Heathern Page 19

  "You and Susie are involved in this?"

  He set his cup down, spilling coffee into his saucer. "What sort of tricks did Macaffrey teach you-?"

  "Call it a hunch. What project are you talking about?"

  "You know as I do that were it not for the problem in Long Island there'd be no need for the Army to be in New York anymore. Each year they become more maladjusted and more hardened toward the populace they've been paid by Thatcher to protect-"

  "This has to do with something?" I asked.

  "With everything," he said, rubbing his eyes with his hands. "It's so typical, isn't it, that for the past thirty years each new President makes the ones who came before look so much better, no matter what they've done? Even that fool Charlie. By managing to get himself nailed up as he did, his example convinced Susan that were our own huddled masses allowed to breathe free they'd swim across the river, march through the streets-carrying heads on pikes for dramatic effect, undoubtedly-and, upon catch ing our employers, hang them by their feet, Mussolini-style. Soon after we started working there, she told me that an essential aspect of my job was to make certain that the Army would remain in New York for so long as she was alive. Precautions, she said."

  "Hasn't the Army grown to appreciate its duties?"

  They never imagined they'd have such a time of it. No one in the Defense Department foresaw a local insurrection turning into a prolonged guerrilla war going on just upstream from Washington. A living room war in the truest sense. Army steps up their operations, the insurgents step up theirs. Aerial bombardment has been ongoing over there for the past eleven months. That's ears only-"

  "You can hear it at night," I said. "They thought people would think it was firecrackers?"

  "Probably. The point is, by rights one-third of the Island's estimated postaccident population should be dead by now. After a specified number of years, with a steady attrition rate dealt upon a fixed population, it would seem that prediction could be made concerning a not-too-distant settlement, or victory. There'd be stragglers, certainly, not unlike those Japanese soldiers in the Pacific that so impress Thatcher. But were nature to take its course the mopping-up could be probably completed within ten years at most. I pointed this out to Susan. Didn't matter. She's crazier than he is, you know."

  "What did the two of you come up with?" I asked.

  "I came up with it," he said. "A plan by which the Army would never run out of opposition. Jensen oversaw the plan. I oversaw Jensen. She had, and has, no desire to know facts. They're inessential to her beliefs."

  "So will you tell me about this plan?" He nodded, and sipped what remained of his coffee.

  "A traffic network was already in place. Jensen was familiar with Latin American affairs. All that was required was a readjustment. Fall, chips, where you may. At the time a select group was chosen who might, in the event of inadvertently revealed facts, be held responsible-"

  "Otsuka was to take the blame?"

  "At the time, we had but a limited understanding of his true influence within his country. Our fault. You kill as many birds as you can with the stones you're given."

  "But he wasn't actually involved?"

  "Of course not," said Bernard, chewing on one of his nails so intently that I thought I should order breakfast for him. "No problem, early on. Suddenly he becomes the key to settling our difficulties, or should I say Thatcher's difficulties, with Japan. Everything started coming loose at the seams-"

  "What was readjusted, Bernard?"

  "Cargo," he said. "The network continued transporting cargo from south to north along standard routes. We shipped a different product."

  "What?"

  "Thatcher's xenophobia is an awful thing," he said, resting his chin in his hand as he propped his elbow on the tabletop. "These immigration quotas he's insisted upon for the indefinite future. Can you imagine the potential going to waste, forced to remain in the wilds? For better or worse, Joanna, America is still better than most. Even now half the world would move here if they could. Granted, that says more about the world than about America. Still, I knew there had to be a way to do what she wanted and give at least a few to have their chance as well ..."

  "You're moving people?"

  He nodded. "In small boats. They have supercharged engines and Stealth siding to elude Navy patrols. The Coast Guard never touches anything of ours and never has, those we don't worry about."

  "Shipping them from Guyana to Connecticut."

