Officer Stillman stood up, turned, and looked right at me. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

For the first time, Hicker spoke. “Stillman,” he said, “shut the fuck up.”

“Sir?”

Hicker closed his eyes, maybe debating the consequences of revealing his feelings to a true believer. “I said that’s enough. You’ve made your point.”

Stillman glared at him, then backed down. “I’ll go watch outside.”

Hicker turned to Laura and me. “It’s not gonna be much longer. Want me to leave the TV on?”

“Sure,” I said. Hicker was quickly absorbed in the post-hanging special report on Fox. Audience members were being interviewed as they left the Kennedy Center. I heard someone describe it as “a great day for America, so tastefully done.” I rolled over on my side and faced Laura. “You’re doing great,” I told her.

“What are we going to do?” she asked. “What’s going to happen?”

I smiled, maybe just slightly more confidently than I felt. “Trust me.”

20

I looked at Laura and thought of Jenny. They were very different women. They would respect each other, but probably wouldn’t be friends. I was carrying Jenny with me. Several times every day, too often at the most inopportune times, she popped into my head, and I wondered what she was doing at exactly that moment. It was never good. Worrying about her was an emotion that served no useful purpose, so finally I used an old visualization I’d been taught during interrogation training: I envisioned an old-fashioned steel safe, the type with a big spinning lock, then balled up my fears, put them into that safe, and closed its door. That generally worked well, but this time I could see droplets of anxiety leaking from beneath the door.

One cup of coffee wasn’t nearly enough; I dozed, the image of two dangling bodies twisting slowly in a million mirrors pasted on the inside of my eyelids. I woke up when Lieutenant Carty returned about noon. “Those agents’ll be here soon,” he said.

He helped move me back into Mighty Chair. I let him give me more assistance than I actually needed—another way of making people feel good. I had just gotten comfortable when Corbin and Russell walked in. Rather than gray suits, they were in casual clothes, but both of them wore jackets that covered the weapons they would be carrying. Dick looked at me and grinned ugly. I couldn’t help myself. “Laura, look who’s here! Hey, buddy, good to see you standing upright.”

Corbin ignored me, handing his credentials to Carty. “And this is Agent Russell. I’m assuming your people did a good search?”

Carty glanced at the ID, then gave it back. “We brushed over them. They’re clean.” He got ready to leave. “You people going to need anything else from us?”

“Nope. That’d be it.”

“Okay.” He stopped at the door and looked at me. “Good luck,” he said.

Russell locked the door behind him, then looked at me. “Now go ahead and smile again, asshole.”