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Authors: Jack Womack

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"Your facts are slipperier than reality," I said. "And I'm
not that sensible."

"You've tried to give the impression you are," said Thatcher. "You're being as hard on me as you are on
yourself, hon. That's not fair to either of us. What kind of
heathern you think I am?" His face was angelic; his eyes,
moist as a calf's. "Just a question of putting a chokehold on
reality before it puts one on you. You got to try, 'cause if you
don't, then you deserve to get anything life throws on you."
He doodled on a pad as he spoke, marking out small circles
and then slashing them through with x's. "That's the
trouble people have when they're out on the edge. Stay out
there long enough, you're bound to get cut at some point."
He shook his head. "Most people can't bear the sight of
their own blood. But once you get used to your own you
don't mind anyone else's quite so much."

"There's no reason for any of it, Thatcher."

"Everyone has reasons, Joanna," said Bernard. "Every
reason imaginable."

"A little background first," said Thatcher. "What's the
rule of thumb interrogating those who won't give, Avi?"

"The thumbrule is that if the subject hesitates, the family
will be lost," Avi said, reciting with less elan than had
Lester's students. "If the family is absent, use their memory.
If the family is present, work with them physically. If the
subject is a wife, use the husband. A son, the mother. A
father, the daughter."

"Monday night a father with daughters broke," said
Thatcher. "One of the doctors spilled his guts, you might
say. Seems our man Jensen is taking the air at Montefiore,
up in the Bronx."

"What does he have to say for himself?"

"Ask the turkeys in the kitchen what they have to say for
themselves," Thatcher said, laughing. "He's more than
zombified, as it turns out. An irreversible coma. Doubt he's
much for idle chitchat at the moment. Truth cries when it
comes, all right. Now who do you think had him shipped
up there? Old second gunman himself."

"Gus-?"

"Got in a little far over his head this time," he said. "After
a while it must have affected his mind, having to keep new
realities straight all the time. Working in Cuba but doing for
America. Working in Mexico but doing for Cuba. Russia
and Libya and Italy and who knows where else. To this day
I don't think he knew who he was working for in Dallas,
and would he have been surprised ..."

"If he was even there," said Bernard, in a voice less direct
than usual.

"He was there all right," Thatcher said, reaching behind
him and patting his files. "I guess even you still have
trouble sometimes with cold, hard facts." He winked at me.
"In any event, it's to be expected he'd be prone to freelance
when the right offer came along. Wonder now what else he
got into we haven't found out about yet."

"The doctor told you Gus was involved and that's why
you had Avi shoot him?"

"You think I kill people just 'cause I like the sound they
make when they hit the ground?" he said, sighing. "Bernard, pick up on this. I'm going to get my throat so raw
jawin' if I'm not careful I won't be able to eat my turkey."

Though I hadn't noticed before, I became suddenly aware
that no one in the room but Lester would look into my eyes;
my wishful thinking made me think that perhaps they
could no longer bear to see what they saw reflected.

"We were told," Bernard said, "that the poison, while of
Caribbean origin as claimed, was introduced into Jensen's
system not long after Jensen arrived at Newark, more than
likely by means of a needle jabbed into his neck. The poison
was too dilute to have the preferred effect. Gus made a
boo-boo, to be pithy about it-"

"No doubt you've inferred that he was hired by Otsuka
for this?"

Thatcher's face lit up as if he were my father, and I'd told him I'd gotten all A's on my report card. "See how naturally
this comes to you once you get the hang of it?"

"I insisted that Gus be kept viable for prolonged interrogation, to uncover such facts as we could and to try as well a
new method the boys have been working on," Bernard said.
"As I knew I would be, I was overruled--

"We'd have never got anything out of him," Thatcher
said. "Nobody ever did."

Bernard shrugged. "Could have gone through Jake."

"True ..."

"Was Jake involved?" He couldn't have been, I realized;
he was still alive.

"Ain't no mud on Jake's shoes," said Thatcher. "Gus had
an eye for talent, I'll give him that."

"Even if Jake had been domesticated enough to participate in these shenanigans, there was no reason to involve
him. It was a one-to-one action. The fewer to know, the
better. As far as Jake knows, his teacher was killed in the
line of duty. It's good for role models to illustrate the
drawbacks as well as the benefits of a career."

