sorry.” There was nothing else to say. He had been a witness to and bringer of death for longer than he cared to admit, but that had been part of his job. He had accepted that the moment he accepted their invitation. Why did Robert’s news fall on him so heavily? Had he lived with unnatural death so long that a natural end seemed wrong? “Is there anything I can do?”
“No. Thank you, but no. I’m glad you came here. I’ve been thinking about the old days a lot.”
“You said that in your card.”
Robert nodded. “Time brings perspective to things. Tell me, do you see what you’re doing for this young lady,” he gestured to the picture of Jennifer Thomson, “as redemption?”
Sean frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Making up for the sins of the past.”
“No, I understand what you’re asking. But redemption for what? We did our work. We did a damn good job of it. We were the good guys.”
“Were we?” Robert sighed, poured himself another brandy. “I wish I could be as certain as you are. I can’t help wondering if what we did was of any real consequence. Alliances change and power shifts. The game is the same. Even the players are the same. They’ve just shifted their positions around the board. Now I lie awake at night and think of all the things I’ve done and seen, and I cannot shake the feeling that we were used. You, I, all of us. We were used and thrown away when our usefulness was done, and it made no difference in the end.
“I don’t know if I’ll see next winter, and that frightens me. But what makes me even more afraid is the feeling that it was all for nothing. I’ve bloodied my hands and I don’t know what I could do that’s enough to wash the blood away. Nothing, probably.”
Sean watched as Robert turned and stared into the fire. For a moment he felt dreadfully certain that Robert was right, that they had sold their souls for nothing, had been puppets used in a bloody and meaningless show. He could feel the knowledge roll across his mind like a thunderstorm rolling in across the ocean. Then he shoved it away. If he let it in he would never be strong enough to do what he had to.
“Robert,” he said, “you don’t mean that. You’re going through a bad time. You can’t start thinking this way. It’ll drag you down if you do. Please.” He changed his tone, made his voice lighter, jocular. “Come on, let’s talk about the good times. Did I ever tell you about when I was in El Salvador? Nearly got myself killed trying to jury-rig a TV antenna because I didn’t want to miss Twin Peaks if you can believe that.”
To his relief, Robert turned his gaze away from the fire, and smiled. “Go on, tell me.”
* * *
S ean was nowhere near the cook Robert was, but his one specialty was a good corned beef hash. Robert’s dark mood of the night before was gone, and after they finished eating, Robert pushed the plates aside and addressed the problem with his usual aplomb.
“So,” Robert said. “Tell me what you know, I’ll tell you what I know, and we’ll see what we get. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” Sean paused, collected his thoughts for a moment. “I’m going off what I’ve read in the papers, so I wouldn’t bet my life on it, but all the sources say the same thing, so I don’t think we’re too far from the real story. It looks like our friends put plastic explosive around structural support pillars in the parking garage.” He set a candlestick on the table. “And then they directed the charge by arranging some heavy things — probably trashcans filled with water or something easy like that — around the pillars.” He reached over to the cabinet, grabbed a handful of napkin rings, and arranged them around the candlestick in a circle. “That way they have enough weight to direct the charge and your average employee won’t notice or think anything of it if he does. They did enough to take down one half of the building. Whether they knew the other half would
“No. Thank you, but no. I’m glad you came here. I’ve been thinking about the old days a lot.”
“You said that in your card.”
Robert nodded. “Time brings perspective to things. Tell me, do you see what you’re doing for this young lady,” he gestured to the picture of Jennifer Thomson, “as redemption?”
Sean frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Making up for the sins of the past.”
“No, I understand what you’re asking. But redemption for what? We did our work. We did a damn good job of it. We were the good guys.”
“Were we?” Robert sighed, poured himself another brandy. “I wish I could be as certain as you are. I can’t help wondering if what we did was of any real consequence. Alliances change and power shifts. The game is the same. Even the players are the same. They’ve just shifted their positions around the board. Now I lie awake at night and think of all the things I’ve done and seen, and I cannot shake the feeling that we were used. You, I, all of us. We were used and thrown away when our usefulness was done, and it made no difference in the end.
“I don’t know if I’ll see next winter, and that frightens me. But what makes me even more afraid is the feeling that it was all for nothing. I’ve bloodied my hands and I don’t know what I could do that’s enough to wash the blood away. Nothing, probably.”
Sean watched as Robert turned and stared into the fire. For a moment he felt dreadfully certain that Robert was right, that they had sold their souls for nothing, had been puppets used in a bloody and meaningless show. He could feel the knowledge roll across his mind like a thunderstorm rolling in across the ocean. Then he shoved it away. If he let it in he would never be strong enough to do what he had to.
“Robert,” he said, “you don’t mean that. You’re going through a bad time. You can’t start thinking this way. It’ll drag you down if you do. Please.” He changed his tone, made his voice lighter, jocular. “Come on, let’s talk about the good times. Did I ever tell you about when I was in El Salvador? Nearly got myself killed trying to jury-rig a TV antenna because I didn’t want to miss Twin Peaks if you can believe that.”
To his relief, Robert turned his gaze away from the fire, and smiled. “Go on, tell me.”
* * *
S ean was nowhere near the cook Robert was, but his one specialty was a good corned beef hash. Robert’s dark mood of the night before was gone, and after they finished eating, Robert pushed the plates aside and addressed the problem with his usual aplomb.
“So,” Robert said. “Tell me what you know, I’ll tell you what I know, and we’ll see what we get. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” Sean paused, collected his thoughts for a moment. “I’m going off what I’ve read in the papers, so I wouldn’t bet my life on it, but all the sources say the same thing, so I don’t think we’re too far from the real story. It looks like our friends put plastic explosive around structural support pillars in the parking garage.” He set a candlestick on the table. “And then they directed the charge by arranging some heavy things — probably trashcans filled with water or something easy like that — around the pillars.” He reached over to the cabinet, grabbed a handful of napkin rings, and arranged them around the candlestick in a circle. “That way they have enough weight to direct the charge and your average employee won’t notice or think anything of it if he does. They did enough to take down one half of the building. Whether they knew the other half would
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