'Not at all. You have nothing to apologize for.'
She yanked open the car door. 'I'm just here to drive,' she said, some of the words lost in the sound of doors opening and closing.
'Sorry to ruin your day off.'
Pegeen shrugged.
'Happy in your work?' Becker asked.
'Just fine, thank you,' she said. She tossed her baseball cap into the backseat and put on a soft brown felt hat with a large floppy brim that slouched over most of her face.
'Very nice,' he said.
Pegeen maneuvered the Ford out of the parking lot.
'What do you call that hat?' Becker asked pleasantly.
'Ethel,' Pegeen said. She laughed abruptly, as if she had caught herself by surprise.
Becker paused long enough to show he recognized the joke. 'I meant the style. Does it have a name?'
'It's called a Trilby,' she said.
'I like it,' Becker said.
'Oh, good.' Pegeen got a receipt for the parking charges, then turned towards 1-65, which would take them to Springville.
'Do you need anything before we begin? Any bladder problems to take care of?'
'Just that prostate thing, but nothing I can do about it here,' Becker said.
Pegeen turned and looked at him directly. Becker grinned in what he hoped was a winning manner.
'Special Agent Becker, we have a two-hour drive to Springville. Sir, I think it will go more smoothly for both of us if we don't try to be pleasant.'
'Yikes,' said Becker.
'Sir?'
'Step on it,' he said.
Perhaps it was the silence, or perhaps it was the lulling of the road, but after about an hour of driving Becker thought he detected a slight easing in Agent Haddad's posture. Her knuckles, which never left the proper ten minutes-to-two position, had relaxed enough so that blood was flowing back into them.
'I hope I wasn't rude,' she said without preamble.
Becker thought for a moment before answering. 'No.
You could call it direct, but not rude. I'm sure I deserved that in some way. I usually do.'
'It wasn't you,' she said. 'Not really-well, somebut mostly it was just me. I thought maybe you don't drive, but you do have a license.'
'Have we just changed the topic?'
'It's just that it seems more efficient for you to rent a car to drive to Springville by yourself That would allow me to do the kind of work I'm trained for.'
'How long are you in the service?'
'A year and a half.'
'It doesn't surprise you that the newest agents always get the shit work, does it?'
'The youngestfemale agents do, I have noticed, yes.'
'Ah,' said Becker. 'Double discrimination. And then you have to put up with me to boot. No wonder you're pissed off.'
'I'm just a little curious why they want to take a college graduate, a woman who has passed the Bureau's rather rigorous training-you would agree it is rather rigorous, wouldn't you?'
'Rigorous,' Becker said.
'I have a master's degree, for that matter. And nearly sixteen months of active service to my credit. Why would they want to make me a taxi driver for a straightforward delivery? It wastes my whole day.'
'Shoots the hell out of mine, too,' Becker said.
'Yes, but you're going to Springville for some purpose, presumably, not just along for the ride.'
'You really don't know why they assigned an agent to drive me there?'
'No.'
'What do you know about me?'
'Nothing. Should I? Did you used to be famous?'
Becker laughed.
'You're not shitting me, are you, Special Agent Had dad? You didn't bone up on my file? You didn't ask around?'
'No. Should I have?'
'So you really don't know why you're here. No wonder you're mad.'
'Why am I here?'
'To keep an eye on me,' Becker said.
'Why do I need to do that?'
'Because I'm the big bad wolf,' Becker said.
Pegeen looked at him to see how best to read his remark.
His voice had been flat and serious, and she studied his face for any clues that he was joking. He was faintly smiling but it looked to Pegeen like a very rueful smile, an expression of deep regret.
'You don't look like one to me,' she said.
'I'm wearing my sheepskin,' Becker said. He turned to her and his smile widened but she thought his eyes the most mournful she had ever seen. 'I told you it was too tight… And I'm about to pop out of it.'
Pegeen tried to laugh, not knowing what else to do.
By the time they reached the prison Becker was sunk so deeply within himself that Pegeen wondered if he was still with her at all. She parked the car in a slot reserved for prison personnel and waited for Becker to get out.
From her vantage point behind the wheel she was too close to the prison to see much but stone. A parking lot stretched away on one side, a well-tended lawn on the other. It could have been an industrial plant, a factory, a warehouse.
'This is it, sir,' Pegeen said.
Becker was slouched, staring straight ahead as if reading patterns in the stone that faced their car. His arms were crossed tightly on his chest, as if he were cold. Or something else… No longer distracted by the driving, Pegeen took a long look at his face. He seemed oblivious to her presence. There was a darkness in his facade that Pegeen knew but refused to recognize at first. She cleared her throat, moved about on her seat, hoping to bring him out of it, but he was sunk into the emotion. Eventually she had to admit that he looked like nothing else so much as frightened.
'We're here, sir,' she said finally.
'I know,' Becker said, still facing forward. 'We've been here a long time.'
Pegeen considered asking him what he meant, then decided to let it go.
'Is-uh-is everything all right?'
'I'm just scared,' he said, matter-of-factly.
Pegeen did not know how to respond. She could not remember an adult male who had ever admitted to fearing anything. Instinctively she wanted to reach out to comfort him, but this was the FBI, they were both agents, they were on duty, Becker was a grown man… she touched his shoulder.
'I'm sure it will be all right,' she said.
'Promise?' His tone was boyish, but with a note of humor that said he was aware of how he sounded.
Still not turning to face her, Becker took hold of the hand that rested on his shoulder.
'Do you want to talk about it?' she asked.
Becker shook his head, continuing to stare at the stones in front of them. Resisting the urge to draw him closer and comfort him with an embrace, Pegeen sat perfectly still, letting him hold her hand.
Slowly Becker seemed to change, or rather his hand seemed to change. He did not move it, there was no more pressure in his grip, no alteration in the position of his fingers or his palm, but gradually Pegeen became aware of a growing heat. It was as if he were transferring energy to his hand by just thinking about it. Or perhaps
