend ran a documentary called "Dropping The Ball" . It described the horrific way college athletes are treated, with bogus "paper" courses that require no work at all and other classes that are tailored for the uninvolved and semi-literate.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;"> In fact, around 30% of college athletes, in the "for-profit" sports -- basketball and football -- read at somewhere around the third grade level and don't progress much beyond that by graduation. Some can't read at all.From a cold Capitalist viewpoint, this set-up makes sense. These kids aren't students. They're professional athletes, the best kind of professional athletes: the ones you don't have to pay.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;"> A woman who teaches remedial reading at the University of South Carolina – the epicenter of the most recent scandal – came forward with the truth and has been rewarded by hate mail and death threats. But professors at other schools have corroborated her story. These jocks take the deal university athletic programs offer because they're dreaming of a career in the NBA or the NFL. Some of them achieve that goal, but most of them don’t. The ones who are left behind face a grim future. After four years at college they remain uneducated. Their chances of a successful adult life are slim to none. Like old race horses who can no longer run fast enough, they are discarded and forgotten. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;">The players have to work a 50 hour week to stay in shape for the big games, and it’s impossible for them to carry a full university course load at the same time. No one expects them to. No one treats them like students or expects any meaningful academic performance from them. Too much money is riding on them keeping their undivided attention on the game. This is a business and the business model works. No one is going to change it. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;">So is the only solution to entirely dismantle the institution of NCAA sports?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;">I don’t think so.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;">The actual solution is simple. All it requires is for the schools to be honest and fair. I know that’s asking a lot, especially the honesty part, but h</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;">ere’s how it could work.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Athletes are signed for what is essentially a four year “farm team” semi-pro contract with the school. No fake classes, no lies and cheating, just a straightforward acknowledgment of the truth. After four years, ten to fifteen percent of them will go into professional sports, more than half will graduate with valid academic credentials and a solid start on a bright future. The thirty percent we’re talking about will be given the opportunity to re-enroll as actual students, with a four-year full ride scholarship to thank them for their previous unpaid labor, and a generous amount of tutoring and other special help to get them up to speed. No sports, no glory, no pro scouts buying them fancy dinners – just a fair shot at a real education. That’s what the schools promise now, with absolutely no intention of delivering. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;">They have to start making good on that promise. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;">And it could work. However academically challenged these kids might be, they have learned some crucial lessons during their years on the University basketball court or gridiron: teamwork, loyalty and most of all, discipline and the value of hard work. With help they can learn to apply those lessons to the classroom.</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;">They deserve a chance to try.</span> </div>
</div>
Axelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09627668511171741211noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18430290.post-83522771181619745852015-03-10T12:46:00.002-07:002015-03-10T12:46:49.979-07:00Emily Nussbaum's Drive-by Criticism<br />
<img alt="Nussbaum" hspace="5px" id="cid_8370865" src="http://open.salon.com/files/nussbaum1419861306.jpg" width="285" /><br />
Well, it's not just her, though as a high profile TV critic for <em>The new Yorker</em>, she ought to know better. <br />
First let's define our terms. A "drive by" critique is like a drive-by shooting -- fast and mean and cowardly: the opposite of a duel, or even a meaningful confrontation: squeeze the trigger, burn rubber and scram. Readers of the magazine that employs her know that Emily Nussbaum nurses an igrnorant, irrational loathing for Aaron Sorkin. Her fully realized essays about his work sound flat and shrill, as she takes the usual miss-by-a-mile potshots at the creator of <em>The West Wing</em>, <em>Sports Night</em> and <em>The Newsroom</em>: Sorkin is pompous, self-righteous, a bloviating narcissisitc bully, strutting his moral superiority and his overblown vocabulary for the unwashed masses. Yeah, well, he does have a good vocabulary. But it's his chracters talking, not him, and many of them (including the producer who faked a story on the second season of <em>The Newsroom</em>) are anything but the preening moral paragons Nussbaum describes. The protagonist of <em>The Newsroom</em> (her favorite target these days) Will McAvoy, starts out the show as a sold-out cable news anchor, lobbing whiffle ball questions at politicians with no follow up, pimping the lowest common denominator of infotainment in a greedy scramble for ratings. He has ideals but he's not living up to them. By the end of the show he's going to jail to protect a source. <br />
According to Nussbaum, having ideals makes you pretentious, and living up to them makes you a bore. Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact <em>The Newsroom</em> is far more entertaining, and serious, than the program Nussbaum was getting the vapors over this week -- <em>Black Mirror</em>, the new techno-<em>Twilight Zone</em> from England.<br />
<br />
<img alt="Black mirror" hspace="5px" id="cid_8370866" src="http://open.salon.com/files/black_mirror1419861377.jpg" width="285" /><br />
Nussbaum chides Sorkin for demanding integrity from real newscasters, and sneers at him for placing himself, and his made-up people, above the hardworking real-world journalists ... her pals. Maybe that's the secret of these bizarre, infantile screeds -- the newspeople writing about Sorkin feel threatened. Well, they deserve to. I saw Chuck Todd, who took over the venerable <em>Meet the Press </em>recently, explaining with no shame that he asks softball questions and lets politicians lie on his show beause if he got tough with them they would never come back. Sounds like something an Aaron Sorkin "straw man" reporter would say. But it wasn't. It was a real guy, a smug college drop-out trying to fill Tim Russert's shoes and betraying every fundamental principle of his trade. Reporters are supposed to confront politicians, not suck up to them. The high-pitched whistling sound you hear is Tim Russert spinning in his grave.<br />
<img alt="Newsroom" hspace="5px" id="cid_8370867" src="http://open.salon.com/files/newsroom1419861420.jpg" width="285" /><br />
So, Sorkin calls out debased puny sycophants like Chuck Todd and dramatizes one way they could do their job better. That makes him an urgently necessary moral visionary, not a clown. Sorry he hurt your feelings, Emily. But taking cheap shots at him doesn't do much to vindicate your point of view. In fact it just proves Sorkin's point.<br />
This week's cheap shot was especially lame and petty, revealing Nussbaum's shallow view, even of the shows she likes. She was raving about the <em>Black Mirror</em> pilot in which the Prime Minister is coerced into having sex with a pig on live televsion, to save the life of a kidnapped princess. Emily noticed the whole nation's obsession with the unfolding story. But she failed to mention (or just never saw the significance of) the key plot point. The terrorist releases the princess a full half hour before the deadline, because he knows no one will notice, because they all have their eyes glued to their little black screens. If anyone had just glanced up for a second, the whole horror show could have been stopped. That's the point. It may be a tad exaggerated, raised to the level of fable for effect, but the point itself is sound. I had a small jolt of that same reality last April when I found myself crossing to the shady side of the street on the first sunny day of the spring, so I could read the screen of my smartphone.<br />
Of course, if Sorkin had attempted such heavy handed commentary, Nussbaum would have been all over him like slime on tofu. But her drive-by attack chose to aim at his supposed techno-phobia. Check out this classic sentence with its perfectly aimed gratuitous parenthesis (She's discussing the creator of <em>Black Mirror</em>, Charlie Brooker).<br />
<strong>Because Brooker is an insider, with a deep and imaginative understanding of tech culture, he doesn't come off as <em>The Simpson's "</em>Old Man Yells at Cloud" (or Aaron Sorkin, his representative here on earth).</strong><br />
I'll tell something about Aaron Sorkin -- he's never written a sentence that clumsy, or taken a cheap shot like that at anyone. And it's bullshit anyway -- Sorkin is no Luddite ... though some of his characters are (notably news director McKenzie McHale). Neil Sampat, a character who grew in stature and importance through all three seasons of the show, was dedicated to bringing Atlantis Media into the 21st century. <br />
<img alt="Neil" hspace="5px" id="cid_8370869" src="http://open.salon.com/files/neil1419861480.jpg" width="285" /><br />
His only complaint with the internet was the people who abused it. But that point is a little too nuanced to fit into Nussbaum's lazy, smart-aleck parenthesis. Nussbaum thinks that sideswipe makes her look shrewd and cool. Instead she comes off as paltry and unkind, rebarbative and unprofessional. But she remains at her post, and <em>The Newsroom</em> has been cancelled.<br />
I humbly suggest the opposite approach: bring back the show, and fire the critic.Axelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09627668511171741211noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18430290.post-85098888496168432492015-03-10T12:45:00.002-07:002015-03-10T12:45:14.180-07:00Nantucket 5-Spot interviewThe new Henry Kennis novel ,<em> <a href="http://www.poisonedpenpress.com/nantucket-fivespot/">Nantucket Five-Spot</a> </em><br />
will be released in January. I did an inyerview about writing for a local give-away newspaper, which never ran it. But I think it's worth reading, in the exciting run-up to the publication date!<br />
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 11.5pt;"> </span></div>
First, the questions --<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 11.5pt;">1. Tell me about your creative process. Where do you write? How do your ideas come to you? </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 16.2pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 11.5pt;">2. How does your day job influence your writing?</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 16.2pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 11.5pt;">3. Are your characters based on real people on the island?</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 16.2pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 11.5pt;">4. Tell me a little bit about <em>Nantucket Fivespot.</em></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 16.2pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 11.5pt;">5. How many more Kennis books do you anticipate? </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 11.5pt;">6. Where are you originally from, and how did you end up on Nantucket?</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 16.2pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 11.5pt;">7. Tell me about your years in Hollywood and how they have shaped you as a writer. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 11.5pt;">8. Do you see any of yourself in Kennis, or vice versa? If so, please elaborate. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 11.5pt;"> </span></div>
And the answers --<br />
