Heathern (27 page)

"Bernard," I said, "what's truth?"

"I lose track sometimes," he said, looking out the window. "What appears so simple at first can become so
complicated. Jensen was involved in a project. He intended
to go public about its nature."

"You and Susie are involved in this?"

He set his cup down, spilling coffee into his saucer.
"What sort of tricks did Macaffrey teach you-?"

"Call it a hunch. What project are you talking about?"

"You know as I do that were it not for the problem in
Long Island there'd be no need for the Army to be in New
York anymore. Each year they become more maladjusted
and more hardened toward the populace they've been paid
by Thatcher to protect-"

"This has to do with something?" I asked.

"With everything," he said, rubbing his eyes with his
hands. "It's so typical, isn't it, that for the past thirty years
each new President makes the ones who came before look
so much better, no matter what they've done? Even that
fool Charlie. By managing to get himself nailed up as he
did, his example convinced Susan that were our own
huddled masses allowed to breathe free they'd swim across
the river, march through the streets-carrying heads on
pikes for dramatic effect, undoubtedly-and, upon catch ing our employers, hang them by their feet, Mussolini-style.
Soon after we started working there, she told me that an
essential aspect of my job was to make certain that the
Army would remain in New York for so long as she was
alive. Precautions, she said."

"Hasn't the Army grown to appreciate its duties?"

They never imagined they'd have such a time of it. No
one in the Defense Department foresaw a local insurrection
turning into a prolonged guerrilla war going on just upstream from Washington. A living room war in the truest
sense. Army steps up their operations, the insurgents step
up theirs. Aerial bombardment has been ongoing over there
for the past eleven months. That's ears only-"

"You can hear it at night," I said. "They thought people
would think it was firecrackers?"

"Probably. The point is, by rights one-third of the
Island's estimated postaccident population should be dead
by now. After a specified number of years, with a steady
attrition rate dealt upon a fixed population, it would seem
that prediction could be made concerning a not-too-distant
settlement, or victory. There'd be stragglers, certainly, not
unlike those Japanese soldiers in the Pacific that so impress
Thatcher. But were nature to take its course the mopping-up
could be probably completed within ten years at most. I
pointed this out to Susan. Didn't matter. She's crazier than
he is, you know."

"What did the two of you come up with?" I asked.

"I came up with it," he said. "A plan by which the Army
would never run out of opposition. Jensen oversaw the
plan. I oversaw Jensen. She had, and has, no desire to know
facts. They're inessential to her beliefs."

"So will you tell me about this plan?" He nodded, and
sipped what remained of his coffee.

"A traffic network was already in place. Jensen was
familiar with Latin American affairs. All that was required was a readjustment. Fall, chips, where you may. At the time
a select group was chosen who might, in the event of
inadvertently revealed facts, be held responsible-"

"Otsuka was to take the blame?"

"At the time, we had but a limited understanding of his
true influence within his country. Our fault. You kill as
many birds as you can with the stones you're given."

"But he wasn't actually involved?"

"Of course not," said Bernard, chewing on one of his
nails so intently that I thought I should order breakfast for
him. "No problem, early on. Suddenly he becomes the key
to settling our difficulties, or should I say Thatcher's
difficulties, with Japan. Everything started coming loose at
the seams-"

"What was readjusted, Bernard?"

"Cargo," he said. "The network continued transporting
cargo from south to north along standard routes. We
shipped a different product."

"What?"

"Thatcher's xenophobia is an awful thing," he said,
resting his chin in his hand as he propped his elbow on the
tabletop. "These immigration quotas he's insisted upon for
the indefinite future. Can you imagine the potential going
to waste, forced to remain in the wilds? For better or worse,
Joanna, America is still better than most. Even now half the
world would move here if they could. Granted, that says
more about the world than about America. Still, I knew
there had to be a way to do what she wanted and give at
least a few to have their chance as well ..."

"You're moving people?"

He nodded. "In small boats. They have supercharged
engines and Stealth siding to elude Navy patrols. The Coast
Guard never touches anything of ours and never has, those
we don't worry about."