  "That's one route," he said. "Each boat carries from seventy to one hundred and fifty-five, depending upon the layout of the decks. It's a three-day trip, generally-"

  "Three days and a twenty-five percent loss during the trip," I said. His fingertip bled, as if he were stricken with an errant stigmata. "Jensen went to Mystic not long ago, I gather, or one of the other ports. A shipment came in while he was there. He went to inspect the cargo. Is that what happened?" Bernard appeared more than unnerved that l'd become as accomplished at inference as Lester. With idle, unwounded fingers he straightened his necktie. "Then he threatened to go public?"

  "It was his own fault," said Bernard. "You have to delegate responsibility, you have to. Like you, he didn't always follow the soundest advice he heard."

  "Who was he going to tell?" I asked. "Who couldn't you have bought off? Who would have cared enough?" He didn't answer. "Thatcher? He doesn't know-?"

  "She told me he'd disapprove," Bernard said. "She says it's as important that he never find out as it is that the Army not leave. That's easy enough to accomplish as long as everyone behaves as they should behave. When Jensen developed this newfound aversion to his project he let me know how he felt. Perhaps I didn't treat his opinion with as much respect as he believed it deserved. Before he left for Chicago he let his feelings slip in such a way that it became evident to me he was preparing to tell Thatcher, upon his return. At my request Gus killed him for being a spy for Otsuka. At least, that's what I told Gus." He tapped his fingers against the side of his head. "That excuse served as well for Avi, when Gus's turn came."

  "Why did you drag Lester into this?" I asked. "Why was it necessary?"

  "He insisted upon leading Thatcher down roads there was no need for him to be traveling. And you're well aware of my doubts concerning that entire operation. Doomed from the start. It seemed a convenient way to kill two birds with one stone, and I don't mean that literally-"

  "Killed or driven mad," I said.

  "Certainly not the former," he said. "Not necessarily the latter, but-"

  "You enjoyed doing that to him, Bernard. Why? How did he hurt you?"

  "I didn't like what he was doing to you," Bernard said. "I never meant that he should be killed. I'm not Thatcher, for God's sake."

  The weather that morning was winterlike, in the traditional sense, as it once had always been in November. It no longer felt appropriate to the season. I said nothing, neither denying nor agreeing; there was little that Bernard so despised as much as silence.

  "I'm not Thatcher, Joanna," he repeated, as if it were one of Avi's less obscure mantras, a chant with which he might heal, a litany to sway the hearts of the heathen; a song sung silently in the brain, reminding him of where he'd been, and who he was with, when first he heard it.

  "Let me see if I understand, then," I said. "I suppose much of the cargo comes from South America, but I can't see Dryco limiting itself. Where else, Bernard? The Caribbean, I'm sure. Africa? Asia?"

  "People will do anything to come to America."

  "When they already live in the Bronx?" I asked, recalling that white van's red cross. "When they reach America what happens?"

  "They're transferred into smaller boats-"

  "Those who survived."

  "Those," he said. "They're offloaded in stages at night, along the North Fork. Then the boats go back-"

  "Leaving them on the beach to enjoy their new life in America?"

  "Joanna-"

  "What's the survival rate for the first week, Bernard?"r />
  "Keep your voice down-"

  "It's not only men, I'm sure. Or adults. I'd think it'd be most cost-effective to transfer whole families. Any package deals offered?" He looked away from me. "Weekend rates? Can't you see what you're doing?"

  "What chance do they have where they were?" he asked. "What opportunity? They have a chance here, Joanna. They really do. The best always come out of it all right. What chance would they otherwise have?"

  "Have you ever seen them being brought in?" I asked. "Have you?"

  "It's an untenable position I'm in, Joanna," he said. "You bring profit out of loss when you can. Draw good from bad. You know."

  His words sounded so rational, so heavenly, that had I not seen the face from which they issued, nor known the act, I might have been confused as to whose spirit spoke, to what purpose, to the living. "You've managed to keep the Army from discovering this arrangement? I shouldn't think they'd think much of it."

