I stand, preparing to leave.
“Wait. Sit down,” Mooney says. “We haven’t begun the questioning!”
“With all due respect, I have no interest in being Director of Sensory Resources.”
“None?”
“None.”
“Why?”
“It’s a shit job.”
Mooney says, “You were informed by phone you were a candidate?”
“I was.”
“But you aren’t interested in the job?”
“That’s correct.”
Mooney looks around the table. “Who else has a prospective candidate?”
Emerson Watkins and Annie Lorber look at each other, but say nothing. I wonder what that’s about.
Mooney looks at me. “If you don’t want the job, why did you say you’d take it?”
“I thought you needed me.”
They look at each other. Some are indignant, others puzzled.
Annie Lorber says, “Why would you volunteer to do a job you hate?”
“To protect my country.”
Director Scott says, “Good answer. You’ve got the job.”
Mooney says, “He needs to be interviewed first. There are procedures.”
Senator Scherer says, “Fuck the procedures. He’s got us by the balls.”
Director Scott says, “There are no other candidates, Preston. You know it, I know it, he knows it.”
Mooney says, “The committee has spent a great deal of time and effort preparing a list of questions to determine the candidate’s suitability for the job!”
Sherm says, “Those are
Mooney bangs the gavel and raises his voice. “I’m the government liaison to Sensory Resources. I report directly to the President! I
Sherm says, “Creed already answered the only two questions that count. He hates the job and loves his country. Anything else you ask is as helpful as whale shit on a hockey rink.”
Mooney says, “These questions need to be asked. It’s part of the process. His responses will be sealed in his permanent file.”
“Maybe you can just look up all the shit I did in elementary school,” I say, trying to be helpful. “The principal assured me it would all go on my permanent record.”
“Question number one,” Mooney says, looking at his notes. “Which political party do you endorse?”
“Neither,” I say.
“No one’s neutral. You either lean one way or the other.”
“I kill Democrats and Republicans alike. And anyone else who needs killing. And yes, that includes religious persuasions, in case that’s your next question.”
Mooney frowns and reads from his sheet. “Question number two. What is your religious preference?”
His face turns red.
He scans three pages of questions and finally comes up with this:
“Have you ever killed a man?”
The committee members look at each other, then at me, then burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Mooney says.
“You want me to ask him a
“Kill them all.”
Mooney blurts out, “What is this, a joke? The secret service is the most highly-trained security force on earth!”
“They’re easy targets,” I say.
“Why?”
“Their job is to protect the President.”
“So?”
“Who’s protecting them?”
“You’re hired!” Director Scott shouts.
Mooney says, “Wait. You’d kill innocent, loyal security personnel based on a rumor?”
“Who wouldn’t?”
Mooney’s face looks like he tasted shit pie and didn’t care for it.
“I have two quick questions, if you don’t mind,” Annie Lorber says.
I look at her.
She says, “Have you ever heard the name Tara Siegel?”
“Yes.”
“And did she kill my father?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“That’s three questions.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You said two quick questions. I answered them. Now you’ve asked a third.”
“I’ll ask all the fucking questions I want!”
“Thank you, Miss Lorber.”
“And you will answer them, if-”
She stops herself.
I smile.
“If I want this job?”
11.
ANNIE LORBER’S SMOLDERING eyes and angry expression tell me all I need to know about the support I can expect from her. And the way Emerson’s patting her wrist to calm her down tells me their relationship has progressed beyond the boardroom. So that’s two who’d say yes to killing me, should it come to a vote.
The others are harder to read.
Emerson speaks up.
“Mr. Creed, Annie’s father and mine were murdered years ago. You just informed us Tara Siegel was involved.”
To the committee he says, “Have any of you heard the name Tara Siegel?”
It appears not.
Emerson continues. “Tara was the Donovan Creed of the east coast at one time, meaning she worked for Sensory in that area. It’s easy to piece together what happened. She wanted to take over the program back then, the same way Lou Kelly wanted to take over recently: by killing the top people. My point is this: No one in this room has heard of Tara Siegel, and Annie and I only heard of her very recently. And she’s been dead for years. Killed, apparently, by another of our Sensory operatives.”
I try to maintain a poker face in all business encounters, but that comment nearly raises my eyebrows. Because other than me, only five people in the world are supposed to know who killed Tara Siegel.
And two of them are dead.
“So?” I say.
“And none of us knew who Darwin was until Lou killed him.”