"You knew about this Tuesday morning?" I asked Bernard.

"It's my job to know," he said. "Don't give me that look."
His stare suggested to me that he'd long before decided I
could never truly understand. "Gus's fatal error was trying
to drag the doctors into it after he screwed up. He was
apparently the one who conceived the brilliant idea of
having them forge the certificate. They carried out his wish,
signing that particular doctor's name, only later realizing
that she was in no condition to see to anyone's death but her
own."

"See what happens when you rush?" Thatcher said.

"If the intention was to kill Jensen," I said, "why didn't
Gus finish the job?"

"They wouldn't let him," said Bernard. "Isn't that won derful? That our doctors chose to abide by the Life Acts
astonishes me. They've never shown themselves averse to
circumventing these petty legalities in the past."

"Bernard," Thatcher interrupted, glancing at me, "that's
touchy. Get on with it."

"By that point the corpus was in their care, and had been
seen by too many. They had to do something. Afterward,
then, Jensen sped northward on the uptown express, leaving behind only an officially recorded and duly vouchsafed
death."

"Do you think Jensen actually said anything to Gus in the
car?" I asked, trying to ignore Thatcher's apparent concern.
"On their way over-?"

"Oh. 'Can you keep a secret?"' Bernard quoted, and
laughed. "It's rare to come across people who can sound so
much like a bad screenplay in such strained circumstance.
He said it, nonetheless. Jake slid open the divider when
Jensen collapsed, and he and the driver heard him say it."

"So what's the secret?" I asked. Neither answered. "Do
you know? Does it matter?"

"We're working on it," said Thatcher. "Obviously he was
ready to spill the beans to somebody. I'd like to think he
intended to do the right thing and tell me. He sure wasn't
working with Gus. Why would he have even brought it up,
whatever it was, if he had been-"

"All inferences and select facts do, however, point to
Otsuka's involvement," said Bernard. "We did trace the two
individuals mentioned on the note discovered."

"Once we ascertained it was Mystic, Connecticut that
was referred to." Thatcher reached over to shake Lester's
knee until Lester grimaced. Had I owned a pet I'd never
have allowed Thatcher to hold it.

"Didn't Gus search Jensen's apartment?" I asked.

"Police found the note at his sister's," said Thatcher.
"Even a blind hog roots up an acorn now and then. Avi's
investigating Jensen's apartment again tomorrow to see what might have been overlooked. He lived up on the
Concourse, didn't he?" Avi nodded. "I think it was his
grandmother's place. I guess it was cheap--

"You own the building, Thatcher," said Bernard. "It was
a perk."

"What about those two individuals you mentioned?" I
asked. "Where are they?"

Bernard coughed, and eyed his nails as he took his hand
from his mouth. "Shot while trying to escape, sadly ..."

"Both of them?" I asked. "In both countries?"

"That struck me as kind of odd myself ..." Thatcher
said.

"We're dealing with backwater elements in each port,"
said Bernard. "It's to be expected. Corrupt officials are like
cockroaches, you can't get rid of them."

"But we've made a firm connection. Just haven't discovered the exact scale of the operation yet-"

"How convenient that the facts correspond so well to the
theory," I said.

"Isn't it, though?" Thatcher, as ever, pronounced isn't as
idn't; certain speech patterns of his youth he deliberately
retained, that those who didn't know him might be lulled
into thinking that his intelligence was less than theirs. "I
had my hunches. You heard Otsuka the other day, Joanna.
Calling me a Nazi. Making fun of America. His talk was all
sugar when he wanted to sound sweet but you could smell
the vinegar underneath."

"It's evident now why he agreed so readily to that thirty
percent cut," said Bernard.

"It is?"

"Rule of the agreement is that operations already in
progress by one country won't be interfered with by the
other," said Thatcher. "Thanks to Jensen, they have an
operation in progress. So if we try busting it up in the usual
way they can cut the whole deal cold, and at this moment
that'd give 'em the edge. They've already transferred their bank accounts over to Europe and back home, isn't that
right?"