  "Several commanders in useful positions have enough of a notion to take their payment and keep quiet," he said; taking another drink from his cup, his face sagged, discovering his coffee had cooled. "They believe it's useful, having a training field so close. Prepares the boys for anything, one told me-"

  "Have the shipments stopped-?"

  "Certainly not," he said.

  "With Susie's knowledge?"

  "With her blessing," he said. It was nearly nine, I saw, reading the clock on the wall; almost time to go. There were several people I still needed to see. "Normality proceeds," he continued. "The caravans bark, the dogs move on. I'm sorry, Joanna."

  "I am, too-"

  "It strikes me that you've grown into your position," he said. The restaurant began emptying out; the food was nearly gone, and they would receive no more until noontime. Bernard glanced at the window, at the multitudes passing. "Oh, Joanna," he said. "The world would be such a lovely place without these people in it."

  Returning to the office, I found all progressing as it always did: secretaries typed memos, mailroom staff brought deliveries, comptrollers oversaw the growth of ever-increasing numbers, bookkeepers peered at their terminals, assistants stood round the coffeemakers, pouring fresh cups. From seven continents came calls and faxes and messages, and the Dryden Corporation continued upon its appointed task, to remake the world in its image, to join what was once apart, to separate what was meant to be together. Avi sat on one of the sofas in Thatcher's waiting room perusing magazines, awaiting his cue. He didn't see me when I came in; he stood when he heard me speak, his manners, as ever, unfailing.

  "Thatcher's in?" I asked Lilly, his secretary. With a jerk of her head she nodded toward his door, and continued typing at her keyboard, her eyes set upon her screen. She wore plastic splints attached to her arms, so that her wrists could have more support, if no less pain, while she typed.

  "He and Mrs. D," she said. Before I went in I paused to see what Avi had to say for himself, and to say what I needed to him.

  "You're all right?" he asked. "I was concerned."

  "I'm sure. How's Thatcher and the little woman?"

  "Celebratory in a quiet way," he said. "They're going over some new projects, I believe. You'll be told shortly, no doubt-"

  "I'm giving notice today," I said. "I'm leaving, Avi."

  His expression remained as stolid as it ever was; his eyes alone revealed the surprise he felt. He cocked his head to one side, as if adjusting for deafness, and knowing where best he could ascertain what he heard. "When?"

  "As soon as I quit," I said. "I'll be here another hour, maybe."

  "What'll you do?"

  "I have to leave, Avi. This sort of thing isn't what I'm meant for. I'll be fine-"

  "What they did to Macaffrey," he said, forgetting his presence at the event. "It wasn't right."

  "You were doing your job," I said. "I don't hold it against you.

  He shifted his weight from foot to foot as he stood there, now seeming almost anxious to break away, to begin another conversation with another person, or perhaps only to return to his work. "It does seem he was something other than what we were led to believe."

  "He was," I said.

  "You'll have to give up your apartment," he said. "Where'll you stay? Joanna, you can't live on the street-"

  "I'm going away for a while," I said. "It's hard to say when I'll be back in town. It won't be very long, but-"

  "Will I see you again?"

  "I don't know," I said. "Perhaps you shouldn't expect to." There were moments, during the time I knew Avi, when his transcendent enclosure-his aura, one might put it-would without warning disappear, leaving him as helpless as an oyster removed from its shell. He knew such a moment, just then, and said nothing; I knew how he felt. "It's my life, Avi. You say I have to accept it for what it is, and it's not here. Not anymore."

  "People adapt," he said. "It takes time-"

  "They try to adapt," I said. "Some do better than others. Give my best to your father. I'm sorry I never met him."

  "It's as well," Avi said. "He wouldn't have liked you."

  "There's something I'm sure you know that I need to tell you," I said. He stared into my eyes, for once, possibly, not seeing in them a reflection of himself. "When the moment comes, Jake'll kill you. He knows what you did."

  "I am aware of that," he said. "I don't want to know when it'll be before it happens-"

  "I wouldn't tell you if I could," I said. "Just one day you'll not even know he's there."

