“Locking him up won’t help you,” Max said calmly. “And it isn’t necessary. We’ll tell you what you want to know. We just need credentials.”
Billy’s eyes bulged. He kept staring from one unexpected visitor to the next, eyes like billiard balls. “How-how’d you get in here?” When no one answered, he gulped hard and said, “I had to tell them who told me. They won’t give you credentials no matter what.”
“You didn’t get the chance to tell them-you were ducking down the back steps, remember?” Max said with that assurance that so impressed strangers. “It’s not an issue. You get us the meeting with the right people-I’ll take care of the rest.”
Billy was still flustered, still mulling the previous question. “You-how’d you find this place? You didn’t follow us, I was watching.”
“We got here first,” Max nodded. “So no, we didn’t follow you.”
“So how’d you know…we were coming here?”
“If your network will get us in, you can tell them later that I forced you. They’ll believe you, I promise.”
“Why would they?”
“Because that’s what I do,” Max said darkly. “I make people do things they don’t want to do.” He was using the quiet voice, which only brought out the menace in him. Billy sank into a chair next to the desk. Then he stared, alarmed, at the desk itself. Max slid away and held his hands up to show they were empty.
“I haven’t opened anything. Your weed’s still in the top drawer and your revolver still in the leg. The emails from your publisher’s wife-”
“That’s enough!” Billy yelled. “You had no right; this is a private-”
“Check the locks,” Max said, stepping away and motioning. Billy showed no sign of moving from his chair. “I didn’t have to look. I knew you would tell me what’s there.” This struck me odd and I saw Tauber and Kate also staring at Max now. Where was he going with this?
“You’ve been troubled recently by memories of a woman named Christina. You haven’t seen her in years but she’s in your dreams and waking thoughts. You’ve been trying to think of a way to ask your ex for her address but-”
Billy was trembling now; it took a lot of visible effort before he was actually able to speak. “In the time you’ve spent monitoring me,” he burst, “you could’ve got the credentials yourself.”
“How could I monitor something you haven’t said aloud? To anyone?” Max asked, as low-key as a hospital shrink. “I’m reading your mind, Billy.” It was shocking to hear him say it out loud. We just needed credentials-why give away the farm?
“Bullshit,” Billy answered. I remembered saying the same thing…two days ago? Was that possible?
Max stared him down for about ten seconds. “Twenty-five,” he replied coolly, responding to an unspoken question. “4672 Rogers Court, Medina Illinois. Dwight Eisenhower High School. There was a small mole on her left breast-left from your point of view, not hers.”
“Fuck you!” Billy jumped from his seat and lurched toward the door. He never made it. He stopped dead, frozen in air for twenty seconds, hand outstretched for the knob but going nowhere. Slowly, tortuously, the hand turned, moving mere inches from his eyes, fingers outstretched and pointing. Billy was shaking, sweating, trying with all his might to control his own body, without success. I remembered how frightening that felt. After a long moment, the fingers folded up, one by one, until he was giving himself the bird at close range.
Billy groaned and I cracked up but Max stayed focused behind the desk. “Like I said-I make people do things they don’t want to do. Why don’t you have a seat and we’ll talk.” No reply. “I’m not going to let you do anything else, so you might as well.” Billy finally, stiffly, returned to his chair.
“If you can do this, what do you need me for?” he asked.
“Our enemies are watching for us. We won’t get credentials without them noticing. On the other hand, a big network adding a crew at the last minute, even at the G8, is nothing special. But there’s more to it than that.”
He glanced at me. “I’ve had time to think about this since you called Billy. The more time we spend in Rome, the more obvious it is-you felt it along the river just now. They’re everywhere, the drones. I don’t know why-all they need is one guy a few feet from her-but look at how many they brought. Even if we manage to stop them here, this won’t be over. And the chances of us getting out alive aren’t great.” I shivered, simply because there was no drama in him, in what he’d just said. He’d sized up our situation, assessed the odds and they weren’t good. He was being Max, following his blessed facts. “So someone has to put out this story, has to let ordinary citizens know what’s happening. The fight will have to get bigger. It can’t be just us.”
“You see, Billy, you don’t look on the bright side. You’re worrying about what I might do to you. You’re missing what I can do for you.”
Billy, hair heavy with sweat, shirt soaked through, didn’t appear encouraged. “Such as?”
“I don’t know-what would make you happy? A Peabody? How about a Pulitzer?”
It took a minute for Billy to get his breathing under control but suddenly he was making the effort.
“How’s this for a story? Assassination. Governments toppled. Trillions in play. The fate of the World at stake. Mindreaders running wild, tipping the balance of power. Top of the News Hour and you tell our side of the story. Exclusive. ”
Billy slumped. “Jaysus! Conspiracies, Psychic Phenomena. UFO’s killed Kennedy. Not worth shit.”
“What if we can prove it? Pull back the curtain in public? In front of witnesses?” Billy’s face was cautious, but his eyes were ravenous.
“But here’s the rest,” Max warned. “You can’t tell this story until everything’s over. You’ll win awards but you probably won’t be able to accept them-you might not survive the trip. You’ll have to protect yourself against threats from people like me-threats inside your own head. So there’s a pricetag-and it won’t be fun.”
“I guess,” Billy laughed-a coarse, harsh cynical laugh. “Why would I want something like that?”
Max smiled his sad smile. “We all want to matter. Most of us don’t ever get the chance to really affect things. It’s an evil world and the worst threats come from inside, the places we’re not watching. You haven’t been a journalist all these years for the money, Billy,” he said and Billy laughed again. “You love the truth, even if it doesn’t always love you back. We’ll feed you the facts, new stuff on a regular basis. And you’ll post the stories Gregg writes too.”
“Me?”
“You’ve been keeping a journal,” Max told me, fervent. “Tell people what it’s like inside our little team. We’ll need to get our side out. Eventually, we’ll need accomplices.”
Billy was wearing the reporter’s gaze now. “What are you talking about? Worldwide revolution?”
“Not against governments,” Max shrugged. “They won’t take sides, not openly at least. This will be a rebellion by people who’ve had everything taken away from them-their dignity, control over their own lives. It’ll be their way to matter. You’re an old Commie, Billy-you should like that.”
Billy pulled a notepad off the desk. “What’s it all about?”
Fifteen
We sat on the balcony staring at the night sky, full of dinner and tipsy from the villa’s good wine, going over the G8 agenda. Billy arranged a five-minute preliminary meeting with the head of credentials; Max walked out with full access to all events and the run of the island for the four of us. Billy handed me $100 on the spot. “Don’t bet against Max,” I told him. Now we were going over the details.
“They won’t wait long,” Tauber said.
“What do you mean?”
“Think about it. They wanta kill hope. She’s only hope till she’s made her pitch. After that, either they’re all in it together or more’n likely they knock it down and she’s over. So if they’re gonna kill hope, they’ve gotta take her out early.”