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 11.5pt;">1 -- I always write early in the morning -- usually from 5:00 to 7:30 or so. Partly that's because the integument between dreaming and reality is thinnest when you first wake up, before all the mundane stressful demands of the day begin. I remember when my kids were babies -- they're 18 months apart, so we had two under two for a while there -- having to start writing at four in the morning, to get something done before they woke up, I went to work at seven in those days, so the routine was brutal. I did manage to finish a book, though! And I might just sell it some day. I got an interested e-mail from an agent this week, thirty years later! Relentlessness pays off. That's my advice to writers: be relentless.<br /> <br /> As to ideas ... the most literary ones come out of real life, the desire to distill and express my actual experiences. I remember driving in a cab in Manhattan years ago with a girlfriend thinking as we cut through the park to the West Side, with Pilgrim Hill dropping away to the sailboat pond beside us, thinking ... she is seeing a totally different place than I am. She sees a grassy hill with a turbid, cement-walled pool at the bottom. I'm seeing a hundred sled-rides, and the day my dog fell into the water, and class trips to the zoo -- a whole lifetime of memories. I wanted to make her see <em>my </em>Central Park. That's where a lot of the serious writing comes from. In detective fiction, so much of it is just finding what I call decepticons ... things that seem to be one thing but turn out to be something else -- clues. Connections that my detective can see and other people can't. You don't actually think of those -- at least I don't. They sort of appear. Like when my friend showed up in a wet jacket on a sunny day and told me it had been raining in Madaket. I thought -- decepticon! The suspect says he was in Madaket but his jacket was dry. And Henry knows it was raining because his second-in-command is a bird-watcher and he was out at the west end on a birding trip that day. Those little moments are gold to a newbie detective fiction writer.<br /> <br /> 2 -- I say in most bios that I write novels and paint houses, often at the same time, much to the annoyance of my customers. Unfortunately Poisoned Pen Press cut out the last part. My Dad was right -- people love to take out the jokes. In fact painting and writing are an excellent match. Repetitive physical labor frees the mind and I often end a day of disc-sanding or sash painting with just the idea I need for the next morning's work.<br /> <br /> 3 -- Most of the characters are amalgams of numerous people, who have little in common. Billy Delavane is part Neil Brosnan and part Ginger Andrews, with some of my old pal Steve Vannerson thrown in. And of course part of him is me. Someone one pointed out that they could see a lot of me in both Mike Henderson (A house-painter ... hmmmmm) and Henry Kennis. But there's a little of me in Preston Lomax, too.<br /> <br /> 4 -- <em>Nantucket Five-Spot </em>comes out next January. Here's part of the query letter that convinced the editor at Poisoned Pen to read it:</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;">Locals, my 92,000 word mystery, takes place on the resort island of Nantucket, and the action covers three weeks in late July and early August, the height of the tourist season. A series of bombings threatens to destroy the island’s economy, along with its cachet as a haven for the wealthy. A local carpenter is accused of the crimes, but careful investigation -- by a police chief reminiscent of Jesse Stone in Robert B. Parker’s <em>Paradise</em> mysteries – proves that he’s being framed. The story takes an unusual twist when it turns out that the new suspect is also being framed -- for the bizarre and almost unrecognizable crime of framing someone else. Every piece of evidence works three ways, eventually leading to the true villain and an obsessive revenge conspiracy stretching back twenty years, rooted in betrayed friendship, infidelity and the quiet poisonous feuds of small town life</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;">It sounds insanely complicated, and it gave me migraines to write it, but all the early readers seem to approve. So ... fingers crossed!</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;">5 -- Poisoned Pen Press only publishes series. Barbara Peters and her husband ran the Poisoned Pen book store in Scottsdale, Arizona for many years before they decided to start a publishing venture, and by then they knew mystery readers inside out. Well, yeah --they'd been studying them for decades. One thing they figured out was that people like series. They want more of the same (but slightly different); and they like a character who grows and develops over the years. Obvious examples that come to mind: the Kenzie-Gennaro novels of Dennis Lehane and the Harry Bosch books by Michael Connelly. And don't forget Jack Reacher! Lee Child has a new one coming in September and I can't wait. Thomas Perry has #8 in his incomparable Jane Whitefield series hitting the stores in January. People who come to <em>A String of Beads </em>fresh, and love it, will want to read the previous seven Jane Whitefield adventures, so every new reader's book-buying is automatically multiplied by the number of books in the series. Probably the most stunning example this is the Harry Potter novels, which built their audience exponentially, book by book. It works for little guys, too. Poisoned Pen doesn't really care how your first book fares in the marketplace -- they it will continue to sell as more books in the series come out. For that reason they want you to write at least four. I've outlined stories through #6, and I'm sure I'll have no problem carrying on after that. Nantucket is very inspirational</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;">6-- I grew up bi-coastal in the days when air travel was a treat. First Class on TWA was giddy fun for a ten-year old, back in 1962. I was living in Los Angeles when I got back together with my college sweetheart. She move to LA, but she really hated it. "No matter where you go you're in the middle of nowhere," she said once. and another time, "These people think white wine is health food." We made a deal: if I didn't succeed as a screenwriter in five years, we'd move to someplace she wanted to live. That place was Nantucket. Her parent has honeymooned here in 1952; when they came back for their 20th anniversary it hadn't changed at all. They have two photographs, posed under the old Downeyflake donut on South Water Street. She had grown up as a vagabond following her Dad from state to state (He worked for McKinsey as a consultant), and she wanted her kids to have a hometown, even if they wound up leaving and never coming back. They'll always come back, but Caity is working as a social worker in Boston, and Nick is study for an masters degree in Public Policy at the American University in Beirut. You couldn't get much farther away than that. But he still misses his friends, the parties at 40th Pole. I hated it here at first -- I spent February of 1984 re-shingling the roof of the Stone Barn Inn! -- but I'm still here and Kim is gone. Very odd.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;">7 -- In Hollywood I learned two things: story structure, and dealing with rejection. The one part of a screenplay that tends to survive the re-writes and director's touches is the structure. If you can carpenter together a solid plot, they usually leave it alone. The rest is action and dialogue. As a screenwriter, not to put too fine a point on it, EVERYONE ELSE IS DOING YOUR WORK FOR YOU. What about dialogue?, you might ask. Fair enough, but let's face it, dialogue is either easy and natural or just plain impossible for most writers. There's not much territory between perfect pitch and tone deaf, clever and stilted. Most screenwriters can spin out ten pages of dialogue before their first latte in the morning. Cutting it back is the tricky part. But other people do that job for you, too.<br /><br /> And every other aspect of the task is a free ride for the screenwriter. Atmosphere? The cinematographer and the composer handle that stuff. Creating the physical world in which the story takes place? The director, the production designer, the location manager, the CGI teams have that corner hammered down. Chemistry between the characters? It's Brangelina for chrissake. Or Bogey and Bacall, or Tracy and Hepburn. It's handled. Sex? That's the director's lookout. Screenwriters don't even have to try. As Shane Black said among his memorable stage directions in his <em>Last Boy Scout</em> script, "Hey, my mother reads this stuff. Actually I probably lost Mom in the hot tub blow job scene."<br /><br /> But the most crucial aspect of writing fiction scarcely appears in the screenwriter's life. The only faint hints are the stage directions 'CUT TO'and 'DISSOLVE TO'. <br /><br /> I'm talking aboiut transitions. <br /><br /> There's a reason why Virginia Woolf, when someone asked her how her writing day had gone, answered, "It was great. I got them off the couch, through the french doors and onto the veranda." That's the tough part, making those physical transitions work. Even tougher are the mental transitions... or as they say in the movies: 'actor's moments'. Describing the intricate mental process by which a character figures out something important,or changes his mind, or makes a decision, is the most technically demanding task a writer is ever faced with. If you make a single mistake, if a comma is out of place, if you say too much or too little, or lapse into cliche, rush or dawdle, over-play or understate, then you break the dream, and the reader becomes aware of you and your clumsy efforts, and the whole delicate machine comes to a grinding halt. <br /><br /> In fact, writing a book is just one transition after another, making things flow visually and physically, balancing action and thought and description in every paragraph. Compared to a screenwriter, it's like juggling a chain saw, a bowling pin and an apple (while eating the apple) ... versus, some guy lobbing a ball from hand to hand. "Look," he might remark, "Polish juggling." Pretty good line, slotted in there before the cut away. That's all a screenwriter needs.<br /><br /> Here's the last secret: this peripheral role in story telling is the real reason screenwriters are so miserable. Yes, they're at the bottom of the pecking order in Hollywood. Yes, they get paid worse than everyone else above the line. But their status is so low because they don't have enough to do. And they don't have enough fun. Making a narrative move all by yourself, keeping the action floating above the shallow spots, tacking through the perfect channels, is a challenge, yeah; it's tiring and frustrating. But it's also a gas. And screenwriters never feel it. Moving from the young hero to the about-to-be-killed mafioso whose death will kick the story into gear, all the screenwriter can do is say "CUT TO". The writer can do it any way he wants ... this way, for instance: "Eighty blocks downtown, Alfredo Blasi was thoroughly enjoying the last two hours of his life." You create momentum with a line like that. you jazz things up and put a spin on them. And you can do it as much as you want. You can play. Screenwriters can only watch the game from the outside, at that first preview (if they're invited). <br /><br /> No wonder they gripe all the time. But it's an easy complaint to fix. So I feel like saying to all those miserable scribes: Put that half-finished script aside, and try your hand at a novel -- or even a short story. Write a first sentence that lives and keep the action alive, hot and slippery, jumping in your hand, word by word until the end. <br /><br /> Try real writing. You may never go back. </span><span style="color: black; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;">That's what I did. I think it was the right choice.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;">8 -- As to me and Henry Kennis ... he is me! Just younger and smarter -- and much better looking.</span></div>
Axelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09627668511171741211noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18430290.post-45287740921122062702015-03-10T12:44:00.002-07:002015-03-10T12:44:05.903-07:00Monopoly Capitalism at Work <img alt="netgear" hspace="5px" id="cid_8359220" src="http://open.salon.com/files/netgear1406894909.jpg" width="285" /><br />
I had a good laugh the other day, listening to that recording of the exhausted customer trying to cancel his Comcast account, against the relentless "Why, why whys?" of the maniacal cable company representative.<br />
Then I broke my computer router, an accident which allowed me my own glimpse of media giant Comcast at work. Corporations may be people, but unfortunately most of them are bad people --sneaky self-satisfied bullies, scofflaws,cheats and liars. With the Congress and the Supreme Court on their side (or in their pockets) they're like the schoolyard thug who happens to be the Headmaster's son. Or the pig-faced++ Sherriff shaking you down in some dusty little down, smirking, "Watcha gonna do, buddy? Call the cops?"<br />
When I called Comcast, they told me I would need a new router, but the only one they were offering was a new improved router/modem combination unit. If this sounds smart and convenient let me remind you of Axelrod's Third Law: All improvements make things worse. In this case the "improvement" consisted of a much weaker and smaller router tucked into the modem. It's signal doesn't reach to the second floor of our apartment, where Annie has her office.<br />
