'Sherry.'
'That your real name?'
'Whatever, Jeff. Let's go. The clock is running. Your hour's already begun.'
And off they went.
After his hour with Sherry was over, closer to an hour and a half actually, Michael Sullivan didn't have to give her any money. Not a thousand, not a nickel. All he had to do was show Sherry his picture collection – and a scalpel he had brought along.
Red Light, Green Light.
Hell of a game.
Chapter 33
TWO DAYS AFTER she walked out on us, Nana was back at the house, thank God and the heavenly choir, who had to be watching over us. The whole family, but especially me, had learned a lesson about how much we loved Nana and needed her; how many small, often unnoticed and thankless things she did for us every day; how totally indispensable she was, and the sacrifices she made.
Not that Nana ever really let us forget her contributions under ordinary circumstances. It was just that she was even better than she thought she was.
When she waltzed in the kitchen door that morning, she caught Jannie eating Cocoa Puffs and let her have it in her own inimitable style: 'My name is Janelle Cross. I am a substance abuser,' Nana said.
Jannie raised both arms over her head in surrender; then she went and emptied the chocolate cereal right into the trash. She looked Nana in the eye, said, 'If you're in a vehicle traveling at the speed of light, what happens when you switch on the headlights?' Then she hugged Nana before she could try to answer the unanswerable.
I went and hugged Nana too and was smart enough to keep my mouth shut but my powder dry.
When I got home from work that night, my grandmother was waiting for me in the kitchen. Uh-oh, I thought, but the second she saw me, Nana put her arms out for a hug, which surprised me. 'Come,' she said.
When I was in her arms, she continued, 'I'm sorry, Alex. I had no right to run away and leave you all like that. I was in the wrong. I missed all of you as soon as I was in the cab with Abraham.'
'You had every right -,' I started to say.
Nana cut me off. 'Now don't argue with me, Alex. For once, quit while you're ahead.'
I did as I was told, and shut up.
Chapter 34
BIG STUFF – NOW HERE WE GO. On Friday morning of that week, at a few minutes past nine o'clock, I found myself all alone in the alcove outside Director Ron Burns's office on the ninth floor of the Hoover Building, FBI headquarters.
The director's assistant, Tony Woods, peeked his round, deceptively cherubic face out of Burns's outer office.
'Hey, Alex, there you are. Why don't you come on in. Good job the other day on Kentucky Avenue. Under the circumstances especially. The director's been wanting to talk to you about it and some other things he has on his mind. I heard Ned Mahoney's going to make a full recovery.'
Terrific job – I almost got myself killed, I thought as I followed Woods into the inner office. Ned Mahoney got shot in the neck. He could have died too.
The director was there waiting for me in his sanctum sanctorum. Ron Burns has a kind of funny way about him: He's a hard-charging guy, but he's learned to make meaningless small talk and smile a lot before he gets down to business. That's pretty much a requirement in Washington, especially if you have to deal with as many sneaky politicians as he does. Like many type-A business-minded men, though, Burns is pretty awful at small talk. But we chatted about local sports and the weather for a good ninety seconds before we got into the real reason for my visit.
'So what's on your mind these days?' Burns asked. 'Tony said you wanted to see me, so I take it this isn't purely a social call.
'I have a few things to go over with you too. A new assignment for starters: a serial up in Maine and Vermont of all places.'
I nodded and let Burns rattle on. But suddenly I was feeling tense and a little unsure of myself. Finally, I had to cut him off. 'There's no good way to ease into this, Director, so I'll just say it. I'm here to tell you that I'm going to be leaving the Bureau. This is very difficult, and it's embarrassing. I appreciate everything you've done for me, but I've made a decision for my family. It's final. I'm not going to change my mind.'
' Shit,' Burns said, and he hit his desk hard with the palm of his hand. 'Damn it all to hell, Alex. Why would you leave us now? It makes no sense to me. You're on a very fast track at the Bureau. You know that, right? Tell you what, I'm not going to let you do it.'
'Nothing you can do to stop me,' I told him. 'I'm sorry, but I'm sure I'm doing the right thing. I've thought this through a hundred times in the last few days.'
Burns stared into my eyes, and he must have seen something resolute there, because he stood up behind his desk. Then he came around it with his hand outstretched.
'You're making a terrible mistake, and an atrociously bad career move, but I can tell there's no point in arguing with you. It's been a real pleasure, Alex, and an education,' he said as we shook hands. We made some more uncomfortable chitchat for the next couple of minutes. Then I got up to leave his office.
As I reached the door, Burns called, 'Alex, I hope I can still call on you from time to time. I can, can't I?'
I laughed in spite of myself, because the remark was so typical of Burns's never-say-die attitude. 'You can call on me eventually. But why don't you give it a few months, okay?'
'Couple of days anyway' said Burns, and at least he winked when he said it.
We both laughed, and suddenly it sunk in – my brief, somewhat illustrious career with the FBI was over and done with.
Also, I was unemployed.
Chapter 35
I'M NOT A BIG FAN of looking back on the stages of my life with anything like regret, and anyway, my time at the FBI had been mostly very good and probably even valuable in the long run. I'd learned things, accomplished a fair amount – like stopping a Russian Mafia psycho called the Wolf. And I'd made some good friends – the head of Hostage Rescue, maybe even the director – which couldn't hurt and might even help me out someday.
Still, I wasn't prepared for the incredible feeling of relief I experienced as I carried a cardboard box stuffed full of my possessions out of the FBI building that morning. It felt as if at least a couple of hundred pounds of dead weight had been lifted off my shoulders, a burden I hadn't even known was there. I didn't know for sure if I'd just made a good decision, but it sure felt like it.
No more monsters, human or otherwise, I was thinking to myself.
No more monsters ever.
I headed toward home at a little before noon. Free at last. I had the car windows open and was listening to Bob Marley's 'No Woman, No Cry,' the words 'everything's gonna be all right' blasting from the radio. I was singing along. I didn't have a plan for what I was going to do next, not even for the rest of the day – and it felt pretty terrific. Actually, I liked the idea of doing nothing for a while, and I was beginning to think I might be pretty good at
