Shadow of a Broken Man

personally. He told me something like this could happen. I should have listened harder.'

'Then you blame yourself for Abu's death?'

'That's right.'

'I think your guilt is misplaced.'

'Don't patronize me, Tal.'

'All right. Feel guilty if it helps you.'

My first reaction was anger. Then something happened which I could not understand and which frightened me; for a split second I thought I was losing my mind. I heard a sound that was not a sound; a single soft, dizzying chime inside my mind that cleared away the din of jumbled, jagged thoughts, leaving in its echoing wake an absolute stillness. Into that silence came a voice that was not a voice, an eerie sensation of speech without sound, a series of vibrations echoing in my subconscious and delivering a message I could understand and accept: Abu's death was not my fault; by the time I'd been in a position to warn Abu, it was already too late.

I could feel the guilt being lifted from me, to be replaced by a kind of warmth and gentle sadness that allowed me to genuinely grieve for my friend. I wiped away tears.

'Frederickson?'

'Huh?' I'd forgotten all about Tal.

'Are you all right? You look pale.'

'I'm all right.'

'Do you want to leave?'

'No. Not just yet,' I said distantly. I felt strangely disoriented, but at peace.

'Did you finish your investigation to your satisfaction?' Tal asked quietly.

'I'm finished.'

'There would appear to be a slight semantic difference.'

'No semantics involved. I'm just off the case.' Any investigating I did from that point on would be done strictly in secret. I had to find the Fosters.

'Don't you want to find Abu's killer?'

'Yes, but not if it means more people will die.'

Tal quietly cleared his throat. 'The Secretary General would like to see you continue the investigation. I think you'll find his terms generous.'

I looked up, surprised. 'Why me?'

'You're the only logical choice. You're already deeply involved; you know the case.'

'Why don't you use your own people?'

'Because the Secretary General would like this investigation to be carried on outside of regular channels, for obvious reasons.'

'Lippitt was right,' I said, looking away. 'People get hurt when you start mentioning Rafferty's name.'

'That phase of it may be over; there's been too much publicity over Abu's murder. But more people could die in any case. Consider: You're undoubtedly being watched and followed in an effort to see what you turn up. If you cut off your investigation, the others may continue on their own. They won't ask questions as gently as you do. You've seen the results of their work.'

I decided to walk around the suggestion and look at it awhile longer. 'It seems like pretty dirty business for a Secretary General to involve himself in.'

Tal considered it, then said, 'Would you agree that Rolfe Thaag is the most effective Secretary General the U.N. has ever had?'

'He's good.'

'Well, he's only as 'good' as the information he receives. In the world of international politics and diplomacy, information is the most valuable commodity. Facts are badly needed here if Abu's murderer is to be brought to justice. And, of course, we want to know if Rafferty is here at the United Nations, and if so, what he's doing.' He paused, drumming his fingers silently on the back of the pew in front of him. 'Will you work for us?'

The crowd had shifted again; the Europeans had taken over. I pretended to mull the offer over, even though I knew what I was going to say. The case couldn't be closed for me until I learned the Fosters were safe. If I was going to look for them, I might as well be paid while I was doing it. 'All right,' I said. 'But I'll drop it again like a hot potato if I think there's good reason to.'

'Fair enough,' Tal said easily, removing a roll of bills from his pocket. He casually peeled off five hundred dollars and handed me the money. 'This will be a retainer.'

'You'll get my regular rates,' I said, pocketing the cash. 'How can I get in touch with you easily?'

He handed me a card. 'You can reach me-or someone who knows where I am-at that number, twenty-four hours a day.' He looked at me intently. 'I appreciate the fact that this is a very dangerous assignment for you.'

I knew it was time to steer the conversation into other channels. 'Yeah. Tell me, what's an American doing as the Secretary General's top assistant? I wouldn't think that would go down too well with about ninety-five percent of the membership.'

Tal smiled wryly. 'Now it is the Americans who complain the loudest. In any case, I was appointed, not elected. The Secretary General finds me useful.'

'There are a lot of Americans who think you're a traitor to your country.'

'That's sad,' he said quickly, with a hint of feeling. 'Americans are no different from any other people in that they don't like to be criticized-'

'Especially by another American who happens to be working for the Secretary General of the United Nations.'

'At the risk of sounding pompous, I'll tell you that I consider my constituency to be the people of the world. And myself a citizen of the world. If you'd grown up in Europe-say, Norway-as I did, you wouldn't find that so hard to understand. Americans are extremely chauvinistic, you know.'

'Are you really that divorced from any feeling as an American?'

He smiled. 'I'll admit that, at times, I feel little tugs of pride, shame, or anger at being an American, but I generally try to fight such emotions; they're not conducive to good work habits, and I honestly reject patriotism intellectually. There is no logic to patriotism in either a practical or a historical sense.' He paused, smiled again. 'Does that answer your question?'

'When this is all over, we'll have to sit down and discuss it some more.'

'I'd enjoy that, Dr. Frederickson.'

'Assistants to the Secretary General are allowed to call me Mongo.'

'Okay, Mongo.'

We rose together to leave. I was halfway out of the pew when I saw the bald-headed man striding up the center aisle. Lippitt saw me a half-second later and stiffened. He glanced back and forth between Tal and me, then abruptly walked out of the chapel.

'Who was that?' Tal asked. 'He seemed to know you.'

'That's Mr. Lippitt.'

'The one who says he shot Rafferty?'

'One and the same,' I said, sliding the rest of the way out of the pew. 'I'll be in touch.'

11

The quiet, solemn organ music from the chapel faded away as I followed Lippitt out of the U.N. to where the city was playing a different sound: the mad, jumbled, cacophonous roar that was the urban symphony. Lippitt was waiting for me outside on the plaza. The noon sun was hot and bright, welcoming me back to the world of the living.

'I want to talk to you,' Lippitt said tersely.

'Okay.' I walked to the edge of the concourse, leaned on a concrete parapet, and watched the traffic flow up