My first thought -- that's odd! The old, separate router worked just fine. When I went back to the comcast office they blithely told me I needed a "booster". This cost just over a hundred dollars. Would Comcast pay for it? Of course not. The trick is to make me pay extra. The fact that they proided me a defective machine is quite irrelevant. The nice girl behind the counter thought I was making a joke. <br />
I bought the device, but of course I couldn't get it to work without a $129 call to a Netgear affliliated tech service. Even with the tech guy on the phone it took almost four hours to get everything up an running. So I lost around $250 and a morning's work in the busiest time of the year. I can't help thinking that a competitor willing to provide a workable replacement router for free would have forced Comcast into a more cooperative response.<br />
The customer on the phone with the die-hard Comast seales rep last week refused to explain why he wanted to change his internet and cable provider. More than anything else, that's what drove the sales rep. crazy<br />
He should give me a call. I'll give him an ear-full.Axelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09627668511171741211noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18430290.post-18791817023265680762015-03-10T12:42:00.002-07:002015-03-10T12:42:59.632-07:00Nantucket Summer: Moving Violations<div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">If I were Henry Kennis, the Police Chief in my Nantucket mystery novels, there are days when I would arrest everyone on the I see on the streets Not all of them are breaking the law – the drunk drivers and the speeders; but their outrages are just as infuriating, especially when we hit the mid-point of the summer, August is careening toward us, and you know it’s all just going to get worse. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Where to start? How about with the Rotary piggy-backers? Sit on the deck at Lola Burger and watch the show – three, four, five, six cars caravanning into the roundabout from Milestone road, an unbroken train of heedless overpriced metal, while everyone else fumes and waits. The last car – most likely a Range Rover or a BMW M5 – was still on Polpis Road when the the painter in the old van, heading out from Marine Home Center, arrived at the intersection. And yet somehow Mr. BMW is entitled to first place in the line. He pushes to the front at Bartletts and Sandoli’s, too. But his kids are worse, texting while they drive, honking and shouting abuse when the lady in front of them hits the brakes for a gaggle of kids on bikes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Then there are the finger twigglers, the lords of the four-way stop sign. They got there first but refuse to go through, wiggling their fingers at you, imperiously granting you permission to drive on. Does that seem neighborly and polite? Just try ignoring them. Then you find out it’s some kind of perverse twisted power play.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I haven’t forgotten the parking lot miscreants. They don’t get – or choose to ignore -- the most obvious, if unwritten, parking lot rule: free parking spaces are a lottery. If someone is loading their groceries into the back of their car as you’re driving by, YOU LOSE. Keep moving. Leave the spot for the next person. Don’t make a growing line of cars wait for five minutes so you can grab it. Most of all, do not BACK UP when you realize you’ve passed newly liberated spot, and force all those other people to back up also, for your convenience. No one cares about your convenience. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">At least the Stop & Shop has marked spaces. The long side of Marine home center, where the tradesmen park, has never bothered to paint in some slant parking lines, so most days you see two big trucks parked in a V, or one giant van parked parallel – anything to use up an extra space or two during the busiest time of the year. Thanks, guys.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Which brings us to the oh-so-special ten-speed racing bike divas. We paid five million dollars for our bike paths on this island, your lordships – so use them. I know, you’re too good, too cool in your rainbow spandex and toe clips, too far above the lowly three speed family excursionists and the kids with the training wheels. You deserve to share the road with the cars. Except, sorry, but you don’t. You block traffic, you’re a danger to yourself and others, and your smug Tour-de-France attitude just makes you look like clowns. Get over yourselves and use the bike path – or we may start drug testing you.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The worst offenders are the parents with their double wide baby carriages who refuse to use the sidewalks. They’re called sidewalks, super-Mom. Let’s parse that. They’re located on the <em>side of the road</em> for people <em>walking</em>. That would be you. What’s the problem? Do the brick sidewalks disturb your baby’s beauty sleep? He’ll live. I heard one toddler calling his mom from inside one of those deluxe canopied rickshaws, on his cellphone. Every toddler should have a cellphone – and its so hard to text when you’re rolling over the bricks. If I have to sit in one more line of cars on Union Street, backed halfway up to the duck pond because of some oblivious parent with a baby carriage … I’ll just roll up the windows, turn on the air conditioner and listen to someone on the radio talking about the delights of a Nantucket summer. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Which will make me no different than the idior who ruined my lunch a few days ago at the little turn-out near the Island Home. It’s one of the few peaceful spots mid-island, with a lovely view of the marsh and the harbor. The air was mild and silky, but this guy in his giant truck wouldn’t know that, because his windows were rolled up and the air-conditioning was on, cheating himself of the true beauty of the day and treating us to a dose of fumes and engine noise worthy of the Cross-Bronx Expressway. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It’s enough to make you flee back to the Bronx. At least in a real city you can see more than one movie and buy a decent bagel. The moving violators of Nantucket should make boat reservations, jump in their SUVs, get out of here and give it a try. We’ll come down to the boat and throw confetti, as if they were leaving on the QE II. I know, that’s not going to happen. And it’s okay – they’ll all be gone after Labor Day. That’s only five weeks from now. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">But this year more than any year I can remember, I’ll be counting down the seconds.</span> </div>
Axelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09627668511171741211noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18430290.post-44632196696636635362015-03-10T12:41:00.003-07:002015-03-10T12:41:57.601-07:00Op-Ed Round-Up, Mass Killers Edition<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
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In honor of Dick Cheney’s recent op-ed piece on Iraq, and because I know you’re all busy and there’s so much to read out there I’m offering a round up of four other editorial voices heard around the world in recent weeks. There’s nothing like a self-serving screed by a legendary amoral monster, mass killer or war criminal to lighten the mood over coffee and croissants!</div>
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<strong>Heinrich Himmler</strong></div>
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Writing in <em>Der Speigel</em></div>
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<u>The gist:</u></div>
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Apparently Jew were really bad. They had horns and stuff. And Hitler was a lovely man, mistreated by history. “Arbeit Mach Frei” – words to live by! New developments in Europe give him hope.</div>
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<strong>Torquemada</strong></div>
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Writing in <em>El Coreo</em></div>
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<u>The Gist</u><em>:</em></div>
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The Inquisition was necessary and effective – and a lot of fun. It should be brought back promptly, especially considering the new lax and subversive tone from the Vatican. “Call me old school,” he says. “But nothing beats a good torture session to help a heathen see the light.” </div>
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<strong>Pol Pot</strong></div>
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<strong><u>The Gist:</u></strong></div>
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Writing in the <em>Rasmei Kampuchea Daily</em></div>
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“I just don’t like people who disagree with me!”</div>
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<strong>Vlad the Impaler</strong></div>
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<em>Writing in the Transylvaniq Times</em></div>
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<u>The Gist:</u></div>
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He wants to set the record straight. He was a beloved ruler and even a folk hero in Romania. People wanted to stay on his good side! As for all that impaling, He only impaled people when they deserved it. “Fair is fair.”</div>
Axelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09627668511171741211noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18430290.post-48390218442291059122015-03-10T12:40:00.002-07:002015-03-10T12:40:25.065-07:00Unsung Super Heroes: Embrace the Alphabet, X-Men Fans<img alt="x men" hspace="5px" id="cid_8353823" src="http://open.salon.com/files/x_men1401024575.jpg" width="285" /><br />
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Enough with the X-men movies, already! There was one trilogy, then a prequel, than a bunch of unwatchable Wolverine pictures and now they've mashed the Wolverine, the prequels and the sequels into one giant steaming savory X-men Paella for us to gorge ourselves on. Well that's fine for the X-men -- all X-Men all the time. That must make them feel like a pretty darn welcome bunch of outcasts. But what about the other groups? Where are their movies? What other groups, you ask?<br />
My point exactly!<br />
Time for some schooling. Let's go right through the alphabet, at least the relevant letters. The letters that don't even get a bunch of loser super heroes ... well, we'll deal with their issues in a different post. Sorry, letter "L"! Go drown your trouble with "S" "T" and "W".<br />
So first of all, you have the tediously religious <strong>A-Men</strong>.<br />
<strong>Why they're outcasts</strong>: Who wants a group of heroes who have to pray before every fight and seek compassion for the super villains! Mongo the Living Firestorm is trying to burn down Manhattan! Stop him now! Forgive him later. And put away that collection plate! Mongo doesn't carry cash. Sheeesh.<br />
Then there are the sad <strong>B-Men</strong><br />
<strong>Why they're outcasts: </strong>So many reasons. Cell phone tower radiation kills them, no one understands how they can fly, everyone mistakes them for wasps (who don't give a shit -- take a lesson from those wasps, B-Men!) and though you may catch more flies with honey than vinegar, honey doesn't really help when you're going up against Magneto. A sweet, stcky Magneto is just a more irritable Magneto. Still Magneto, sorry.<br />
Who next? The sexually obsessed<strong> C-Men</strong><br />
<strong>Why they're outcasts</strong>: Because they spend all day trolling for internet porn when they're supposed to be saving the world. Hello! Sign off and get busy!<br />
Make way for the horrific <strong>D-Men</strong>.<br />
<strong>Why they're outcasts:</strong> What can I say. No one likes demons. They're scary. And tossed-off quips like "What's wrong with destroying the world, anyway? Will there be torture and stuff?" don't help matters!<br />
And how about the pushy self imprtant <strong>G-Men?</strong><br />
<strong>Why they're outcasts</strong>: Drunk FBI agents in stupid Halloween costumes? You tell me.<br />
Then you have the geeky <strong>i-Men.</strong><br />
<strong>Why they're outcasts</strong>: Bad priorities. They'd rather argue about the 5G version of their powers than go out an use the 4g version and get the job done. Running away from a villain whining "We need upgrades!" doesn't make you a good role model. And how about that poor shlep they to didn't even bother to save because "He was a PC" and not only that -- "Aol e-mail? Let him die." Bad attitude, iMen.<br />