  "There's a better way?" he asked, and shrugged. I kissed him and walked toward Thatcher's door. "Take care," he said. "Find peace."

  "I have."

  As I entered Thatcher's office I saw the Drydens behind his desk, she perched next to him; their feet touched, propped upon its surface. There was nothing so heartening as seeing two people together who so personified the Platonic ideal, that those whose souls were split apart in the life before birth might, through predestination or serendipity or happenstance, find one another in this world and so rejoin their spirit even if, in time, their conjuncture destroyed them. Several seconds went by before my presence intruded upon their silent rapture; had I desired, and had I better learned my corporate lessons, I could have killed them both before they even said hello.

  "Look who's here," said Thatcher. "Hon, how you doing? You okay?" I nodded. "You sure? Ready to get back to work yet or you think you need a little more time off? What's today? Monday? Come in tomorrow, why not?"

  "I won't be in tomorrow, Thatcher," I said.

  "Well," he said, "we do need to get the train back on the track around here, but if you need longer-"

  "I'm resigning."

  "I didn't catch that, hon."

  "You did, Thatcher. I'm leaving your employ. Effective immediately."

  "Wait a minute. Come on in here and sit down. Talk to me about this." He turned to his wife, who looked no worse for her stumbles at the edge; without a word she stood, smoothed her skirt and picked up her newspaper.

  "You'll be missed," she said to me, her look focused upon the distance, seeming more than one who had merely chosen blindness; resembling, almost, one of Lester's children, one born without eyes but taught never to seek the light. Once she closed the door behind her Thatcher patted the warmed seat next to him.

  "Communication's the key in business, hon. Talk to me."

  "I'll stand--

  "Then stand closer. You thought about this? Don't you think this might be a little rash?"

  "I've been thinking about it for some time, Thatcher, and I've made up my mind. There's nothing left to talk about. I only wanted to give notice-"

  "Mighty short notice," he said. "You haven't got anything set up elsewhere that I've heard about." His statement came as declaration rather than question. "What's made you do this? What set it off?"

  "You have to ask?" He seemed utterly, truly baffled; his feigned behavior came more naturally to him than the actual-had almost supplanted it entirely, I believed.

  "Joanna," he
said. "I told you I was sorry, and I meant it."

  "You mean it as you say it, Thatcher. Then it's gone."

  "Something snaps in my head when I think something's the matter with Pussums," he said, using the name I knew he used for his wife when he dealt most intimately with her; twice, with me, he'd cried out that name at the crescendo of his joy, surely forgetting in that moment that I was even in the room. "Who else did I have to go after? Who'd I have to blame, hon? You can't blame God."

  "You mean you can't kill God." He had no reply to that; perhaps he had someone working on the problem even as we spoke.

  "I don't know what else to tell you," he said. "Even if he didn't seem to be making himself especially useful, it was still counterproductive to have disposed of him."

  "That it was."

  "My temper'll get me in deep one day," he said. "I just thought she was gone. What would I do without her?"

  "One day she will be gone," I said. "What then?"

  "You don't think I'm upset about this?" It was reassuring to see such consistency in one man's soul. "You know how I am. I try to let my emotions out when they ought to come out, but sometimes they just spill all over the place."

  "Well, I can't do the job anymore, Thatcher. It's time for me to go. Nothing either of us can say will change that."

  "You oughta keep your options open," he said. "It's a bad world out there if you don't have a helping hand, hon. Getting worse all the time."

  "You'd see to it if it wasn't, of course."

  He held out his hands, as if to take mine from me; opened them, palms up, in a display of supplicance. "Omelets need eggs, hon, omelets need eggs. How're you going to get by? You need anything-?"

  "No," I said, dropping my apartment keys and my corporate signifyers onto his desk, keeping for the moment only the card that allowed me access into my office. "I have to clean out my desk and then I'll be going."

  "You've left me speechless," he said, leaning back in his chair. "It's all too sudden."

  "Things happen, Thatcher."