time that day and walked into the water until it was up to his neck, feeling as if some other power were driving him, as if he were no longer responsible for his actions, not even to himself.
He could hear cars driving past on the other side of the screen of trees, even hear when some of them automatically slowed at the sight of a police car, but his eyes and his mind were out over the water, away from civilization, skimming the surface of the water; sailing up to the heavens as birds caught his eye; flitting to the forest on the far shore, where he could barely discern the movements of muskrats puttering around the edge of the lake and then pushing off at last into the water, their furry heads breaking the surface and leaving a long, serpentine wake behind them as they swam slowly in his direction. His mind drifted, trying to calm itself, trying to focus on the innocence of nature's diurnal life, wincing and recoiling when it looked back on the past hour's work, yearning to soar as concentrated but thoughtless as the hawk, which still wheeled over the reservoir.
When he had regained enough composure to feel thormughly silly standing neck-deep in a lake, he rose at last from the reservoir, scraped the water from himself with the side of his hand as if cleaning a windshield, dressed, and drove slowly to work.
22
For a man accustomed to suspicion by profession, jealousy had hit Becker with a surprising force. He would have thought himself to be inured to such doubts about his own wife, but that was only because he had loved her with such confidence. Their marriage, he had come to believe, was something special, a relationship immune to common failings because of their long exposure to the single life. Before their marriage they had both tasted what pleasures there were outside of monogamy, and both had found them ultimately lacking. Novelty for its own sake was no longer new for either of them and they had come to each other with a sense not only of mutual love but of relief that they were freed from the strictures and demands of the single life. They exchanged breadth of experience for depth of understanding and it was a trade they made knowingly and gladly. They had talked about it as they talked about everything in their lives, and they had luxuriated in the shared serenity of their love. Which was not to say that they took each other for granted. Both of them proceeded as if living together were part of an extended courtship, and both still made the extra effort to do and say the things that most pleased the other. They were mature enough to appreciate what they had in each other. They were actively in love. Or so Becker had thought. Now he was forced to recon sider everything.
Karen had lied about her relationship with Kom and she was a woman who would never lie without very good reason. There were probably alternate explanations to the obvious one, but Becker could think of none of them.
He was in the paradoxical position of the jilted lover-the only one who could ease his pain was the one who had caused it. And he dared not ask Karen directly because he feared that she would lie to him again-and he was desperate enough to believe her. He would turn from wronged husband to fool, from innocent victim to the classic deserving cuckold. Not only his love had been assaulted but his pride as well.
With self-disgust and a deep sense of shame, he turned to a private detective. When he confronted her, he wanted to know the facts. He was prepared to forgive her, to work even harder to make her happy-but he had to know the truth, and he no longer trusted her to give it to him.
His quandary, however, was to protect his wife. If she were the object of an investigation, it could slip out in the myriad ways that rumors did. A woman in her position in the Bureau had to be Caesar's wife, beyond even the suggestion of impropriety. It could not be known that Karen was being watched; it could not be known that her husband had ordered the surveillance. Becker ordered the tail to be put on Stanley Kom.
Karen was deep in the analysis of a number of unsolved bombings that had taken place over a fifteen-year span. Three people had been killed in the bombings, many wounded, and hundreds of millions of dollars had been lost in the explosions. Karen, goaded by Deputy Director Hatcher, was attempting to establish the case that the bombings were linked, which would make the bomber a serial killer by the Bureau's definition. There was little doubt in Karen's mind that Hatcher wanted her Serial Killings department to become involved so that he could justify putting Becker on the case. Becker despised Hatcher and had refused to ever work directly for the man again. Karen knew that he hated Hatcher for good reason; she also knew that Hatcher wanted to use Becker for good reason. As a high-level administrator she had a duty to her superior. As a woman she had a duty to the man she loved. Performing the calculus that stabilized these two duties was a difficulty with which she had struggled almost since meeting Becker. Being made head of the department had only increased the problem.
She took Kom's call as a welcome distraction. 'I know I shouldn't bother you at work, but I really needed to hear a friendly voice,' he said. She could hear the smile in his tone, but the sadness, too.
'What's wrong?'
'Oh, Tovah, of course. You don't know how lucky you are, married to a man who you get along with so well.'
'We have our rocky times,' Karen said, then hastily added, 'But I know that I'm lucky.'
'No relationship is perfect, I didn't mean that,' Kom said. 'I know there must be times when you wish John were different in some way… I mean, everyone wishes that at some time, don't they? Or am I just crazy?'
'No, everyone wishes that sometimes.'
'But Tovah… Christ, I get so lonely.'
'Oh, Stanley. I'm sorry.'
'I can't talk to her. Her paranoia is bad enough, but then I can't trust her either. If I say something private to her 1 don't know who else is going to hear it. One of her lovers? Can you imagine how that feels, thinking maybe she's lying in bed with another man, laughing and telling him some secret I told her?'
'I'm so sorry, Stanley.'
'Who in hell am I supposed to talk to, Karen? I have feelings that I need to express, you know what it's like, you have to share your life or it's almost like you're not living it at all. Who can I share with?
I've tried John, but he just doesn't seem to want my friendship, not on the level I need.'
'John takes time…' she started.
'Who can I talk to, Karen? Who can I talk to?'
'You can talk to me, Stanley,' Karen said. She did not see how she could say otherwise. She heard the catch in his breath and knew that he was moved.
'Bless you,' he said. 'You're a wonderful woman. A wonderful, wonderful woman. I'll tell you, Karen, the few times we've been able to talk the last few weeks are the moments I'm hanging on to. If I didn't have those, if I didn't have that outlet at least- You're saving my life here. '
'I'm glad I can help, I wish there were something.
'Just let me talk to you. You are so compassionate. I mean it, I really mean it. You have such a good heart, it comes out, it just radiates, it affects everyone around you. I can feel the warmth just being in the same room, it's like, you're like a stove, Karen, you're so warm.'
Karen laughed. 'Stanley, you're just lonely.'
'God yes, I am, that's true, but-what are you saying, that I wouldn't feel your warmth otherwise? You don't know, how would you know what your presence feels like? You're the source of it, not the recipient.
I'm telling you that you're a godsend, you're a lifesaver… Listen, I'm going nuts again, have you been listening to me?'
'Yes…
'Do I sound nuts or not? What is there about talking to you? I just crack open like a ripe melon and start spilling my insides when I'm with you. Like nothing is too intimate, nothing is too personal, I feel that I can say anything at all to you and you won't judge me and you'll understand.'
Karen noticed her secretary pausing in her doorway, an eyebrow arched in his habitual request for permission to enter. Karen turned just slightly away from the door an. d the secretary immediately interpreted the request for privacy and withdrew.
Kom detected the lapse in her attention as if he were standing in the room. 'Listen, did I get you at a bad time, can you talk?'
'Well…'