Who's next? The hilariously irrelevant <strong>J-Men.</strong><br />
<strong>Why they're outcasts</strong>: When your only super power is crossing crowded streets against a red light, you're just going to annoy people. And get lots of tickets.<br />
The lame pathetic <strong>K-Men?</strong><br />
<strong>Why they're outcasts</strong>: They agree to everything. They started out as the chirpy optimistic <strong>OK-Men</strong>, but now it's just a slap-happy gum-chewing "Kay!" "I'm going to take over the world and reduce all you puny humans to slavery!"<br />
"Kay!"<br />
Just say no, K-Men.<br />
Who else ... the eerie, prognosticating <strong>O-Men.</strong><br />
<strong>Why they're outcasts</strong>: No one wants to hear it! "Magneto is going to destroy the city!" Care to DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT, buddy?!" <br />
"And afterward, even worse mutants will trample the wreckage. And eat the suriviors." <br />
Thanks for the heads up, Cassandra.<br />
But they're better than the disgusting <strong>P-Men</strong><br />
<strong>Why they're outcasts</strong>: Why do you think?! They piss everywhere! Not just the shower, not just the pool. Everuwhere.How does that help anything? Some of these creepy villains actually like being pissed on. Here's a clue: don't charge after "Golden Showers Man" and expect to make any headway. <br />
Then, we have the dutiful <strong>Q-Men</strong> and their tiresime sycophants, the <strong>U-Men</strong><br />
<strong>Why they're outcasts</strong>: You don't wait on line to attack a supervillain! You just go for it. They're not taking a number to destroy the city. "Ah, 29? I'll be here forever! If there's any city left after Mole Man and Elecrtro get through with it. Good thing I brought a book to read." And does every single one of you need to have a mindless toady <strong>U-Man</strong> standing behind you? That doesn't help matters. "I go where my Q-man goes. I'm having what Q-man 's having." Get a life! Take a trip on Qantas airlines! That sould be a nice wake-up call.<br />
Now, the <strong>U-Men</strong><br />
<strong>Why they're outcasts</strong>: They pass the buck. They say "we delegate" but that's crazy talk. Giant evil creatures are turning the city to ice ... and the superhero asks me to pitch in? Are you kidding? Get off the phone, stop texting, put down the Latte and start SAVING THE WORLD. You don't have to ask your Q-Man for permission! Grow up.<br />
Finally we come to the dreamy intellectual <strong>Y-Men</strong><br />
<strong>Why they're outcasts</strong>: They think too much! We say, "The Vanisher and the Blob have teamed up with Unus the Untouchable and thr Shadow King! They want to take over thhe world!" You're supposed to say "We got this," or "On it." or "Y-Men awayy!"or something. Not "What do we speak of when we speak of the world? Is it merely the physical world? Or is it the aggregate of human culture we are discussing? Even if it's both, would saving it be a necrssary good? And what do we mean by the term "good" ?"<br />
Jesus Christ on the crapper! Just shut up and save the world! This world! The one with no God where only your authentic actions matter. Authenticv actions like, oh, I don't know ... saving the world, for instance! Don't ask yourself "What would Sartre do?" He'd get drunk and write an unreadable essay! In French! THAT WOULD NOT HELP. <br />
Last and least, the negligible<strong> Z-Men</strong><br />
<strong>Why they're outcasts</strong>: They just mope about always coming last. "Since when did the world have to do EVERYTHING in alphebetical order? Huh?" They gripe about standing for sleep "We're the banner boys for the narcoelptics! Yay." and standing for "Zebra" in every stupid alphabet book. "We hate zebras. They're just horses with accessories." Some evil mutant attacks they're like -- ask any of the other Letter-men. <br />
Dangerous battles -- the one place where it's good to come last. Also, walking through minefields.<br />
So there you are Hollywood. The full inventory of absurd super-heroes.<br />
Get busy! You've got a lot of movies to make.<br />
Axelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09627668511171741211noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18430290.post-39823310803306896702015-03-10T12:38:00.002-07:002015-03-10T12:38:46.982-07:00Attrition<img alt="obit" hspace="5px" id="cid_8353349" src="http://open.salon.com/files/obit1400551687.jpg" width="285" /><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">A friend of mine died last Saturday. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">This won’t be an obituary; I’m not qualified to write one. I never knew his whole life story, just the part of it that touched my own. But Ken Cross had a big place in that life and his death leaves a big hole. He came to Nantucket in 1987, bought a house in Wauwinet with his partner Joan Barr, flipped it and then rode the big ground swells of the real estate boom for the next decade, Ken painting and Joan decorating mansions and cottages, selling them and moving on. His daughter Meredith came to the island a few years ago to assemble a photograph album of all the projects they’d worked on here. It was quite a task. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">They changed the island during their stay. Many people believe that Joan Barr introduced bead-board and teak countertops to the interior design vocabulary of the island; and Ken introduced a new kind of house-painting: real world, New Jersey production painting. Wags referred to him as “Earl Sheib” after the cut rate car painting maven. There was more fear than contempt in those remarks. Ken underbid the established class of old school contractors by as much as two thirds, painting a house inside and out for twenty thousand dollars when the next higher bid was sixty. How was that possible? I learned first-hand, working for him on and off over the next ten years. He taught me to use an airless spray gun, and I worked with him on the first house we did, stuffing outlets and lighting holes with newspaper, stretching plastic over the windows, opening and pouring out the 5-gallon buckets of latex. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">In that first day we used seven “fives” of Ben Moore Wall Satin thirty five gallons of paint. When we were done, the closets and ceilings were finished and the trim and doors were primed -- latex penetrates wood just fine when it’s hitting the surface at three thousand force pounds per square inch. It was exhilarating. Cleaning up afterward, he said, “Pretty soon I’m going to be able to leave you here in the morning and pick you up in the afternoon with the whole house sprayed and the machine taken apart and cleaned out with thinner in the lines.” I thought he was crazy; I had trouble filling a fountain pen. But he was right. Ken was right about a lot of things. He was one of the toughest, most shrewd and practical men I’ve ever met. I didn’t learn how to paint from him really, except for the spraying and occasional tips, like rolling ceilings with yourself as the base of a pendulum, or dipping the putty knife in thinner when glazing windows. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">No, what I learned from Ken was how to run a job, and in many crucial ways, how to run a life.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">I remember, we were painting a billionaire’s house on Washing Pond Road, working behind Bruce Killen’s crew. I was alone in the house one afternoon when the phone rang. It was the owner, an affable gent calling from somewhere in Europe, curious about our progress. I told him everything was going fine, that the English specialist was starting to sponge paint the bedrooms. Things like that. I thought I handled myself pretty well, and couldn’t wait to tell Ken about the phone call.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">He was furious.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">“You NEVER tell anyone my business! I don’t want this guy knowing I hired some English punk to sponge paint his bedroom! I want him to think I could finish this job if everyone who worked for me died tomorrow! Think about it this way. Nothing you say can improve the way this guy thinks of me. You can leave him thinking of me the same way or thinking worse – that’s all. So you say nothing. No! You say, ‘I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Ken about that’ Let’s try it! Is this kitchen finished?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Ken about that.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">“How do the colors look in the children’s suite?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask ken about that.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">“And your girlfriend – she good in bed?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Ken about that.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">We were both laughing by then. There was a level of insane mischief he was capable of, and he could always laugh at himself, which is rare. “You’re a 40-year-fourth grader,” Bill Dowling told him once. Ken roared with laughter: “It’s only funny because it’s true!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">The lesson of that day on Washing Pond Road stuck with me, though. I’ve tried to play my cards closer to the vest since then, keeping customers on a need-to-know basis. Whenever I manage to do it, things go well; when I talk too much, things go wrong. But Ken always enjoyed disasters, even as they were happening. How many times was I going to have to tell the story of stepping into the five gallon paint bucket for a group of his rowdy friends? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">No more times, now. I never thought I’d feel bad about that.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Ken taught me how the different parts of a job connect with each other, and impact each other. I remember after some minor disaster (a paint spill; a spatter of white oil paint on a faux-painted wall), hearing the all-too familiar “What am I going to do? I can’t fix this!”and telling him how I could clean it up and him charging back at me: “That’s not the point! You’re cleaning your mess, not painting what you’re supposed to be painting, so someone else has to drop what they’re doing to pick up the slack, and then another guy has to do what <em>he</em> was doing and pretty soon no one’s doing anything they were supposed to do and I’m losing my shirt on this job!” Once he calculated on the fly how much time and money he was losing with a six man crew taking a twenty minute coffee break six times a week. It was scary.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">But he was also generous. He came back from a vacation and gave me an extra thousand dollars (it was just around Christmas) for “carrying the ball” on the job while he was gone. And who could forget the end-of-project battle cry, “You push, I pay.” And he did.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">He fired me twice – both times deserved. I walked off the job on my own finally; but we always wound up working together again. We understood each other. I still have his voice in my head when I’m working (“Push that latex! Throw a good coat on there! Square it off! Flood that hole! Caulk it with paint! Float a good coat on there. Bully that roller! We’ll just face it off for the next coat --you agree?”) After he moved to Florida I got calls from him at random intervals, usually with a Hollywood question. from some bar in Naples “Ryan O’Neal’s kid – the one in paper Moon – who married what his name, the tennis player?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Tatum.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Tatum! Tatum O’Neal. Great! I knew you’d know.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">It was always good to hear from him. I went down to Naples for a couple of weeks a few years ago, and it was just like old times, working Sunday “To get a jump on Monday, Yah?”, going out to dinner and regaling a new group of friends with our crazy exploits. I always thought there’d be more of them. Ken seemed immortal, a jolly sharp eyed juggernaut. But cancer found him and he took himself out. That was typical of Ken: he wasn’t going to give himself up to the hospitals and hospices, the chemo and the commiseration. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">He was never much for being helpless.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">I just wish he’d called first, with one more joke, one more job, one more Hollywood question. I wish the people I know now, who know him only through my version of him (“What happened?! No way in the world this takes so long! Did you go to town? The upstairs is done, yah?”) could meet the real person, the one who took my side when I was getting divorced, snooping my ex-wife’s house so he could tell me triumphantly “You’re the slob? She’s still got that mountain of laundry in the basement!” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">But he appreciated her, too. And he never let me get away with my griping. “At least she feeds those kids real food,” he snapped at me once, after I confessed to one more take-out pizza dinner. And when I complained about their mom having full custody, he just laughed. “Are you kidding me? That’s the way it should be! When was the last time you made anyone a Halloween costume?” He nailed it, as usual. And he was a brilliant physical mimic; no one who watched his impression of a certain crew-member having a leisurely smoke as she daubed the paint onto a window sash, or his classic hip-slapping hapless Nantucket painter doing the “Where’s my putty knife” dance, could never watch the real thing again without a smile.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Ken was the one who would always keep a secret, pick up the tab, make a loan and enjoy a laugh – at his own expense, or mine. Well, that's all over now. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">But I’ll always his have voice in my head, and it will always come out at odd moments and make some new set of strangers laugh. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing. It may be the only kind of immortality we get.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Better than being forgotten – you agree?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Yeah, Ken. I definitely agree.</span></div>
Axelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09627668511171741211noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18430290.post-76031612161264696392015-03-10T12:37:00.002-07:002015-03-10T12:37:26.623-07:00In Storage<img alt="storage" hspace="5px" id="cid_8353152" src="http://open.salon.com/files/storage1400335950.jpg" width="285" /><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The twenty-by-fourteen storage locker holds the last of my mother’s itinerant belongings. They accompanied her from her house in Connecticut to her apartment in Los Angeles and then up to Grass Valley when she remarried in her sixties. After her husband’s death these nomadic lamps and file boxes, books and cassette tapes, the blue silk Bergere armchair with its faithful ottoman sidekick, followed her to Sacramento, and then to Long Beach when she checked into the assisted living facility there. My son drove them to Nantucket when we moved her here, and she visited them often on nostalgic field trips from the Island Home. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">They always seemed glad to see her, the dusty old books (Archie and Mehitabel, <em>Acres and Pains</em> ), the folders full of her working notes on pronunciation and grammar and public speaking, her files of my letters, and my brother’s Camp Killooleet progress reports written by John Seeger in the 1960s, praising Peter’s and skills at third base, his progress in canoeing and riflery, his helpful leadership on overnight hikes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The tables stand quietly, the bookshelves sag a little. New members of the fraternity – a deluxe walker that didn’t fit through the door of her new bathroom, the wheelchair that proved redundant among all the others at the Island Home – lean against the side wall uneasily, next the rolled bamboo screen donated by my ex-wife, which we used to separate the living room from the dining room of our small apartment when we set up a bed for Mom during the few months when she lived with us. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">We often spoke of taking the two beige metal file cabinets to her room at the Home, so she could restart her business, consulting on communications, helping foreigners lose their accents and speak standard English. It never happened, of course; at ninety, she didn’t have the strength to begin again and her small shared room would never have worked as an office. She couldn’t even use the computer any more. Parkinson’s had effectively scrambled her old manual dexterity. So the files remained in storage, and we dropped in on them occasionally. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Then she died, and now her ashes sit in my front hall closet, due to be scattered into the East River near where I grew up in Manhattan, but going nowhere, settling in among the old storm windows and garden tools and plastic tubs of my own papers for the long haul, like a squatter in an abandoned building. I’m the landlord who can’t send out the eviction notice.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">At least I’m not paying rent for the ashes: the storage fees run two hundred and thirty six dollars a month. It’s been more than a year since she died, and so far I’ve paid more than $3,600 to maintain a home for this orphaned tribe. I toy with the idea of hiring a moving company to clear the space out and cart it all to the dump. It would probably cost less than a month’s rent. I think of those chilly, climate controlled subterranean corridors, the hospital-sized elevator, the awful florescent lights (they follow you, turning on and off as you move through the labyrinth), the canned classic rock (Mom would have preferred Mozart) piped quietly above the polished cement floors, , and I realize that I actually hate the place. Yet I keep going back, to pull a file or leaf through a book, and strategize the endgame. It would only take a day or two, really. I don’t need to pay anyone: my friend has already volunteered his giant Econoline van for the job.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">But I can’t do it. Not yet.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Instead I keep coming back, to touch the last physical manifestation of my mother’s spirit clinging to the vacated world. I pay every month and I’ll keep on paying until I can finally sever these last ties. When I do it, I’ll probably fly to New York and scatter her ashes on the same day, in the same grand gesture of letting things come to an end. It will be a proud afternoon, a last harrowing initiation ritual of adulthood, standing free, above the brown, momentarily white-speckled water of the East River, listening to the cars rush by below me on the FDR Drive. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">It sounds good, but I’m determined to put it off for a long as possible. Two hundred and thirty dollars a month seems a small price to pay for this proud cowardly procrastination. Even the word “scatter” chills me. I don’t want to scatter my mother. I want to clutch her to my chest and never let go.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">So I write another check and mail it in wondering: how many of the sad-eyed shuffling men and women I pass in the barricaded halls are just like me, poised and paralyzed at the edge of same abyss? And I see that this is a brilliant racket, storing these fragments of a life against the finality of loss, better than leasing space to the gallery owner to stock his pictures, or to the man with the slot next door, to shelter his cases of French red wine. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The pictures will be sold, the wine opened and shared.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">My mother is there to stay.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span>Axelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09627668511171741211noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18430290.post-73226335576740146212015-03-10T12:35:00.004-07:002015-03-10T12:35:45.623-07:00The Fountain of Youth<img alt="fountain" hspace="5px" id="cid_8341070" src="http://open.salon.com/files/fountain1388345230.jpg" width="285" /><br />
This is it! I found it! The fabled Fountain of Youth! Long sung by bards and visionaries from Herodotus to Prester John, prized by Ponce de Leon ... but never glimpsed by modern man ... Until today!<br />
That's the good news. The bad news takes the form of two small metal placques on the stone-work of the fountain's base. <br />
One says "Patent 23461, Novardis Corp. 2012".<br />
The other one says:<br />
"Possible side effects may include migraine headache, cramps, peptic ulcers, hysterical blindness, skin rash, painful urination, night sweats, renal failure, blood clots, paralysis, nausea, projectile vomit, hair loss, amd suicidal thoughts or actions."<br />
It also said, "Continued on next placque".<br />
But I didn't have the heart to read it.Axelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09627668511171741211noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18430290.post-45463002517552235912015-03-10T12:33:00.000-07:002015-03-10T12:33:47.352-07:00From Hogwarts to Brakebills: My J.K. Rowling Problem<div style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">As most people know by now, J.K. Rowling recently published a mystery novel, under the pseudonym John Galbraith. Like roughly half a million other people, I bought <em>The Cuckoo’s Calling </em>as soon as the ruse went public. I read the first hundred pages, and that’s where I suspect I parted company with the rest of the crowd. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">People often say they “couldn’t put down” some bestseller they’re reading. I experience the insidious reverse: I enjoy some book while I’m reading it, and indeed if I could somehow contrive to get through the thing in one sitting, I’d happily add a notch to my kindle. The problem comes when I set the book aside. Some novels are stubbornly difficult to pick up again, and Rowling falls into this category for me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> Here I should admit that I stopped reading the Harry Potter books halfway through final installment, the final Voldemort confrontation and many other thrilling passages and set pieces still ahead of me. That seems crazy, I know. After nearly 4000 pages struggling with Harry and the gang through so many terms at Hogwarts, so many potions masters, so much mischief from the Ministry of Magic, so many brushes with the Dementors, so many hi-jinks from so many house-elves, how could I desert them in their final and most desperate hour?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Easy. I got bored.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The same thing happened, much more quickly, with Rowling’s mainstream novel of small town English politics, <em>The Casual Vacancy</em>. Call me foolish, or simply a loyal fan in the throes of denial, but it wasn’t until I gave up on <em>The Cuckoo’s Calling </em>that I was forced to admit that something was seriously askew.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The exact way it happened gave me a hint at the nature of the problem. I had recently started re-reading Lev Grossman’s far less popular fantasies. No knock on Grossman -- what isn’t far less popular than Harry Potter? Potable water and potato chips come to mind, but that’s about it. Anyway, Grossman is writing a trilogy, and the first two books are called <em>The Magicians</em> and <em>The Magician King. </em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> With volume two in my kindle, I had shifted to it, away from Rowling’s mystery, just before giving up on reading altogether for the night and going to sleep. The next morning I opened my e-reader to what I assumed would be <em>The Cuckoo’s Calling</em>. I felt a faint, almost ineffable shiver of reluctance. No matter: I was determined to pursue the investigations of Rowling’s hero, Cormoran Strike, using some portion of that crippled veteran’s stubborn discipline to get the job done. I would track him relentlessly into the hidden precincts of narrative bliss! Defeat was not an option! Morning would give me a new grip on the story. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">I’m reasonably alert after my first cup of coffee.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> Much to my surprise, when I opened the e-book, I was faced with a page of <em>The Magician King</em>. The relief was palpable. This is what I saw. I know it’s drastically out of context, hundreds of pages into the second book of a series, But Penny is an old friend of Quentin Coldwater, the titular Magician King, dating back to their days when they were both students at Brakebills College of Magical Pedagogy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> “Did you ever wonder,” Penny said, “where magic comes from?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> “Yes, Penny,” Quentin said dutifully. “I did wonder about that.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> “Henry had a theory, He told me about it when we were at Brakebills.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> He meant Dean Fogg. Penny only ever referred to the Brakebills faculty by their first names, to shown he thought of himself their equal.