hadn't arrived yet. Joseph Alo's lungs were filling slowl y w ith fluid. He was drowning from the inside. He had trie d t o cough, but the pressure on his chest was too severe. He c losed his eyes and wished the Lord would take him.
The priest from the Trenton archdiocese arrived at noon and entered the dark room that had the sweet smell of death and medicine. He kneeled by the bed and said a prayer of contrition. As he held Joseph's hand, the dying Mafia don opened his eyes and looked at the priest whom he'd never seen before.
The priest knelt and began the anointing of the sick. He put some holy oil on Joseph's forehead, then anointed each of Joseph's palms. 'May the Lord who frees you from sin, save you.'
Joseph did not view his excesses as sin. He had simply fought to provide for his family. He had taken on a world that showed him no mercy from the time he was a child, and now he lay in a bed, listening to his lungs filling, knowing he was at the very end.
He closed his eyes and he was a boy again. He was lying on his back in a beautiful green field. He was listening to the birds singing. The breeze was cool and strong. . it ruffled his thick black hair. He had so much ahead of him, his life was just starting. And then, an old man in white robes and a long flowing gray beard leaned over him, taking the sun away.
'Are you ready?' the old man said to Joseph, the boy. 'For what?' Joseph's voice was the high soprano of his youth.
'Your next journey. I will help you up, but you must go alone.'
As the old man offered his hand, Joseph reached up to take it.
In the bedroom, the praying priest became aware that Joseph's hand had just risen above his head. It seemed to be reaching out for something, but then it dropped slowly back to his side.
The priest looked over, but Joseph Alo had passed on.
While Joseph Alo took his last journey alone, Haze Richards began a much shorter one, accompanied by a hundred reporters. It started on the rail platform in downtown Manchester. He said a few solemn words about the need for a unified country before he got on the train. It was the way A. J. wanted it. A common man going into the jaws of certain defeat to help a nation he loved. He took the two-hour train ride into Manhattan with the skeptical press in the seats all around him. Pod people whispered behind their hands, saying he had almost no chance to succeed. Haze sat with his briefcase on his lap, looking out the train window. The rushing Connecticut landscape played like a travelogue with broken sprockets. He wasn't focused on the scenery.
He was imagining what it would be like to actually achieve his dream-what it would be like to be the forty- third President of the United States of America.
Chapter 31
Brenton Spencer had been feeling terrible for a week. He had almost no energy and it was beginning to show on his newscasts. He couldn't sleep because hi s h eadaches were getting worse, waking him up in the middle of the night. He would stagger into the bathroom o n u nsteady legs, close the door so his wife, Sandy, wouldn't h ear, and throw up in his decorator-approved black ony x t oilet. He had made an appointment to see his doctor bu t h e was. Dreading the visit. Something was terribly wrong.
The day that Joseph Alo died, his lead story was Haze Richards's trek to New York. He carried the story on the five o'clock newscast, using a field remote from reporter Doug Miles. Brenton sat at his anchor desk on the Rim, his concentration shot, while a worried Steve Israel talked him through the newscast with the ear angel.
'Come on, Brenton, you're up in five. Stop drifting. You've got to tag the remote,' Steve was saying as the B- roll footage of Haze on the train platform was concluding. The floor manager gave him four fingers, then three, two, then pointed at Brenton who looked into the center camera, reading his copy in the lens TelePrompTer.
'Haze Richards has begun a train ride to New York in what is viewed by most as a futile attempt to solve one of the most complicated labor issues in America. He will be staying in Manhattan tonight at an undisclosed location and, in the morning, will try his hand at unlocking the snuggle between America's truckers and the businesses that employ them.' Then Brenton seemed lost as his copy ran out.
'Throw it to Hal,' Steve coached.
'And now to Hal Reed for a campaign update,' Brenton said.
While Hal was rattling on about local races, Brenton was wondering if he had brain cancer. What was causing these headaches? He got the broadcast back five minutes later for the last story, which was a brief reference to Joseph Alo's death. Steve Israel had elected to give it a light play for reasons that Brenton could only guess.
'Come on, Brenton, your copy's up,' Steve said, and as Brenton read the lens TelePrompTer, a file shot of Joseph Alo was Kyroned over his shoulder.
'Joseph Alo, the founder of the national chain of steak houses known as Mr. A's, died at two-thirty this afternoon in his New Jersey home,' he read. 'Doctors say he had suffered briefly from a pulmonary respiratory disease. He was seventy-three.' No mention was made of his alleged mob connections.
Ryan and Kaz watched the newscast on a black and white TV that was bolted to the dresser in the dingy hooker hotel. Neither one of them said anything until after Brenton Spencer finished his closing. Both were lost in their own thoughts. Ryan was worried about Lucinda, wondering where she was, how her father's death would affect her, how he could find a way to get in touch.
'I need to get out of this room for a while,' Ryan said, looking over at Kaz.
In the three days since Kaz had brought him there, he'd never left the bed except when Kaz helped him to the bathroom, which was down the hall. That trip was a twice-a-day adventure that left him light-headed. Ryan's life had been slowed to a crawl. He had counted the water-stained tiles on the ceiling of the room several hundred times, malting pictures out of the jagged brown shapes. A Rorschach nightmare that was warping him. He found that The Mechanic was rerunning at four A. M. on channel 6. He watched it twice, trying to regain some of the excitement he had once felt for the Emmy-winning show, but it seemed dull and shallow to him now. His own pretentious dialogue echoed insincerely across a landscape of personal excesses. Kenetta had dropped by once and changed the dressing. After she had finished, she smiled at him and told him he was doing great Then she and Kaz had gone into the hall and whispered. When Kaz came back, he had avoided Ryan's eyes. Now Ryan just wanted to get out of the stifling, cum-stained hotel room.
'The doctor said you're not supposed to get up.'
'Fuck it.' Ryan sat up, carefully swinging his damaged leg off the bed and resting it on the floor. He tried to stand and put weight on the leg, but as soon as he did, it collapsed under him. He fell awkwardly back on the bed as Kaz ran and grabbed him.
'I'm getting outta here for a while if I have to crawl. You can help me or you can watch.' His leg didn't have the sharp pain of a few days ago, but it never stopped aching. He was afraid he'd lost a lot of muscle that he'd need to walk. Kaz helped him up and looked at the heavy bandage on his leg, hoping Ryan hadn't broken the stitches loose.
They avoided the prying, vacant eyes of the resident hookers by moving out the back through the narrow, dirty corridor. Kaz left Ryan leaning on the doorjamb as he went and got the car, brought it around, and helped Ryan into the front seat. The cold January night air perked Ryan up.
They drove around Trenton until Kaz found a bleeding meat joint that was empty and out of the way. Kaz helped Ryan out and got him into the back booth of the diner. They ordered rare steak and coffee while a waiter set th e t able. After he left, they took stock of each other.
'I may not be the smartest guy on the planet, but I don't figure you came outta that stand of trees and blew up Mickey's driver because you needed target practice. I also don't think you're taking care of me because you want a career in nursing.'
'Why don't you keep talking and I'll tell you when you stop making sense.'
Ryan filled him in on how Mickey had approached him., how he'd decided to get out of Hollywood and give his battered career a rest. He told Kaz about going to work in Princeton for Malcolm Rasher, about the confrontation in Joseph's study, and the overheard conversation between A. J. and Mickey during which A. J. mentioned cash from
