'Your grandfather doesn't mean any of those things he says, Bravo. You know that inside he's happy to see you.'
Bravo looked away.
'What is it?'
Again, silence.
'C'mon,' Dexter urged. 'You can tell me anything, you know that.'
'I don't want to die.'
Dexter gave him a quick look full of fatherly concern. 'You're not going to die, Bravo. Not for a long, long time.'
'But Grandpa will.'
'All the more reason for you to see him, as often as possible. I want you to remember-'
Bravo, in a sudden rage fueled by grief and frustration, shouted, 'Remember what? A walking skeleton, something out of a nightmare?'
Dexter signaled and pulled over into the breakdown lane, where he stopped the car. Turning to his son, he said, 'No matter how your grandfather looks now, he's the same inside, he's a man who has accomplished great things. He deserves your attention and your respect.'
With a child's clear access to the truth, Bravo said, 'I don't think he's the same inside.'
This brought Dexter up short. He turned his head, one arm draped over the wheel, watched the lines of cars and trucks whizzing by. The car rocked in the fluted edge of their slipstream.
'You're right.' Dexter Shaw sighed. 'I've been fighting against it, but my father isn't the same inside, he's been brought low.'
It was the first time Bravo had seen his father cry. It wouldn't be the last.
Bravo put his hand on his father's shoulder. 'It's okay, Dad.'
'No, it's not. I shouldn't be taking you every week. It's selfish.'
'Hey, Dad-'
'My father was everything to me. To see him like this…' Dexter shook his head. 'But these are the consequences of life, Bravo. One has to own up to them, take them like a man.'
'Then we will.'
Dexter Shaw looked at his son.
'I mean, we're together, right?' The nine-year-old Bravo flashed a courageous smile. 'We're men, right?'
Like a cool breath on his cheek, Bravo felt his father's departure, and he opened his eyes. The light had lowered, the lengthening shadows were the color of lapis. Still no sign of Khalif, and now Bravo knew that he wouldn't come. His coffee was cold and he called for another, along with something to eat. 'Anything but pulpo,' he told the waiter. He was up to here with octopus.
It was a mistake to have picked a fight with Mikhail Kartli. The imprudence of it shocked him even now. But there are times when control goes out the window and then you simply have to make the best of a bad situation. Take the consequences like a man.
His coffee came and he drank a bit of it, burning the tip of his tongue. With a clatter, he put the cup down and called Emma. He was eight hours ahead of New York. By all rights, he should have woken her up, but she answered immediately and there was no trace of sleep in her voice.
'My God, Bravo, where have you been? I've been trying you for the better part of a day.'
'Out of cell range, obviously. Listen, I found the mole.'
'You did? Who is it?'
'Was. Paolo Zorzi. He's dead.'
'Zorzi?' There was silence for a moment, then Emma said, 'I don't know.'
'What d'you mean? He was one of the names on the list Dad made. Father Mosto showed it to me in Venice.'
'Ah, Bravo. That list was one of Dad's ploys, nothing but disinformation, in case it somehow fell into the hands of a Knight.'
He sat up straight. 'You're joking, right?'
'Think about it a minute. This is Dad we're talking about. Do you really think he'd leave a list of suspects lying around, especially an unencrypted one?'
Bravo's head had begun to pound. 'But Zorzi had me beaten, captured… Are you telling me he wasn't the traitor?'
'No. What I'm saying is we can't be sure. The only list Dad compiled was in his head.'
'But you were doing research for him. You know all the suspects. Was Zorzi one of them?'
'At one point, yes.'
A cold ball of fear was congealing in Bravo's stomach. 'What does that mean?'
'About a month before he was killed Dad had me stop all the background intelligence I was digging up.'
'Why?'
'That's what I asked him. All he'd say was that he'd made a breakthrough, that he had to do the rest of it alone. I begged him to let me help, but he was adamant. You know how hard-headed Dad could be.'
He certainly did know. 'But why all of a sudden did he cut you out?'
'I've tried a dozen theories. None of them makes sense.'
'What,' Bravo said, 'if the breakthrough involved a new suspect very close to Dad?'
'But why would he-?'
'Someone he didn't want you to know about-especially that he was very close to her.'
'Her?'
'Jenny Logan-the Guardian. No wonder Zorzi was a prior suspect; it was one of his people who was the mole. She probably left clues leading Dad back to him. But it didn't work-or at least, not for long. I think he assigned her to me hoping she'd trip her hand conclusively and I'd find her out. Which is exactly what's happened.'
'I don't know, Bravo, that's a lot of danger to expose you to.'
'No more than what he'd been training me for.'
'Still, it was a monumental gamble on his part, don't you think?'
'The stakes are high, Emma, I don't have to tell you that.' He thought a moment. 'What were you doing for Dad after he pulled you off the background checks?'
'Nothing all that important. Checking the Order's audio logs of their London-based intel. Honestly, I don't know why he wanted it vetted.'
'Me neither,' Bravo said. 'But you know Dad, somewhere there was a reason. Can you manage-?'
'Blind, you mean? I've been trying to tell you since you called but you kept laying bombshells on me. Some of my sight has come back.'
He let out a whoop of delight. 'Emma, that's fantastic!'
'It's only in one eye so far and my vision's not that great, especially distances. It may never be, the doctors tell me. But I can see the computer screen well enough, especially with the great hulking magnifying lens I had made.'
'Then you can continue vetting the London audio intel.'
'But it's sooo boring,' Emma moaned in her most theatrical voice.
'Look, I've recently discovered that Dad was working on fundamentalist movements in and around the Middle East. There's a long history of fundamentalist training and staging activity in London, as you know, so while what he's asked you to do might seem boring, it could have very serious implications.'
'Okay, okay, you've sold me, but promise me you'll stay in touch more often. Where are you, by the way?'
'Best not to tell you.'
She laughed. 'Now you sound just like Dad.'
'Get cracking on that London intel.'
'Right. Take care of yourself.'