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> “It seemed wrong to him that humans should have access to magic. Or not wrong, but strange. It didn’t make sense. He thought it was too good to be true. As magicians we were taking advantage of some kind of cosmic loop-hole to wield power that by rights we were never meant to have. The inmates had found the key to the asylum, and we were running amok in the pharmacy. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> “Or think of the universe as a vast computer. We are end-users who have gained admin-level access to the system, and are manipulating it without authorization. Henry has a whimsical mind. He isn’t a rigorous theoretical theorist by any means, but he does have moments of insight. This was one of them.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> This is not the kind of question Rowling cares about. Grossman’s characters ponder the world and their position in it, in ways that the wizards and muggles and mudbloods never do. To be fair, most of Rowling’s readers probably don’t want them to. They want their story-telling straight and undiluted: no fancy cocktails with the bitters and egg-white foam of irony and humor. Just one shot glass of story after another: what happens next, what happens next, what happens next?, until they’re passed out on the floor.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> I tell people that Lev Grossman’s books are a combination of Harry Potter and <em>Bright Lights, Big City. </em>His magicians are college-age, hip, self-aware, snide and funny. They’ve read Rowling (and laugh at the way her wizards need wands); they’ve read C.S. Lewis, too – as well as Christopher Plover, author of the </span><a href="http://www.emberstomb.com/">Fillory and Further</a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> tetrology. This last set of books, chronicling the adventures of the five Chatwin children in a Narnia-like fantasy realm, have been the primary literary obsession of Quentin Coldwater, the hero of the Magicians books, since he first learned how to read.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%;">
</div>
<div style="line-height: 200%;">
<img alt="mag king" src="http://open.salon.com/files/mag_king1386431704.jpg" hspace="5px" id="cid_8337979" style="line-height: 18px;" width="285" /> </div>
<div style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> The truth of the matter at first appears to be every reader’s dream: Fillory is real, the Chatwin children really went there, and you can, too. That’s what Quentin discovers, along with some considerably darker revelations. Though the Chatwin kids were booted out of their fantastical utopia at the end of every adventure by the twin rams Ember and Umber, who rule over the magic kingdom, in reality the oldest boy Martin contrived to stay on, becoming a horrific, corrupted – and immensely powerful -- Beast in the process. Quentin and his fellow-graduates eventually face off with Martin, as the Hogwarts crew finally have their showdown with Voldemort. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">But for the Brakebills crew that battle is really just the beginning, the climax of the first novel, with many more adventures to come. Quentin and his three friends become the Kings and Queens of Fillory by the start of the second book, and as one might expect of real people, the endless luxury, delicious food and vast straight boulevards of leisure time soon begin to pall on them. At this moment a real crisis threatens the magical world. The gods or godlike creatures who actually run things have discovered that humans have been using magic. As the ever-irksome Penny explains, “They’re going to close whatever loop hole they’ve left open that lets us use magic. When they’re done it will go dead, not just here but everywhere, in every world … most worlds will simply lose magic. I think Fillory may fall apart and cease to exist entirely.” </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">But there’s a “back door” written into the software of this system, a way to “let magic back out into the universe”. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">It requires finding seven keys, and that requires a full scale, all-hands-on-deck quest, just the sort of authentic adventure, with the highest possible stakes, that Quentin and his friends, and of course the reader, have been longing for. The books have featured other journeys – the trip to Brakebills South, with Quentin’s whole class transformed into geese for the migration; the perilous voyage from that outpost to the South Pole using only the spells they’d learned. Then there was that first trip to Fillory, stalking Martin Chatwin and finally finding him in Ember’s tomb, a maze of catacombs under the Nameless Mountains.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<img alt="fillory" src="http://open.salon.com/files/fillory1386431753.jpg" hspace="5px" id="cid_8337980" style="line-height: 18px;" width="285" /> </div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">But this new quest relates directly to a very different hunt, one undertaken by Julia Wicker, Quentin’s high school crush. She was also invited to apply to Brakebills, but she didn’t get in. Most rejects take the whole experience as a kind of dream and forget about it, a specialized amnesia helped along with spells from the faculty of school itself. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">But Julia remembers. She knows magic is real and starts to teach herself – finding old books, and weird fragmets of spells on-line, Finally, moving through hidden safehouses and acquiring the tattoo stars that credential her progress, she discovers an elite group of self-taught underground magicians. It is their combined efforts to penetrate the deeper world of magic that alerts the gods to the humans trespassing in their world. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">They caused the crisis. now Julia has to help solve it.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The adventure ends on a beach at the farthest edge of the world, by a wall with a door and seven keyholes. The triumph is a bittersweet one for Quentin:</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-left: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">This was the triumph, People would tell this story forever. Though they might leave out how melancholy the twilit beach seemed, like all beaches in the early evening, when the fun is over.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">This is what I get from Grossman that I find so lacking in J.K.Rowling – the rueful adult point of view, that irony-laced realism. Here is Quentin talking about the mechanics of spells and incantations, with a gentle sideswipe at the students of Hogwarts:</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-left: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">One thing had always confused Quentin about the magic he read about in books: it never seemed especially hard to do. There were lots of furrowed brows and thick books </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">and long white beards and whatnot, but when it came right down to it, you memorize </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">the incantation – or you just read it off the page if that was too much trouble – you </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">collected the herbs, waved the wand, rubbed the lamp, mixed the potion, said the words –</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">and just like the forces of the beyond did your bidding. It was like making salad </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">dressing or driving stick or assembling Ikea furniture – just another skill you could learn. It took some time and effort, but compared to doing calculus, say, or playing the oboe –</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">well there was just no comparison. Any idiot could do magic.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-left: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Quentin had been perversely relieved when he learned there was more to it than that.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-left: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">And of course, all of this ultimately comes from Lev Grossman himself. Beyond the characters and the plot of these books, the unique playful inquisitive sharp-witted mind of their author sparkles. You want to meet Grossman as you move through these clever, truth-spiked fables, and in fact you do meet him. To some extent this is true of all authors, apart from the step-by-step machinsts of the Hardy Boys or the Harlequin Press. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">But that’s where the harsh judgment intrudes. Some people are just more interesting than others, and the ability to construct a suspense-filled plot doesn’t indicate much about you. A plot is like a bannister or a pleated dress: the skill required to construct them doesn’t guarantee a lively mind or a scintillating dinner companion. Or a book that stays with you after the last page is closed.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Rowling is in many ways a wonderful story teller, but she cannot give you the greater wonder of the way the story is told. And I find, these days, that’s all I really care about. I root for Harry Potter and the gang but I care about Quentin Coldwater, and I cared about him from the first lines of the first book: </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Quentin did a magic trick. Nobody noticed.” </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Harry Potter is done and I think even Rowling allowed herself a sigh of relief when she reached the end. Ultimately, Harry was a well-intentioned bore. He could never have had subversive but entirely reasonable thoughts like these about Hogwarts:</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-left: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Quentin’s mind spun.Maybe he should ask to see a brochure. And no one had said anything about tuition yet. And gift horses and all that notwithstanding, how much did he know about this place? Suppose it really was a school for magic. Was it any good? What if he’d stumbled onto some third tier magic college by accident? He had to think practically. He didn’t want to be committing himself to some community college of sorcery …</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">Well, Brakebills turned out to be first rate, and so did the books. As for Quentin, he’ll be back next year, in </span><em style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">The Magician’s Land, </em><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">and I </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">for one can’t wait to see him.</span></div>
Axelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09627668511171741211noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18430290.post-918528503881211242013-09-18T11:59:00.003-07:002013-09-18T11:59:52.524-07:00Nantucket Sawbuck excerpt<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6JNYKM0WaaVxLIDJAUCrT18-iTo2QdBoZ76qiaDwXINNgJKqob5WP5gnZFT3PK2YgzJQsW6s6B7ebg5t49-V4Xen3AErj8IFEWxZpX3rdl8nB5P7TNTkwKlL6X8rzgHfLBgjnqw/s1600/Nantucket_FrontCover_+jt+final.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6JNYKM0WaaVxLIDJAUCrT18-iTo2QdBoZ76qiaDwXINNgJKqob5WP5gnZFT3PK2YgzJQsW6s6B7ebg5t49-V4Xen3AErj8IFEWxZpX3rdl8nB5P7TNTkwKlL6X8rzgHfLBgjnqw/s320/Nantucket_FrontCover_+jt+final.jpg" width="207" /></a></div>
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<i>By a diabolical sequence of accidents and unforeseen circumstances, Mike Henderson's desperate last-minute trip from Nantucket to New York City, undertaken to save his marriage, winds up making him the one suspect in a major murder investigation with an obvious motive, great opportunity -- and no alibi. He winds up in jail, desperately trying to clear his name, looking at the possibility of life in prison ... but he'd still probably say the trip was more than worthwhile.</i><br />
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">Mike Henderson arrived in <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">New York</st1:place></st1:state> with the first blizzard of the
season. He rode behind the plow into the city from </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">LaGuardia. The snow was
blowing horizontal and the wind </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">whined like a table saw. Mike's flight had
almost been </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">forced
back to <st1:place w:st="on">Nantucket</st1:place> and the airport had closed a
few minutes after they were on the ground.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">Mike sat in the back of the cab, trying to
work the tension out of his hands, staring out the window at the whitened
industrial outskirts of the city. "Clean it up with paint," his first
boss had always said: no scrubbing or sanding, just a heavy layer of latex.
