“Any other men involved?” I said.
“With Heidi, there are always men involved,” he said. “The separation is not, however, about that.”
“What is it about?”
“We each need time to discover ourselves,” Bradshaw said.
“Getting help?” I said.
“I am seeing a therapist,” Bradshaw said. “I don’t know what Heidi is doing.”
“Spend much time in Washington?”
“Information Agency?” he said. “Some. I spend some time overseas as well.”
“Where?”
“Middle East, Central Europe,” he said. “ London.”
“Before you were separated, did Heidi go with you?”
“Sometimes,” he said.
Through the archway behind us I could see that the living room looked sort of empty, too. It had a rug and a couch, but not much else.
“Ever meet a guy named Rugar?” I said.
“No, why do you ask?”
“You’re the first person in this deal that might have,” I said.
“Because of my government service?”
“He’s been in government service, too,” I said.
“Is he the kidnapper?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re suggesting I might be complicit?”
“Somebody had to have access to Rugar.”
“Perhaps you are complicit,” Bradshaw said. “You certainly did nothing to stop the kidnapping.”
“I wish I were,” I said. “Then I could tell myself what I want to know.”
“I see no reason to be flip,” he said.
“Any reason will do,” I said. “Have you ever been involved in covert operations?”
“For God’s sake, I’m a PR adviser. I know nothing about covert.”
“And if you did, you wouldn’t admit it,” I said. “Because then it would no longer be covert.”
Bradshaw smiled a pale smile.
“I assume spies do not go about telling people they are spies,” he said.
“So the fact that you deny it is meaningless,” I said.
“I suppose so,” Bradshaw said.
“Did you get along with Adelaide Van Meer?” I said.
“Heidi’s daughter?” He shrugged. “I thought she was spoiled and childish and somewhat neurasthenic. But we didn’t fight or anything.”
“Did Heidi know you thought that about her daughter?”
“Hell,” Bradshaw said. “She thought that, too, except it was her daughter, and she was sort of required to love her.”
27
Susan’s idea of a great Chinese meal is a small bowl of brown rice and some chopsticks. But occasionally she indulges my taste for something more exotic, and goes with me to P. F. Chang’s in Park Square, where she nibbles at her rice and watches in understated horror as I wolf down some sweet-and-sour pork. We were doing that on a quiet Tuesday evening, when the Gray Man came to our table and stood.
Susan’s face tightened.
I said, “Care to join us?”
“I would,” he said, and pulled out a chair and sat.
The waitress came over.
“Would you like to see a menu?” she said.
“No. Bring me Stoli and soda,” the Gray Man said. “A double.”
She went for the drink. The Gray Man looked at Susan.
“Dr. Silverman,” he said.
Susan nodded once without speaking. I gestured at my sweet-and-sour pork.
“Bite?” I said.
He shook his head.
“I’m not here for trouble,” he said.
“The management will probably be pleased,” I said.
The waitress brought him his drink. He took some in.
“I would like you to stop looking into the events at Tashtego Island,” he said.
“How come?” I said.
“We have a history, you and I, and it has caused me to hold you in some regard,” he said.
“Aw, hell,” I said.
“I do not wish to kill you,” he said.
“He likes me,” I said to Susan. “He really, really likes me.”
“You are, as usual, flippant. And you are, as usual, involved in something you don’t understand,” Rugar said. “Nothing is as it seems.”
“The old illusion-and-reality issue,” I said. “You’re a heavy guy, Rugar.”
He gestured to our waitress for another drink.
“I will not,” he said, looking at Susan, “do any harm to Dr. Silverman. It would compromise the adversarial dignity of our history.”
The waitress set Rugar’s drink down before him and took his empty glass and left.
“You believe me?” Rugar said.
“Your word is good,” I said.
“Yes,” he said. “It is. And I give you my word that you are blundering about in a situation that you don’t understand.”
“That’s a description of my whole professional life, Rugar.”
He nodded and drank some vodka.
“The world would be less interesting,” Rugar said, “without you in it. The valid adversary. The worthy opponent. The one who keeps me sharp.”
“But…” I said.
“But your present course will lead us to a point where you are intolerable,” Rugar said.
“And?” I said.
“And I will kill you,” Rugar said.
“You tried that already,” I said.
“And would have succeeded if you had been other than who you are. I should have made sure.”
“You should have,” I said.
“I don’t make many mistakes,” Rugar said, “and I never make one twice.”
“You ever run into Harden Bradshaw?” I said.
He looked silently at Susan for a moment.
Then he said, “Perhaps if you spoke with him.”
Susan shook her head.
“You think you know him,” she said.
“Very well,” Rugar said.
“And you think if you threaten him he will walk away from this?”
“I am hopeful,” Rugar said, “that he might recognize how much easier life would be if he just enjoyed it with you and didn’t have to keep an eye out always for me.”
“He might recognize it,” Susan said. “He won’t do it.”
Rugar looked at me.
“On the other hand, I have nothing to lose by trying,” Rugar said. “He won’t strike first.”
“You’re sure?” Susan said.
“Yes. Unless I threaten you, which I have said I won’t do,” Rugar said.
“You think he would kill you if you threatened me?”
“He would try,” Rugar said.
Susan looked at me.
“Would you?”
“I’d succeed,” I said.
Rugar almost smiled.
“I will not harm Dr. Silverman,” he said, and stood.
“But I fear I will have to deal with you.”
I nodded.
“You will,” I said.
He picked up his glass, drained it, put it down, and walked away. I returned to my sweet-and-sour pork. Susan looked after him for a while.
“It’s almost as if you liked each other,” she said.
“We almost do,” I said.
“Is his word, in fact, good?” Susan said.
“Yes,” I said. “He won’t bother you.”
“You know that.”
“Yes.”
“I’m not asking for reassurance,” Susan said. “I believe you. But how do you know?”
“Rugar’s a professional killer, pretty much willing to do anything. Unless he has some rules for himself, he has no limits, and he’s in free-float. There’s no tether.”
“So he makes some up.”
“Yep.”
“Do you do that?”
“Don’t need to,” I said. “I have you.”
When we were through eating, I signaled for the check.
“The gentleman in the gray suit has taken care of your dinner,” the waitress said.
“Did he give you a credit card?” I said.
“No,” she said. “Cash. Quite a lot. He said to keep the leftover as a tip.”
I nodded. The waitress left. I smiled.
“Even in his grand gesture,” I said, “he’s leaving no paper trail.”
“And even accepting the grand gesture,” Susan said, “you’re looking for a paper trail.”
The valet brought my car. We got in and started down Charles Street.