touched him he found himself needing to look up to make eye contact.
“Just wanted to say my thank-you,” Hollis said. If he’d still had his hat he would have been clutching it shyly in his hands.
“Hey, don’t mention it.”
“No, no.” Hollis shook his head solemnly. “I’m in your debt.”
“I’ll make a deal with you,” Noah said. “Tell me what time it is and we’ll call it even.”
The big man looked up and seemed to take a bearing on a number of celestial bodies before ciphering a moment. “I’d say she’s nigh onto half-past four in the morning, give or take some.”
“Four-thirty. Should I assume that’s Mountain Time?”
Hollis smiled politely, as though a good friend had made a joke that wasn’t very funny. “Good night, now,” he said.
“Take care.”
Up the street a few blocks Noah saw his car round the corner. He raised a hand to make himself known to the driver and watched the Mercedes blink its brights and signal toward the curb.
Noah took a step toward the car, but stopped when he heard familiar voices behind him. He turned to see Molly and her mother saying goodbye to the last of their departing compatriots. The two of them had apparently stayed back to make sure everyone made it out to the street. When they saw him standing there Molly whispered something in her mom’s ear and they walked up to him together.
“We were never properly introduced,” the older woman said. “I’m Beverly Emerson.”
“Noah Gardner.” They shook hands. “It goes without saying, but I wish we could have met without all this trouble.”
“I understand we have you to thank for going to bat for all of us tonight.”
“That makes me sound a lot more noble than I feel.”
“I appreciate what you did, very much.” She gave her daughter a small motherly nudge with an elbow.
“So do I,” Molly said. There was something hard to place in the way she was looking at him; it wasn’t quite an apology in her eyes, but something like it.
For his part, he was feeling more and more uncomfortable with all the misplaced gratitude, as though he’d done any more than throw his father’s weight around.
“I’ll pass your regards along to my lawyer when I see him again. He’s still inside cleaning up after me.” The car arrived, eased up to a smooth stop, and its door locks clicked. Given the circumstances he would have preferred less of a showboat, but the dispatcher had sent one of the silver S600 Pullmans from the downtown garage, a vehicle only slightly less ostentatious than a Richie Rich stretch limousine. “Could I offer you two a ride somewhere?”
“Oh, that would be fantastic,” Beverly said.
Molly took the seat across from him, with her mother beside. The interior of this particular car was designed as a four-person conference room and workspace. Even so, its amenities were every bit as over-the-top as any limo devoted to simple luxury. Every point of contact was hand-worked leather and rare polished wood. Each of the four seats, arranged two-facing-two, was bordered by glowing flat panels ready to provide access to a dizzying array of information or entertainment. Touchscreens were embedded seamlessly in the armrests and consoles, poised to order up any conceivable human need. The entire vehicle was a rolling monument to the comforts of First World business royalty; for the cost of the custom work alone within these few cubic feet, you could easily buy a nice house almost anywhere in the world.
“I don’t always get to travel like this,” Noah apologized as the car got under way. “But just for perspective, my dad wouldn’t be caught dead in a Mercedes. He rides in an armored Maybach 62, or he walks.”
It turned out that their destinations were all in nearly opposite directions. When the driver asked “Where to?” over the intercom Noah guided him first to the nearest of the three, the Chelsea Hotel. Meanwhile, the two women were looking around at their lavish surroundings, seeming hesitant to touch anything for fear that if they broke it they might have to buy it.
“You’ll like this,” Noah said, as he opened a center compartment by his side. Behind the sliding door was a neat pyramid of Turkish hand towels, kept constantly warm and moist like fresh dinner rolls. With a set of tongs he passed one to each of them, and then unrolled his own and pressed the steaming cloth to his face, rubbed in the heat, leaned back, and breathed in the faint scents of citrus and therapeutic herbs. His riding companions did the same, and soon there were long sighs from across the compartment, the sounds of unrepentant indulgence, comfort, and relief.
He knew exactly what they were feeling, though he was managing to keep somewhat quieter about it. The physical sensation was nice enough, but a great mental weight had also been lifted, and that was just now sinking in. The bad night had officially run its course and all three of them were still standing.
For the next round of refreshment Noah opened the side bar and passed across a soft drink for each of them. Several blocks whispered past the long windows; despite the occasionally rugged pavement and the never-ending city noises outside, the car’s interior was pin-drop quiet and steady enough for major surgery.
“Molly tells me that you’re a creative writer.”
Noah had been in the midst of a sip, and nearly spit out his ginger ale.
“Oh, is that how she put it?”
“It’s such an interesting business you’re in,” Beverly said. “What’s a typical day like, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Typical day,” he said, considering. “Looking at Friday, yesterday now, let’s see… I can’t really discuss what I did early in the morning, same with the afternoon, but at midday I wrote some talking points for a man, a U.S. senator from out west who’s about to become the subject of an ethics investigation.”
“Did he do something wrong?”
“Absolutely yes, he did. He helped set up a former aide as an unregistered lobbyist, and then he sat in some questionable meetings in support of that business, and while he was at it he was also carrying on a hot-and-heavy love affair with the guy’s wife for almost a year.”
“Oh, my.”
“Yeah, it’s all connected in some pretty sick ways.”
“And what did you give him to say?”
“You’ve heard it before-there’s been no wrongdoing, the charges are baseless, a pledge of full cooperation, faith in the process, a little slam at the motivations of his accusers-short and sweet, because he’s so eager to get back to serving the needs of his constituents. Believe me, this sort of thing is routine. It’ll be in the papers tomorrow night; that’s why I can tell you about it.”
Noah had been through this introductory conversation many times and so he knew what the next question would be. He’d answered it often enough, at scores of cocktail parties and on hundreds of first dates, and his answer had become so smooth and automatic that he no longer had to worry much about it. Trouble was, though the words were basically the same, Beverly Emerson asked the question in a manner that no one else ever had.
“But doesn’t it bother you sometimes, Noah?”
It wasn’t asked in mock amazement, or as a high-handed moral judgment, not even as the (much more common) probe for good advice on how best to sidestep one’s conscience in a similarly shady career. Instead she asked the question with genuine compassion, as if she already knew what was in his heart. That gave him no real choice but to answer it honestly.
“Whenever I make the mistake of stopping to actually think about it? Yes, it really does bother me.”
The car had pulled up to its first stop, idling there.
“This is me,” Beverly said. As the driver opened the side door she hugged her daughter and whispered good night, then leaned forward to pat Noah on his knee. “My friend, it’s been an experience. I hope to see you again real soon.”
“Good night.” He raised his soda bottle. “Here’s to a quieter night next time.”
Molly watched her mother’s departure until she’d disappeared safely into the hotel lobby. Then the car was moving again; the driver would choose a scenic holding pattern while awaiting further directions. Oftentimes, he’d surely been instructed, his work was as much about the journey as the destination.
“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Noah said.
