by Noah Boyd
“For someone with a degree in philosophy, you have an extraordinary lack of it in your personal life.”
“Said the bricklayer with a master’s degree.”
Vail smiled. “It’s like that old Bureau adage, ‘If you want something done right, go find yourself a misfit.’ ”
Bursaw watched the street in front of him for a few blocks before saying, “So you’re not going to ask?”
Vail looked at him and then went back to staring out the windshield. “Okay, how is she?”
“Was that so hard?” Bursaw demanded.
“Don’t press your luck. How is she?”
“You would think with all the press she’s gotten for taking down the LCS and cleaning up the little problem inside our own hallowed halls, she’d be on top of the world, but I think her face is at least as long as yours. You should try to see her before you go.”
“I gave that a lot of thought when I was gone. I think we’re both too comfortable with being mildly unhappy. It precludes unhappiness on a larger scale.”
“And you talk about my personal philosophy being misguided.”
“Ironic, isn’t it? The thing that brought Kate and me together is what ultimately keeps us apart. We’re a great match working together, and the little time spent completely away from the job has been very good, but invariably her work creeps back in and that’s the end of it.”
“She told me how this case has gotten in the way. Not that she had to tell me how you are. But it’s over now. I don’t have all the particulars, but knowing you, I’m going to guess it’s long past your turn to blink.”
“I said some things that would be hard for her to forgive. She’ll be better off if I just get out of here.”
“And how would you be?”
Vail stared at him for a few moments. “You’re a good friend, Luke.”
Bursaw pulled in to a parking space. “In all the time I’ve known you, I’ve never seen anyone change your mind, so I’m done trying.” He turned off the engine. “Let’s eat.”
As Vail got out of the car, he realized that they were in the section of Georgetown where he and Kate had gone to dinner the night they’d arranged her escape. He and Bursaw walked into the same small courtyard where they had window-shopped. It was late enough that all the stores were closed but one. Vail glanced into the window of the art gallery where he and Kate had stood that night when he told her about his father.
There were four new sculptures, a series, depicting the same woman in varying poses, all draped with sheer fabric that was somehow more sensuous than if she’d been nude. Three of them had Sold signs placed next to them. “What the—” Vail looked back for Bursaw, hoping that his friend could answer the incomplete question, but he had already gone inside the gallery. Vail looked at the sculptures again to see if he was imagining things. They were his.
He looked past the display and could see some of the people inside, glasses of wine in their hands, Bursaw now among them, shaking hands with an older woman and accepting a drink from a server.
Vail took a step back and, with attempted objectivity, judged the pieces. Were they good enough? He went inside to find out.
The gallery was deceptively large, consisting of three rooms. Other pieces of his were exhibited on pedestals, more than a dozen. He started over to Bursaw and was about to pull him aside when his friend held up his hands, indicating it wasn’t his doing. He then pointed back at the office door. It was open, and Vail could now see Kate sitting alone. When she spotted Vail, she stood and smiled with a hint of uncertainty.
He entered the office, and all he could say was “How?”
She took his hand. “A Bureau plane. Your building manager remembered me and let me in. A lot of bubble wrap. It wasn’t really that hard. The only difficult part was taking the chance that you wouldn’t hate me for doing this.”
“As far as surprises go, this isn’t bad.”
“Then you’re not mad at me?”
He smiled reflectively. “I haven’t gotten that far yet.”
“The gallery owner thinks I’m your manager, so don’t tell him what I really do. He loves that you’re a bricklayer. He keeps telling everyone that you’re just like Rodin. I suppose you know he was a bricklayer before he became famous. Some of them have already sold. I let him set the prices. I hope that’s okay.”
Vail, looking as confused as she’d ever seen him, turned around and watched the people examining his work. He turned back to her, still unable to answer.
“Is it all right?” she asked.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Just say it’s okay.”
“I’m talking about you. The way I was to you—why would you do this for me?”
“I’ll leave the obvious answer to that limited imagination of yours, bricklayer. And let’s not forget the way I was to you. I accused you of not being able to trust anyone, and then you left me all the answers. And never once looked back. Of the good and bad we’ve traded, I’d say I got the better of the deal.” She took a sip of her wine. “That last why had me for a while. Only after I left the off-site and was on my way to give Kalix the list of spies did I realize that you were pointing at him. But you evidently had enough confidence in me that I’d figure it out. Thank you.”
“I’m the one who should be thanking you. For the first time since I was a kid, I feel like I’m connected to someone.”
She put her arms around his waist. “And now I believe I owe you one New Year’s Eve.”
Vail glanced out into the gallery and closed the office door quickly.
Kate said, “Actually, I was thinking more like at my place.”
“Do you know who just walked in?”
“Who?”
“Mike, the director’s driver, and he doesn’t look like he’s here for the art.”
“Oh, he’s probably—”
Vail went to the back of the office and opened an exit door. It led to an alley. “Remember what happened when I let you answer that phone on the real New Year’s Eve?” He grabbed her by the wrist. “Let’s go.”
“They know where I live.”
“We’re driving straight to the airport.”
“Where are we going?”
“Yeah, like I trust you enough to tell you.”
She grabbed his arm. “You always did know just what to say to a girl, Stan.”
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