"Shipping them from Guyana to Connecticut."

"That's one route," he said. "Each boat carries from
seventy to one hundred and fifty-five, depending upon the
layout of the decks. It's a three-day trip, generally-"

"Three days and a twenty-five percent loss during the
trip," I said. His fingertip bled, as if he were stricken with
an errant stigmata. "Jensen went to Mystic not long ago, I
gather, or one of the other ports. A shipment came in while
he was there. He went to inspect the cargo. Is that what
happened?" Bernard appeared more than unnerved that l'd
become as accomplished at inference as Lester. With idle,
unwounded fingers he straightened his necktie. "Then he
threatened to go public?"

"It was his own fault," said Bernard. "You have to
delegate responsibility, you have to. Like you, he didn't
always follow the soundest advice he heard."

"Who was he going to tell?" I asked. "Who couldn't you
have bought off? Who would have cared enough?" He
didn't answer. "Thatcher? He doesn't know-?"

"She told me he'd disapprove," Bernard said. "She says
it's as important that he never find out as it is that the Army
not leave. That's easy enough to accomplish as long as
everyone behaves as they should behave. When Jensen
developed this newfound aversion to his project he let me
know how he felt. Perhaps I didn't treat his opinion with as
much respect as he believed it deserved. Before he left for
Chicago he let his feelings slip in such a way that it became
evident to me he was preparing to tell Thatcher, upon his
return. At my request Gus killed him for being a spy for
Otsuka. At least, that's what I told Gus." He tapped his
fingers against the side of his head. "That excuse served as
well for Avi, when Gus's turn came."

"Why did you drag Lester into this?" I asked. "Why was it
necessary?"

"He insisted upon leading Thatcher down roads there
was no need for him to be traveling. And you're well aware of my doubts concerning that entire operation. Doomed
from the start. It seemed a convenient way to kill two birds
with one stone, and I don't mean that literally-"

"Killed or driven mad," I said.

"Certainly not the former," he said. "Not necessarily the
latter, but-"

"You enjoyed doing that to him, Bernard. Why? How did
he hurt you?"

"I didn't like what he was doing to you," Bernard said. "I
never meant that he should be killed. I'm not Thatcher, for
God's sake."

The weather that morning was winterlike, in the traditional sense, as it once had always been in November. It no
longer felt appropriate to the season. I said nothing, neither
denying nor agreeing; there was little that Bernard so
despised as much as silence.

"I'm not Thatcher, Joanna," he repeated, as if it were one
of Avi's less obscure mantras, a chant with which he might
heal, a litany to sway the hearts of the heathen; a song sung
silently in the brain, reminding him of where he'd been,
and who he was with, when first he heard it.

"Let me see if I understand, then," I said. "I suppose
much of the cargo comes from South America, but I can't
see Dryco limiting itself. Where else, Bernard? The Caribbean, I'm sure. Africa? Asia?"

"People will do anything to come to America."

"When they already live in the Bronx?" I asked, recalling
that white van's red cross. "When they reach America what
happens?"

"They're transferred into smaller boats-"

"Those who survived."

"Those," he said. "They're offloaded in stages at night,
along the North Fork. Then the boats go back-"

"Leaving them on the beach to enjoy their new life in
America?"

"Joanna-"

"What's the survival rate for the first week, Bernard?"

"Keep your voice down-"

"It's not only men, I'm sure. Or adults. I'd think it'd be
most cost-effective to transfer whole families. Any package
deals offered?" He looked away from me. "Weekend rates?
Can't you see what you're doing?"

"What chance do they have where they were?" he asked.
"What opportunity? They have a chance here, Joanna. They
really do. The best always come out of it all right. What
chance would they otherwise have?"

"Have you ever seen them being brought in?" I asked.
"Have you?"

"It's an untenable position I'm in, Joanna," he said. "You
bring profit out of loss when you can. Draw good from bad.
You know."

His words sounded so rational, so heavenly, that had I
not seen the face from which they issued, nor known the
act, I might have been confused as to whose spirit spoke, to
what purpose, to the living. "You've managed to keep the
Army from discovering this arrangement? I shouldn't think
they'd think much of it."

