“If you think that isn’t a death sentence, you’re more naive than I thought.”

“I was with Nazir and Hashim in the warehouse. I have information the imam will want to know. I’ll tell him I’ve been in contact with Hashim ever since he set foot here. All of which is true.”

“And what if he decides you’re not worth the risk?”

“We’ve known all our lives that we’re more than we know. We can break free of the tribal beliefs handed down to us by fear. What we’ve been thrust into is mystical in design. But it doesn’t make it any less valid than the air we breathe, which we can’t see either but is measurable. This is measurable, too. I believe the imam will listen.”

Bruton touched her shoulder in a gesture of friendship. “And where is Julian in all this?”

“Making his way to a truth that has eluded him.”

89

89

Julian stood at the door to the Victorian era master bedroom his parents once shared. The housekeeper had kept the ornate curtains and damask bed sheets pristine, as if the appearance of cleanliness and order reflected reality. It didn’t.

The senator made his way up the main staircase to the master suites. He saw his son staring into the bedroom.

“Your mother said you were here. You can go in, it won’t bite.”

“You visited Jack Dean,” Julian said. “Did he know you’d had the same chance at all this that I have?”

“Yes. There was a time when we shared our lives.”

“I’d always wondered what it was that had terrified you when I was a boy. It terrified Mother, too. I understand that now.”

He walked into the bedroom.

“I remember coming in here when I was young. There weren’t many of those days, but there was love here once.”

Ledge stood at the threshold to the room.

“When I was in the catacombs,” Julian said, “I could feel you there with me. You had a longing for something out of reach.”

He faced his father. It’d been a long time since he had compassion for him.

“You had an experience like I did, and you turned away.”

The anguish Julian felt in the catacombs he saw now in his father’s eyes.

“There were others,” Ledge said.

“Who were they?”

“I don’t know.”

“Not Jack Dean?”

“He had the information, but that was all. He was a messenger.”

“Whose career you and Bruton killed.”

Julian felt the thrum of pain that emanated from his father.

“I’ve turned away from much, too.”

“But not this,” Ledge said.

“No. As much as I struggle with it, not this.”

Julian turned toward the door and saw his mother standing there. She didn’t have a drink in her hand.

“I see you found each other,” she said.

“Maybe,” Julian answered. “Maybe we’ll all find each other again.”

90

90