"Don't make it </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">right
- make it white." That's what <st1:place w:st="on">Queens</st1:place>
looked like this </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">morning:
filth and garbage covered over with pristine </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">crystal. The snow itself would be filthy
enough soon.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">He had only one chance here and he had
almost blown it. If the </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">plane
had been turned back, if he had taken a later flight, </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">even half an hour later,
if this old Buick skidded on the </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.65pt;">icy Major Deegan ... and even if he made it
into the city, </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">there
was no guarantee -</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">He was thrown against the side of the cab as
the driver changed lanes abruptly.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">"Hey! Slow down," Mike called out,
through the pitted plexiglas barrier between them. But beyond street names and
monetary denominations, the driver seemed to speak no </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">English. He wore a turban
and spoke continuously </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">into
a headset. He never paused to listen. Was it some elaborate prayer? Was he
dictating a novel? Mike settled himself back in the seat again. It was
irrelevant. The driver knew what he was doing. Mike needed to think about</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> <span style="letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">what he was
going to say this morning. Everything depended </span><span style="letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">on that. And his mind was a blank.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">How
had things gotten this bad? They had wanted a baby </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">for years. Cindy had
gotten pregnant two years before, but she had miscarried. That tragedy had
revealed every weakness in their marriage. Cindy had been inconsolable and Mike
had been shut </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">out
completely. It was her tragedy, it had happened inside </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">of her. Mike had nothing
to do with it. He could only </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">intrude. When he tried to understand, he was
presumptuous. </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">When
he tried to cheer her up, he was shallow. When he </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">ignored her, as she seemed
to want, he was heartless.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">But it was even worse than that. Over time,
she had come to blame the way they lived. She hated the seasonal </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.3pt;">panic of house painting on <st1:place w:st="on">Nantucket</st1:place>, as everyone scurried </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">around looking for
interior work like woodland creatures trying to get inside for the winter, and
waited for final </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">payments
and groveled to imperious general contractors. The </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">constant stress had killed
the baby, that was Cindy's theory. It infuriated Mike. The doctors had no idea
what might have happened, the best minds in modern medicine were baffled; but
Cindy knew it was his fault. It was her body. </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">That made her the final authority.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">Mike didn't know; maybe she was right. The
stress </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">never
let up. Even now he could feel it, like pressure on a </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">bruise. Things had been
the same two years ago, they'd been going through some other crisis: a lawsuit,
a lost job, a late check. They always pulled through, Billy Delavane helped them make it through
until the phone call came, and it always did, and he went from no work to
hiring extra people overnight. But the constant uncertainty was </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">damaging.. Painters got
hypertension and ulcers and colitis </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">from it. They had nervous breakdowns. They
became </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">alcoholics.
Why not their wives?</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">But it was the same old bind: if he argued
he was a </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">bully,
if said nothing he was unsupportive, if he agreed he </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">was wimp. It was like
trying to sleep when he'd torn his rotator cuff, in college: there was no
comfortable </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.65pt;">position.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">Cindy had held her grudge, clutched it
tightly, like a </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">little
kid holding her bus fare, hurrying through a bad neighborhood. It had helped
for a while, but she couldn't keep it up forever. Something like normal life
resumed</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> <span style="letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">eventually. The wall stayed up, though. Mike couldn't reach </span><span style="letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">her. They still talked, but the talk
was more and more </span><span style="letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">superficial;
they made love, but less and less often. </span><span style="letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">Still, somehow she had gotten pregnant again. It was a </span><span style="letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">small miracle, really. Maybe it was
fate.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-top: .5pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">Mike had been in her doctor's office once,
when Cindy had </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">came
down with stomach flu on a visit to her parents. He remembered sitting for more
than an hour in the dark wood paneled waiting room. P.S. 6 got out for the day
sometime </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">during
the wait. He had listened to the shouts and laughter </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">of the newly liberated
kids across the street, loving the </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">sound, wanting kids of his own.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: .5in; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">Well,
that's why he was here today.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: 36.25pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">The
coffee shop on <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madison</st1:place></st1:city>
was still there, right across from the school. He pushed inside out of the snow
</span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">and found a table near a
window. He was going to have to be </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">here for a while. He should order breakfast.
But he </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">couldn't
eat. He ordered coffee instead. That </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">was a good default strategy: he could sit and sip for a while. He checked his
watch: <st1:time hour="8" minute="10" w:st="on">ten after eight</st1:time>.
Office hours </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">probably
didn't start until nine.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: .5pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">The waiter brought his order, with a visible
sigh. But </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">the
place was still uncrowded, so at least he wasn't taking </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">up a table where real
eaters and big tippers might be sitting. At least not yet. It was warm. He
pulled off his </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">coat
and took a sip of coffee. It was strong and hot and it</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> <span style="letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">went down
all right</span><span style="letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-top: .5pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: 36.25pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">A cab pulled up across the street: the office
nurse. The rest of the staff arrived over the next half hour. Mike drank two
more coffees. He </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">was
starting to get wired. He asked for the check. He didn't want any delays when
Cindy finally arrived. He watched the traffic, yellow taxis and buses half
obscured by the gusting snow. The windows were steaming over; he'd </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">be lucky to see her at
all.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .7pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .25pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: 36.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">Finally, he couldn't sit still any more. He
paid the </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">check,
left an extra five dollars tip, and walked out into </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">the blizzard, zipping up
his coat.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: .25pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: 36.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">Her cab pulled up ten minutes later, just as
he was considering going back inside. The light was green but it was about to
go red. He sprinted across Madison Avenue. </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">Cindy sensed the bulky figure moving toward
her and looked </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">up
blankly. He hit a patch of ice on the sidewalk and skidded into her. They
grabbed each other to keep from falling, an awkward little dance that ended
with him </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.5pt;">sitting
in the snow.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 37.2pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .25pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.55pt;">She
helped him up.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 1.2pt; margin-right: 21.1pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: 36.25pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">"Graceful as always," she said,
but with a smile to </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.55pt;">soften
the words.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: 37.45pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.55pt;">"Thanks."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: 36.25pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">They
stood holding each others' arms lightly, snow </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">blowing between them, traffic coursing
through the slush </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.55pt;">behind
them.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: 36.7pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">"What
are you doing here?," she asked finally.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 36.95pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .25pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">"Can
we go somewhere and talk?"</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 36.7pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .5pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">"I
have an appointment -- "</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: 36.7pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">"With
Doctor Mathias. I know. <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">47 East 82<sup>nd</sup>
Street</st1:address></st1:street>."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 36.95pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .25pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">"I
don't understand. How did you -- ?"</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: .5pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: 36.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">"I know what's going on, Cindy. I
figured it out. I'm not an idiot. And I know you."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 36.95pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .5pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: 0.25pt;">"Mike
— "</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 36.95pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .25pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">"Can
we go somewhere? Get out of the cold?"</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: 36.95pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: 0.15pt;">"Let's
just walk."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: 36.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">She
stuck her hands in her coat pockets and started </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">across <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madison</st1:place></st1:city>
towards <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">Fifth Avenue</st1:address></st1:street>.