"Several commanders in useful positions have enough of
a notion to take their payment and keep quiet," he said;
taking another drink from his cup, his face sagged, discovering his coffee had cooled. "They believe it's useful, having
a training field so close. Prepares the boys for anything, one
told me-"

"Have the shipments stopped-?"

"Certainly not," he said.

"With Susie's knowledge?"

"With her blessing," he said. It was nearly nine, I saw,
reading the clock on the wall; almost time to go. There were
several people I still needed to see. "Normality proceeds,"
he continued. "The caravans bark, the dogs move on. I'm
sorry, Joanna."

"I am, too-"

"It strikes me that you've grown into your position," he
said. The restaurant began emptying out; the food was
nearly gone, and they would receive no more until noontime. Bernard glanced at the window, at the multitudes
passing. "Oh, Joanna," he said. "The world would be such
a lovely place without these people in it."

Returning to the office, I found all progressing as it
always did: secretaries typed memos, mailroom staff
brought deliveries, comptrollers oversaw the growth of
ever-increasing numbers, bookkeepers peered at their terminals, assistants stood round the coffeemakers, pouring
fresh cups. From seven continents came calls and faxes and
messages, and the Dryden Corporation continued upon its
appointed task, to remake the world in its image, to join
what was once apart, to separate what was meant to be
together. Avi sat on one of the sofas in Thatcher's waiting
room perusing magazines, awaiting his cue. He didn't see
me when I came in; he stood when he heard me speak, his
manners, as ever, unfailing.

"Thatcher's in?" I asked Lilly, his secretary. With a jerk of
her head she nodded toward his door, and continued typing
at her keyboard, her eyes set upon her screen. She wore
plastic splints attached to her arms, so that her wrists could
have more support, if no less pain, while she typed.

"He and Mrs. D," she said. Before I went in I paused to
see what Avi had to say for himself, and to say what I
needed to him.

"You're all right?" he asked. "I was concerned."

"I'm sure. How's Thatcher and the little woman?"

"Celebratory in a quiet way," he said. "They're going
over some new projects, I believe. You'll be told shortly, no
doubt-"

"I'm giving notice today," I said. "I'm leaving, Avi."

His expression remained as stolid as it ever was; his eyes
alone revealed the surprise he felt. He cocked his head to one side, as if adjusting for deafness, and knowing where
best he could ascertain what he heard. "When?"

"As soon as I quit," I said. "I'll be here another hour,
maybe."

"What'll you do?"

"I have to leave, Avi. This sort of thing isn't what I'm
meant for. I'll be fine-"

"What they did to Macaffrey," he said, forgetting his
presence at the event. "It wasn't right."

"You were doing your job," I said. "I don't hold it against
you.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot as he stood there,
now seeming almost anxious to break away, to begin
another conversation with another person, or perhaps only
to return to his work. "It does seem he was something other
than what we were led to believe."

"He was," I said.

"You'll have to give up your apartment," he said.
"Where'll you stay? Joanna, you can't live on the street-"

"I'm going away for a while," I said. "It's hard to say
when I'll be back in town. It won't be very long, but-"

"Will I see you again?"

"I don't know," I said. "Perhaps you shouldn't expect
to." There were moments, during the time I knew Avi,
when his transcendent enclosure-his aura, one might put
it-would without warning disappear, leaving him as
helpless as an oyster removed from its shell. He knew such
a moment, just then, and said nothing; I knew how he felt.
"It's my life, Avi. You say I have to accept it for what it is,
and it's not here. Not anymore."

"People adapt," he said. "It takes time-"

"They try to adapt," I said. "Some do better than others.
Give my best to your father. I'm sorry I never met him."

"It's as well," Avi said. "He wouldn't have liked you."

"There's something I'm sure you know that I need to tell
you," I said. He stared into my eyes, for once, possibly, not seeing in them a reflection of himself. "When the moment
comes, Jake'll kill you. He knows what you did."