by Jack Gardner
Eddie looked up and saw her looking at him. She sat on the couch, looking at him and saying, more than asking, “You know what this means.”
“Tell me I’m wrong,” said Eddie, and felt the nausea rising up his throat.
“You’re not wrong and you know it.”
“Retraction?” He sounded defeated.
“Exactly,” she said. “They are eliminating all proofs. Sometimes you just can’t win. They’re too big and strong.”
Eddie thought about it for a long moment. “And if I insist to go on?” He asked, without a lot of hope.
“Then you’d reach a dead end. As far as I see, without these peoples’ confessions you’ve got nothing. As soon as they’re gone…” She did not finish the sentence.
“So we’ll never know?” He asked.
“That’s possible. But think about the bright side.”
“There’s a bright side?”
“Yes. You and your friend are no longer in danger. Now you can get in your car, go to headquarters, where they’ll politely ask you where you were and how come you didn’t keep in touch…”
“And they’ll let us live with these suspicions?”
“Not because they love you that much, but because they know that if anything happened to you, you already made sure the allegations would reach the media. That could shake them too much, so you guys get to enjoy the benefit of the doubt.”
“And the fraud? The ten million dollars stolen from the public that are now in some secret offshore bank account?”
“Small change. Not worth getting killed over.”
Eddie moaned and accepted it.
“Why don’t you help me look at these amazing stitches?”
“Great idea, and before breakfast, too,” said the woman who used to shoot people.
‘Goddamnit,’ thought Eddie, but he also felt relieved. It’s not very pleasant to be hunted.
46
“You better listen to this recording,” said Sammy as he put a tape recorder on the Head’s desk and pressed play. The recording of the conversation he had with Mitchell half an hour earlier echoed through the room. Once the conversation ended, L looked straight into Sammy’s eyes. He had no need to ask questions.
“I checked with the police and the hospital.” Sammy spoke slowly, the way one does when one loses something or someone. “He’s telling the truth. The courier was riding a motorcycle when a car suddenly blocked him in a side street and two men violently attacked him. He has a pretty bad head injury; he was most likely hit with a baseball bat or a metal pole. They cracked his trunk and took the bag. For the moment, we have no lead as to the attackers’ identity. The courier is unconscious in the hospital and I doubt that he’ll survive.”
“Were there any witnesses?”
“One. A woman who was standing on her balcony saw it all. She called the police, who came only ten minutes later, after the car had already left. She claimed the attackers were wearing ski masks. She doesn’t think she could recognize any of them.”
“And the car?”
“Stolen that morning and was found abandoned three blocks away from there. The officer in charge of the investigation asked for forensic examinations to see if there was anything left in the car that may be of help.”
“Sounds like a professional job.”
“Yes.”
L turned in his chair so that Sammy could only see his profile. He looked out the window at the ray of light coming in from the highway. He was silent for a moment which seemed to last forever. Then he quietly said, “Mitchell?”
Sammy, biting his lip, nodded in what seemed to be a motion of helplessness. Then he tried to regain his composure, knowing that he had to answer.
“In all honesty, I don’t know,” he said. “It would be crazy of him to try that sort of thing. After all, he knows we would leave no stone unturned looking for the truth. And if it leads back to Mitchell, that would be the end of him. No, I don’t believe it’s him, but that is only a gut feeling, of course. We’ll look into any possible direction.”
“No.” L said quietly.
Sammy leaned toward him, surprised, “I don’t understand.”
“I said no. We will not look into anything. I want an immediate disengagement.”
“And the money?”
“Easy come, easy go.”
“But…” Sammy tried to argue, but L would not let him finish his sentence.
“No buts. This is an order. This whole thing is getting too dangerous and we are stopping right now. Is that clear?”
Sammy nodded in approval.
“Did you take care of all of the loose ends that may lead back to us?” Asked L.
“Of course,” said Sammy and rose to his feet.
L turned his chair back and looked straight in his Vice’s eyes. “You can’t always win,” he said tenderly. “Go home and get some rest.”
Sammy nodded and left the room.
47
Since I was waiting, I could allow myself to take some interest in what happens in the world around me. So that morning, I carefully left my house, meaning to get some groceries and the morning paper.
I always read the paper from the back page to the front, excluding the headlines, with which I started. So I almost immediately saw the piece about the accident. Obviously, one should always expect coincidences such as this. After all, accidents happen all the time, and they may inflict even Bureau employees. But when certain people are injured at certain times, coincidences can be thought of as calculated occurrences.
I was curious to see if Eddie thought so, too. I thought it would be friendly of me—it’s weird, but after our last meeting I started seeing him as a friend—if I brought it to his attention, in case he didn’t already know. It was time we made our collaboration a closer one.
I called his cellphone and had the feeling he was waiting to hear from me. He immediately asked if I could call from an unlisted number to the phone number he gave me when we met. I promised I would within the half hour.