Mike followed, looking around him at the heavy green copper-roofed old
buildings, </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">the
snow gathering on their ornamental stonework. These were think tanks now,
embassies, foundation headquarters. </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">But they had been residences once. They had
been built when </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">the
details of craftsmanship mattered and no expense was spared. The wealth they
represented made the <st1:place w:st="on">Nantucket</st1:place> trophy houses
look cheap and suburban by comparison. It was a different world, and Mike
couldn't </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">help
feeling it was a better one. It was solid at least,</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> <span style="letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">rooted in
generations of privilege and civic responsibility. It was actually the perfect
location for this dispute. It embodied tradition and history. It had its own </span><span style="letter-spacing: -0.55pt;">persuasions.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: 36.95pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">He
took Cindy's arm and began.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: .95pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: 36.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">"I was thinking about the last time we
were in the neighborhood. You were sick, we thought they were going to </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">take you to Lenox Hill. But
Dr. Mathias took care of you. I </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">remember sitting in the office, waiting,
thinking how much </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">I
wanted to have kids."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: 37.7pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">"That
was a long time ago."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 37.9pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .25pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">"No
it wasn't. It feels that way but it wasn't."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: 36.95pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">"Mike,
I'm going to be late if I don't -- "<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: 36.95pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Be
late, it doesn’t matter. He always keeps you waiting for an hour anyway.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: 36.95pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Not
today. This is important.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: 36.95pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I
know. But we have to talk.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“There’s
nothing to say. We’ve already said it all. I’m tired of talking. It just makes
things worse.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You
don’t have to say a word. Just listen. I was on to something back there. Let me
finish.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: 36.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">She
glanced at her watch. “Fine. What? What is it?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: 36.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Okay.
Good.” He took a breath, then launched. “That moment, sitting in the Doctor’s
office, listening to the kids getting out of school across the street … it changed
things<span style="letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">. </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">Sex felt different after
that. It seems like we spend our whole adult lives dodging pregnancy, fighting
against it, you know? Trying to slip a little pleasure past the reproduction
police. And all of a sudden we were trying to </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">conceive a child. Part of it was not using
birth control. </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">Just
being unencumbered, I guess. But it felt pure, like there was nothing between
us and the consequences of what we were doing. Like, the consequences were what
we were doing. The orgasm almost didn't matter. It was just the starter's gun.
You know? It was scary. But it was good. It </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">was like sky diving without a parachute,
except when we hit </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">the
ground we weren't going to die. Someone else was going </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">to be born."</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 21.1pt; margin-top: .25pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: 36.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">Cindy looked down. "Well, it didn't
work out that </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -1.7pt;">way.
"</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 36.95pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .25pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">"No.
I know that."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: 36.95pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: 0.2pt;">"I
wish you'd said some of this stuff then."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: .7pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: 36.25pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">"I tried to. But it was just a jumble.
I needed time </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">to
think about it."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: 37.2pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">"Maybe
you took too much."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: 37.2pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">“So
it’s too late?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Maybe it is. Things happen and then
they’ve happened and you can’t do anything about it you can’t change anything.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“This is nuts. You don’t believe this
shit. You’re just scared.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">“Yes
I am. Of course I am! How could I not be scared?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">“Cindy
-- ”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">“You’re
supposed to be helping with that. You’re supposed to make me feel safe.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">“Jesus
Christ! Why do you think I came down here?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">“</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I don’t know. Why did
you come here? I mean it. You flew down here in a blizzard, God knows how you
paid for the ticket, and you staked out the doctor’s office since God knows
when in the morning. You’re half frozen. For what? I really want to know.”</span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: 0.2pt;">He
stopped walking, took her hands, faced her down.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: 37.2pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">"I
want this baby, Cindy."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: 37.2pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">She
looked away, watching a Great Dane pulling a slim man on a taut leash. A woman
was coming around the corner with a pair of King Charles spaniels. The dogs
sniffed each </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">other,
the leashes tangled.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 37.2pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .25pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">"That's
not your decision ," Cindy said.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .25pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: 36.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">"Yes it is. Part of it is. That's what
you never understood. You still don't get it. This is happening to </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">both of us. Just like it
happened to both of us before. I lost a baby, too, Cindy."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 37.2pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .25pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: 0.25pt;">"Mike
— "</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: 37.2pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: 0.15pt;">"I
lost a baby, too." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: 0.15pt;">There
was a strange moment of stasis then. He could actually feel the words, the meaning
of the words, piercing her finally, penetrating her like a spear through a fish: a moment of anger replaced by sadness and then
guilt and then something else; something
he couldn’t name that contained all the other emotions and held a kind of
submission, an acceptance of the identity between them. Her expression was like sunlight on stone, shifting under
swift-moving clouds. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: 0.15pt;">But so
fast: it was just a couple of seconds, then she was in motion,</span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;"> flinging herself at him
in an impulsive hug, </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;"> knocking him back a step into a big car, its
make and model anonymous under a great loaf of snow. They held each </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">other tight through their
heavy coats. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">She
was crying.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 37.2pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .25pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">"I'm
sorry," she said. "I'm sorry."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 37.2pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .5pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">"Hey,
it's okay. I love you. Cindy - it's okay."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: .95pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">She pulled away and looked up at him, tears
glittering in her eyes, snow glittering in her hair.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: 37.2pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">"What
a pair of fuck-ups we are."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: .25pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: 36.25pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">He kissed her. "I know. But we'll stop.
We'll be </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">better.
We'll have to be better. We're going to be setting an example now."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: 36.95pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.55pt;">"Oh
God."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: 36.95pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">"We
can do it. Our parents did."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: 36.95pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">She
smiled. "Don't set the bar too low, Mike."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: .5pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: 36.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">They pushed off the car and walked on,
across <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">Fifth Avenue</st1:address></st1:street>,
past the museum and along the park wall.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .7pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .25pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: 36.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">"It doesn't matter about Mark
Toland," he said after a </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">while. <i>"</i>I<i> </i>deserved that. And so did you."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: 37.45pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">"Well,
I needed it, anyway."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 37.7pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .25pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">"As
long as it's over."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: 37.45pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">"It
barely began."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 37.45pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .25pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">"Good.
It balances things. It settles the score."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-top: .25pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: 37.45pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">"Not really. I didn't sleep with a
co-worker, or </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">make
you the subject of choice for every malicious gossip on the island. You never
had to stand making small talk with Mark Toland at a party."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 37.45pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .25pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">"No.
But it still hurt."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: 37.2pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">"Did
it really?"</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: 37.2pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">"Thinking
of you with that guy? Jesus."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: 37.2pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">"You
were jealous?"</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 37.2pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .25pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.55pt;">"Come
on."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 37.2pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .25pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">"Unbearably
jealous?"</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: 36.95pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">"Actually,
I found the whole thing strangely erotic."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: 37.2pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">She
punched his arm. "You're sick."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: .25pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: 36.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">They walked along quietly for another block.
The snow was coming down more heavily now, muffling their footsteps </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">and cutting them off from
the gauzy buildings across the </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">street and the Christmas card shadows of the park.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .25pt; margin-right: 22.1pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: 36.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">"There are just two things you have to
do for me," </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">Cindy
said as they crossed the transverse entrance at </span><st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.5pt;">Seventy-ninth
street</span></st1:address></st1:street><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.5pt;">.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 36.7pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .5pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.5pt;">"Tell
me."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-top: .5pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly; text-indent: 36.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">"First, just keep talking to me."
She grabbed a handful of his hair, shook it. "I want to know what's going
on in </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">there.
I know I've been shitty to you. I can be a jerk. But </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">just tell me so from now
on. Don't just nod and go off to work another seventeen hour day. Whenever some
painter's wife tells me her husband is on the job until nine every </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">night, all I can think is,
your marriage is in trouble, honey. If it wasn't, he'd be home. No one has to
work until </span><st1:time hour="9" minute="0" w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">nine o'clock</span></st1:time><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;"> every night, unless
they're on some corporate </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">fast track. And you're not."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -1.3pt;">"No.
"</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">"So come home early and talk to me. If
I take your </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">head
off, I'll make it up with sexual favors. I promise. At least until the baby
arrives."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.5pt;">"Fair enough," Mike said. </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">"What's the other
thing?"</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: 37.45pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">"It's
about Tanya Kriel."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">"What
about her?"</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 24.0pt; margin-left: 37.2pt; mso-line-height-rule: exactly;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.45pt;">Cindy
gave him her sweetest smile. ”Fire the bitch.”</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.4pt;">"Done," Mike said. "As soon as
we get home. But right </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.35pt;">now,
since this is the first time we've been off-island together in six months, I'd
like to take out for a fabulous breakfast, a tour of </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.1pt;">the new <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placetype w:st="on">Museum</st1:placetype> of <st1:placename w:st="on">Modern Art</st1:placename></st1:place>
and </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.05pt;">maybe
even an early movie before we fly back."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.05pt;">“Lunch at Papaya King?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.05pt;">“Absolutely. Five star all the way.”</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt;">She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him.
"Thanks, Mike," </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.05pt;">she said. "I mean it. Thanks for coming. It's the
best </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.3pt;">thing
anyone's done for me since ... I don't know. Since my </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.05pt;">Dad drove all the way up
to <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Maine</st1:place></st1:state> to
take me out of that </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.1pt;">horrible
outward bound summer camp. God, I was so happy to </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.05pt;">see that old Dodge Caravan
coming up the camp road. I </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.1pt;">started crying right on the spot. No, this was better
than </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.05pt;">that.
This may be the best thing ever."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.05pt;">"Throw in a plate of pesto scrambled
eggs, some great art and a drastically maudlin </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.1pt;">chick flick with all the popcorn you can eat,
and we may never top this."</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt;">"Just
wait eight months," she said.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.05pt;">Then she took his hand and they started east
through </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.1pt;">the
curtain of snow, toward breakfast and the rest of their </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.85pt;">day.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Axelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09627668511171741211noreply@blogger.com2