“Same voice all the time?”
“No.”
“That’s too bad.”
Ticknor said, “Why?”
“Makes it seem less like a single cuckoo getting his rocks off on the phone,” I said. “I assume you’ve rejected the idea of withdrawing the book.”
Rachel Wallace said, “Absolutely.”
Ticknor said, “We suggested that. We said we’d not hold her to the contract.”
“You also mentioned returning the advance,” Rachel Wallace said.
“We run a business, Rachel.”
“So do I,” she said. “My business is with women’s rights and with gay liberation and with writing.” She looked at me. “I cannot let them frighten me. I cannot let them stifle me. Do you understand that?”
I said yes.
“That’s your job,” she said. “To see that I’m allowed to speak.”
“What is there in the new book,” I said, “that would cause people to kill you?”
“It began as a book about sexual prejudice. Discrimination in the job market against women, gay people, and specifically gay women. But it has expanded. Sexual prejudice goes hand in hand with other forms of corruption. Violation of the equal employment laws is often accompanied by violation of other laws. Bribery, kickbacks, racket tie-ins. I have named names as I found them. A lot of people will be hurt by my book. All of them deserve it.”
“Corporations,” Ticknor said, “local government agencies, politicians, city hall, the Roman Catholic Church. She has taken on a lot of the local power structure.”
“Is it all Greater Boston?”
“Yes,” she said. “I use it as a microcosm. Rather than trying to generalize about the nation, I study one large city very closely. Synecdoche, the rhetoricians would call it.”
“Yeah,” I said, “I bet they would.”
“So,” Ticknor said, “you see there are plenty of potential villains.”
“May I have a copy of the book to read?”
“I brought one along,” Ticknor said. He took his briefcase off the floor, opened it, and took out a book with a green dust jacket. The title, in salmon letters, took up most of the front. Rachel Wallace’s picture took up most of the back. “Just out,” Ticknor said.
“I’ll read it tonight,” I said. “When do I report for work?”
“Right now,” Rachel Wallace said. “You are here. You are armed. And quite frankly I have been frightened. I won’t be deflected. But I am frightened.”
“What are your plans for today?” I said.
“We shall have perhaps three more drinks here, then you and I shall go to dinner. After dinner I shall go to my room and work until midnight. At midnight I shall go to bed. Once I am in my room with the door locked, I should think you could leave. The security here is quite good, I’m sure. At the slightest rustle outside my door I will call the hotel security number without a qualm.”
“And tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow you should meet me at my room at eight o’clock. I have a speech in the morning and an autographing in the afternoon.”
“I have a date for dinner tonight,” I said. “May I ask her to join us?”
“You’re not married,” she said.
“That’s true,” I said.
“Is this a casual date or is this your person?”
“It’s my person,” I said.
Ticknor said, “We can’t cover her expenses, you know.”
“Oh, damn,” I said.
“Yes, of course, bring her along. I hope that you don’t plan to cart her everywhere, however. Business and pleasure, you know.”
“She isn’t someone you cart,” I said. “If she joins us, it will be your good fortune.”
“I don’t care for your tone, buster,” Rachel Wallace said. “I have a perfectly legitimate concern that you will not be distracted by your lady friend from doing what we pay you to do. If there’s danger, would you look after her first or me.”
“Her,” I said.
“Then certainly I can suggest that she not always be with us.”
“She won’t be,” I said. “I doubt that she could stand it.”
“Perhaps I shall change my mind about this evening,” Rachel Wallace said.