I drove a couple of blocks without the hint of a tail, so I stopped by a payphone and dialed the number I memorized. Eddie picked up after the phone rang three times. “I think I know what you want to tell me,” he said.
“I understand,” I replied.
“We think they’ll take the hounds back to the pound,” he said. We? Does he have his own army?
“That’s what I thought, too,” I simply said.
“Do you feel relieved?” Eddie asked.
I thought about my feelings for a moment. I decided to stick to honesty. “Goddamnit, yes, I do. Maybe I’m getting old, but in all probability, we never stood a chance.” I can speak in the third person plural, too, when I have to.
“Probably not,” he agreed.
“And you? How do you feel?”
“Relieved. In the good old days, my ego wouldn’t have allowed me to feel that, but you already explained it.” He was honest, as was my impression of him all along.
“And how long will you need in order to confirm that our assumption is correct?”
“Give me two hours. I’m in the middle of a first-aid class here…”
“Sorry. How’s your leg?”
“You know what? In six or seven weeks I’d be able to try that maneuver on the highway again…”
“I’d give that up if I were you. It could end badly. I told you I have some experience with these things, right?”
He laughed. “I’ll think about it. Talk to you soon, my friend.” Yes, just like that.
Two hours later, I called his unlisted number again. He had already talked to them and received a green light to bring me back. They simply told him that the whole thing was a mistake, that someone had passed along incriminating information about me. No, they can’t say who did that and what that information was, and there is no need to. They’ve looked into it and found out that it was an attempt to implicate me. They were very apologetic about all I’ve been through. Them, too, I thought.
Now, everything can go back to normal, as if it never happened. There is no point going on wasting the time of two people as talented as we were—they included Eddie here as a hint to the fact that they appreciate the friendship we created. A few urgent things came up in the last few days. A few trips to faraway places are imminent. It all sounded like a horoscope.
There was also a red carpet. The Bureau’s Head of Operations will receive us himself. He will be waiting for us in two hours. My entry permit will be waiting at the main gate. Eddie suggested we meet and go there together, and we made all the necessary arrangements. At the end, before he hung up, he said something that sounded like he was thinking out loud:
“We are guarded until we reach the gate, and on the way back, too, if we decide not to go in. But if we do go in there, well—that is a risk we are going to have to take.”
'Guarded until we reach the gate,' he said. I thought about his secret army,
Yes, if the permit is waiting at the main gate and there is someone waiting for us outside, to me it sounded like a risk we could take.
“Sounds fair to me,” I said.
“And back to the question you once asked me: the name is Eduard, but my friends call me Eddie. So actually, not a lot of news there.” That simple.
“Thanks. It’s an honorable, heroic name. Suits you well.”
“Thank you.” He meant it.
For the first time in many days I felt like I was breathing fresh air. I went back home to take a shower and wear something appropriate. It’s not every day you meet the Head of Operations.
***
Just as earlier I was like a hunted animal running away from the hunters, I was now a free man who all of a sudden did not need to look behind his shoulder at all times. The meeting with L was so surprisingly calm and friendly that more than once I thought that maybe the past couple of weeks were a nightmare that happened only in my imagination.
Only that I knew very well it wasn’t. On the other hand, I also knew it wasn’t personal and that apart from my little taunting stunt at L’s home—which he gracefully ignored—there was no matter of revenge here. We all played the game and they lost this one battle. No less than that, but no more either.
After Judy served Eddie and me some coffee, and after it was made clear to me that I would be back to work shortly, I informed them that I was going to need a two-week vacation in order to look after some personal affairs. Sammy, who was also present, smiled and wittily remarked that I probably needed some time to move back into my apartment—but L hushed him and said that the Bureau does not inquire into its employees’ vacations. He then immediately contradicted himself and asked whether I was planning to spend my vacation abroad. When I replied that yes, I was planning on going abroad, Sammy mentioned that there was no point in unpacking my suitcase upon my return, as according to the plans, I am supposed to go away as soon as I was back on duty.
We left together in Eddie’s car—not before Judy’s smile gave away the fact that she was happy that was how the story ended. I was somehow suspicious that she knew way more than her behavior revealed. I remembered that note in my shoe and wondered if maybe it was from her.
Out of habit, which became like second nature, my eyes surveyed the side mirrors and the cars driving behind us. After a couple of miles, I was convinced that we were clean and then, a second before I averted my eyes from the mirror, I saw a gray van leaving the highway at an interchange. I got a glimpse of large sunglasses and red hair, before I saw Eddie peering at me through the back mirror, smiling. Our eyes met and he winked at me. A small, meaningful wink. I knew I wasn’t going to get more than that, which was totally fine with me.
For the first time in two weeks, I was calm. I leaned my head against the window, looking out at the view as if I were a tourist.
“This trip of yours, is it important?”
“As important as it gets,” I heard myself say.
“I know what you mean,” he said.
“And you, aren’t you an exit past your destination?” I quietly asked.
