was clear of strollers, Roman backed up and asked Gladstone to open the bag himself and tilt it toward him to see the contents.
Gladstone cocked his head at him. “You think I’ve got a bomb in here?”
“If you refuse to open it, I will.”
Gladstone snapped open the bag and tilted it toward him. It was full of bound hundred-dollar bills. Roman walked over and reached randomly into the bag to check the packs. All Franklins in packs of ten thousand. He didn’t have to count them. He closed the bag.
“When will I hear from you?” Gladstone said.
“Within the next twenty-four hours.”
Roman then watched Gladstone walk the same flower-lined path to Arlington Street. To be sure Gladstone left, he cut across the grass to where the Lincoln Town Car waited at the curb. While Roman watched through some bushes, he saw the driver get out and open the rear door for Gladstone. With a shock, Roman took in the face of the chauffeur. It was the same guy who had ridden to the Fraternity of Jesus with Babcock.
80
About two hours after stopping, Zack came upon the Biddeford/Route 5 exit. Nothing looked familiar, but he turned off.
“Is this it?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
There was a new motel complex just off the exit ramp that still had scaffolding on one wall and construction machinery in front.
“But that’s all new, and you haven’t been here in twenty years.”
“Believe me, this is the right way.”
“I’m trying to.”
There was a clutch of fast-food restaurants on the access road.
“Maybe we should stop for directions and get something to eat.”
“We’ll find a place when we get closer.”
“Closer to what?”
He didn’t say anything because he didn’t want to startle her. But the sensation was now electric. She wouldn’t understand, and he couldn’t put it into words that made sense.
But he really should thank Sarah for helping to lead him out of the tunnel and into the light. If it hadn’t been for the suspension tests, he’d still be stuck in the gray materialist world. Although he had long denied it, something had gotten into his head that first day with the stimulation helmet, then burned like a pilot light throughout all the nasty flatlining; and now it was a discernible beacon.
Ironically, the only one in that lab who had insight was the same person who tried to kill him. Funny how he was now coming around to respecting that woman. She had had her eye on the prize. And the prize was just ahead.
He turned onto Route 5.
Just a few more miles.
81
At three fifteen, Roman called Norman Babcock to tell him to meet him in half an hour and named the drop spot. Babcock agreed.
At three forty-five, from his rental car, Roman watched Babcock drive his Mercedes to a deserted corner of the Watertown Mall. Roman pulled out of his unseen slot and moved to within fifty feet of Babcock, who, as instructed, stood in front of his car with a travel bag. When he was certain no other cars had accompanied Babcock, Roman called him on his cell phone, instructing him to approach his car. As he did, Roman rolled down the driver’s- side window.
But Babcock did not hand him the bag. “How do I know you won’t just disappear yourself?”
“I didn’t do that for the last four assignments, right?”
“Yeah, but this is half a million.”
“And I want the other half.”
“And when will I see the results?”
“Twenty-four hours,” he said, and pulled over an empty backpack from the passenger seat.
“What’s that for?”
“Today the money, tomorrow his head.”
Babcock nodded. He handed Roman the valise. But Roman shook his head. There were no cars nearby. “Step back ten feet and open it and show me the contents.”
“What? Why?”
“Just do it.”
Babcock froze for a moment as Roman raised his weapon so it was visible and rolled up his window to watch.
Then Babcock unzipped the bag and tilted it toward Roman’s side window. He even pulled out a pack of hundreds and fanned it with his thumb.
When Roman was satisfied, he rolled down the window and let Babcock hand him the bag. He unloaded each pack of hundreds and transferred them to his backpack, leaving Babcock with the original gym bag just in case it had a homing device on it.
“Twenty-four hours,” Babcock said, still looking torn.
“‘“Believe in me,” saith the Lord.’”
“But you’re not the Lord.”
“No, but I’m the best warrior he’s got.”
82
Roman drove from the Watertown Mall to a Bank of America in Watertown Square to deposit the cash from Babcock and Gladstone in a safety deposit box.
The parking lot was nearly abandoned because the bank was closing shortly. He had a few minutes and pulled to the rear of the building. Before he got out, he slipped the DVD of Zack Kashian’s first suspension into his laptop. Something in that first interview had stuck in his mind like a thorn. And for the third time he reviewed the kid’s emergence.
He grunted.
The kid opened one eye.
“