"And we can't take chances on losing access to those
scientists, now that they're in our grasp," said Bernard,
nodding in response to Thatcher's question. "Susie's flying
out to Los Angeles tomorrow to meet them, in fact, to be
assured that they come immediately under our supervision
as soon as their feet touch earth."

"It's obvious that Otsuka could have lived with the
compromises he made in order to get what he wanted-"

"Most people can," said Thatcher.

"Why couldn't you let him?"

"'Cause it's just as obvious who'd have been the next
target after Jensen," Thatcher said. "Strike before the iron
gets hot, I say. He popped Jensen before he could spill, but
he'd have known I'd've found out eventually. There's a
Judas in every operation. Shouldn't think he'd have risked
it.

"Luckily for our agreement," said Bernard, "Otsuka may
have been respected in his country, but there was no love
lost among his folk. The problem with living successfully
for so long is that after a time your enemies increase
geometrically rather than arithmetically. We exchanged the
traditional harsh words yesterday with his successors, and
the agreement remains solidly in effect."

"Why wouldn't it?" I asked. "No one was hurt but
Otsuka. You can't take your cut from underground activities, can you?"

"That's what we're looking into," said Thatcher.

"What are you going to do about it, then?"

"Hon, you're thinking like us now," he said, his smile so
irrepressible as it was irredeemable. "This is where you two
come in, truthfully. First, go up with Avi tomorrow to
Montefiore and pay your respects to Jensen--

"To bring flowers?" Lester asked. Thatcher stared at him as he'd once stared at me, ignoring the sass, seeing only an
evanescent fulfillment of every earthly wish.

"Gus may have been talking through his hat, saying
Jensen looked like he was thinking," said Thatcher. "But if
he is thinking, I'd like to know what about."

"If he is, I couldn't say, Mister Dryden," said Lester. "You
expect too much."

"Maybe he wants to get something off his chest besides
his respirator tubes," said Thatcher. "Joanna, you'll oversee
this new project solo. Strikes me you're getting damn good,
handling yourself in these situations."

"I can't, Thatcher," I said. "I won't."

"Oh, don't look at me like that," he said. "Lester, keep in
mind Jensen's not technically dead. I'm not saying I'd be
angry if you told me there was nothing you could do, but I
think you're underestimating yourself."

"We'll have to see," said Lester. "What else do you
want?"

"It's a funny old world," Thatcher said, leaning back,
stroking the arms of his chair as if they were his wife's, or
even mine. "All you can do to get out of it in one piece.
Events so often occur beyond the control of mortal man. No
one can predict where lightning'!! strike, can they?"

"Thatcher," said Bernard, "speak English."

"Say something happened to Japan."

"What something?"

"A natural occurrence?" asked Lester.

"What insurance companies usually call an act of God,
you could say."

"What are you talking about?" Bernard asked.

"It's been on the back burner. I've been theorizing."

"You can't be serious about what I think you mean-"

"Look at it scientifically," said Thatcher. "As I understand it, Japan's a volcanic mountain range rising out of the
sea, right in the middle of the earthquake belt. That so?"

"You want me to sink Japan?" Lester asked.

"You didn't hear me say that, did you?" he asked. Butter
wouldn't have melted in his heart. "Hell of a concept, isn't
it? Kinda get back at 'em for Pearl Harbor."

"You're losing it, Thatcher," said Bernard, brushing stray
hair toward the crown of his head, as if to keep his skull
warm. "I'm not hearing this. I'm not."

"Shit happens," said Thatcher. "Who'd lay the baby on
our doorstep?"

"Macaffrey couldn't bend a fork using both hands," said
Bernard. "He couldn't make dice move if he threw them.
Now you want him to perform exploratory surgery on the
eastern hemisphere? It'd be funny if I didn't understand
your intentions. Haven't you learned anything? We have to
get along with them, Thatcher-"

"Long as we've got Lester here, won't hurt to see what
might be done . . ."

"I'm not going to listen to this."

"You ever read that boilerplate in the agreement you
drew up? Either country can take over the other's business
affairs in the event of nationwide catastrophe. There's our
loophole-"

BOOK: Heathern
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