“That’s exactly what I was just thinking,” he answered.
We didn’t exchange another word. I opened the window and felt the wind against my face. It was a beautiful May morning.
Epilogue
When the date of the general elections came, the process took place in orderly fashion. The parties each elected their heads, who would then be their candidates for prime minister. It then became apparent that the public, for the most part, was tired of failed political solutions and wished to see a strong leader whose abilities, courage, and leadership were proved in combat so that he could withstand the strenuous work of bringing peace.
There was one man in the right wing parties who could comply with these wishes. At the end of the day, the retired General won against his opponent within the party. And when the general elections took place a few months later, he also won, by a large majority. The wish of that group of people who had planned to promote the man in illegitimate way was realized.
Eight months later, it came out of the blue.
One morning, a rumor started spreading that L, the Bureau’s Head of Operations, was arrested. He was suspected of knowing about an offshore bank account with six million dollars, money that was gained illegally and made to serve illegal goals. The rumors said he was immediately removed from office and brought into court, where it was decided that he would be under house arrest until the end of the investigation. By noon that day, the rumor had spread across all Bureau departments, reaching even the ones working away from the country.
That’s how I found out about it.
The next day, the information was leaked to the media, and by the following evening, it was already confirmed by the heads of the Bureau.
The Bureau seemed to freeze in place. For three days, no activity took place as everyone was waiting to see who would be appointed to head the operations department. On the fourth day, when the decision-makers at the Bureau realized just how bad the situation was, things started rolling again. A new Head of Operations was appointed, and within the first day in his new position, he began laying off some of the high-ranking officials who were closest to his dismissed predecessor. Naturally, one of the first people asked to leave was Sammy, L’s second.
Two days later, L indirectly confirmed all suspicions against him. He sat in front of his desk in his study at home where the window overlooked the red roses, picked up his gun, and shot himself in the head. He left a note asking his family to forgive him but not giving any explanation concerning the allegations against him. Following the regular recriminations concerning who was negligent and whether this could have been prevented, this story faded, as stories always do, until it was no longer on the public agenda. It seemed that L took his secret to the grave.
***
Another year passed.
It was close to 1 a.m. when I decided to leave my room in order to sip a nightcap at the hotel bar. It was a small and intimate bar with eight bar stools and four tables against the wall in front of the bar. I stood by the door and, out of habit, surveyed the room before walking in. It was almost empty. I saw the bartender talk to a man and a woman who were sitting at the bar. Three of the tables were empty. There was a man sitting alone at the fourth table, in the back. I recognized him immediately even though he was wearing an expensive suit and a silk tie.
Our eyes met and he nodded hello while inviting me to join him with a hand gesture. I felt as if he sat there waiting for me all this time. I came over and shook the hand of Sammy, the former Vice Head of Operations.
Judging by his expensive clothes and watch, his leaving Bureau did him nothing but good. I could recognize money when I saw it, and I had no doubt that I saw a lot of money in front of me.
“Just passing by…?” I wondered.
“It’s a small world for people like us…” He smiled, and then I knew he came to meet me.
I ordered a Johnny Walker from the bartender who came to the
table and then we were once again alone.
“That story changed everything,” I started, without any introductions.
“That’s true, but I’m not complaining,” Sammy said quietly.
“It’s odd that they only found six million.”
“Do you really think so?” He asked.
“Actually, I don’t. I’m guessing the rest of the money was transferred to finance some kind of goal.”
“Like what?” He was still speaking softly.
“I don’t know, but I know what it was initially meant for. Someone was negligent when taking care of that courier.”
He did not approve nor deny it. For a second, I was under the impression that he wanted to say something but then changed his mind and remained silent.
The bartender came back with my drink.
“Do you remember my hobby? The hobby that got me into trouble to begin with?”
He looked at me without saying a word.
“I thought about it a lot, and I have a crazy idea. I think you are the man who could refute or approve it.”
He kept sitting still.
“My idea was that the only way to predetermine the lottery’s outcome is by taking care of the balls. After all, everyone believes that the results are totally random, and that’s what stopped me at first—that randomness.”
I took a sip.
“That is my ball theory,” I went on. “It’s such a fascinating shape, the ball. However you look at it, it’s the most commonplace shape in the world. And when I thought about the factor of randomness in the lottery, I realized that the randomness itself depends on a number of axioms. In other words, if you change one of these propositions, a random phenomenon might not necessarily be that random anymore. Let’s assume, for example, that I take out ten of the forty-five balls in the machine and replace them with lighter balls, or change some of the balls’ weight and circumference. After all, the naked eye cannot discern changes of 5 percent, let’s say. Now, if the opening through which the balls are shoved is in fitting with the balls’ size, then the new balls whose circumference was modified would simply not get through it. And the balls with the right circumference would have preference. So all in all, the result is no longer random, but predetermined. Obviously, what I just described takes a lot of experimentation and planning, but if you ask me, I would bet it’s doable.”
