about to drive back to New Haven when he noticed a diner across the street. He had not eaten since lunch the day before and was suddenly famished. He could almost smell the bacon grease.
The diner was packed with the local breakfast crowd. Kyle found a seat at the counter and ordered scrambled eggs, bacon, hash browns, toast, coffee, and orange juice. He ate in silence as the laughter and town gossip roared around him. The headache was fading fast, and he began plotting the rest of his day. His girlfriend might be a problem: no contact in twelve hours, a night spent away from his apartment-- highly unusual behavior for someone as disciplined as Kyle. He certainly couldn't tell her the truth, could he? No, the truth was a thing of the past. The present and the future would be a life of lies, cover-ups, thieveiy, espionage, and more lies.
Olivia was a first-year law student at Yale, a Californian, UCLA graduate, extremely bright and ambitious and not looking for a serious commitment. They had been dating for four months, and the relationship was far more casual than romantic. Still, he did not look forward to some stuttering tale of a night that simply vanished.
A body closed in from behind. A hand appeared with a white business card. Kyle glanced to his right and came face-to-face with the man he had once known as Special Agent Ginyard, now wearing a
camel hair sport coat and jeans. “Mr. Wright would like to see you at 3:00 p.m., after class, same room,” he said, then disappeared before Kyle could speak. He picked up the card. It was blank except for the handwritten message: “3:00 p.m., today, room 225, Holiday Inn.” He stared at it for a few minutes as he quickly lost interest in the remaining food in front of him.
Is this my future? he asked himself. Someone always watching, following, waiting in the shadows, stalking, listening?
A crowd was waiting by the door for seating. The waitress slipped his bill under his coffee cup and gave him a quick smile that said “Time's up.” He paid at the cash register and, outside, refused to scan the other vehicles for signs of stalkers. He called Olivia, who was sleeping.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Yes, I'm fine.”
“I don't want to know anything else, just tell me you're not hurt.”
“I'm not hurt. I'm fine, and I'm sorry.”
“Don't apologize.”
“I'm apologizing, okay. I should have called.”
“I don't want to know.”
“Yes you do. Do you accept my apology?”
“I don't know.”
“That's better. I expect some anger here.”
“Don't get me started.”
“How about lunch?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I'm busy.”
“You can't skip lunch.”
“Where are you?”
“Guilford.”
“And where might that be?”
“Just down the road from New Haven. There's a great little place for breakfast. I'll bring you here sometime.”
“Can't wait.”
“Meet me at The Grill at noon. Please.”
“I'll think about it.”
He drove back to New Haven, refusing every half mile to glance at his mirror. He slipped quietly into his apartment and took a shower. Mitch, his roommate, could sleep through an earthquake, and when he finally staggered out of his bedroom, Kyle was sipping coffee at the kitchen counter and reading a newspaper online. Mitch asked a few vague questions about last night, but Kyle deflected them nicely and gave the impression that he had bumped into a different girl and things went extremely well. Mitch went back to bed.
COMPLETE FIDELITY had been agreed to months earlier, and once Olivia was convinced Kyle had not cheated, her attitude thawed a little. The story he'd been working on for several hours went like this: He'd been struggling with his decision to pursue public-interest law instead of taking a big job with a big firm. He had no plans to make public-interest law a career, so why go there to begin with? He would eventually work in New York, so why delay the inevitable? And so on. And last night, after his basketball game, he decided he had
The diner was packed with the local breakfast crowd. Kyle found a seat at the counter and ordered scrambled eggs, bacon, hash browns, toast, coffee, and orange juice. He ate in silence as the laughter and town gossip roared around him. The headache was fading fast, and he began plotting the rest of his day. His girlfriend might be a problem: no contact in twelve hours, a night spent away from his apartment-- highly unusual behavior for someone as disciplined as Kyle. He certainly couldn't tell her the truth, could he? No, the truth was a thing of the past. The present and the future would be a life of lies, cover-ups, thieveiy, espionage, and more lies.
Olivia was a first-year law student at Yale, a Californian, UCLA graduate, extremely bright and ambitious and not looking for a serious commitment. They had been dating for four months, and the relationship was far more casual than romantic. Still, he did not look forward to some stuttering tale of a night that simply vanished.
A body closed in from behind. A hand appeared with a white business card. Kyle glanced to his right and came face-to-face with the man he had once known as Special Agent Ginyard, now wearing a
camel hair sport coat and jeans. “Mr. Wright would like to see you at 3:00 p.m., after class, same room,” he said, then disappeared before Kyle could speak. He picked up the card. It was blank except for the handwritten message: “3:00 p.m., today, room 225, Holiday Inn.” He stared at it for a few minutes as he quickly lost interest in the remaining food in front of him.
Is this my future? he asked himself. Someone always watching, following, waiting in the shadows, stalking, listening?
A crowd was waiting by the door for seating. The waitress slipped his bill under his coffee cup and gave him a quick smile that said “Time's up.” He paid at the cash register and, outside, refused to scan the other vehicles for signs of stalkers. He called Olivia, who was sleeping.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Yes, I'm fine.”
“I don't want to know anything else, just tell me you're not hurt.”
“I'm not hurt. I'm fine, and I'm sorry.”
“Don't apologize.”
“I'm apologizing, okay. I should have called.”
“I don't want to know.”
“Yes you do. Do you accept my apology?”
“I don't know.”
“That's better. I expect some anger here.”
“Don't get me started.”
“How about lunch?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I'm busy.”
“You can't skip lunch.”
“Where are you?”
“Guilford.”
“And where might that be?”
“Just down the road from New Haven. There's a great little place for breakfast. I'll bring you here sometime.”
“Can't wait.”
“Meet me at The Grill at noon. Please.”
“I'll think about it.”
He drove back to New Haven, refusing every half mile to glance at his mirror. He slipped quietly into his apartment and took a shower. Mitch, his roommate, could sleep through an earthquake, and when he finally staggered out of his bedroom, Kyle was sipping coffee at the kitchen counter and reading a newspaper online. Mitch asked a few vague questions about last night, but Kyle deflected them nicely and gave the impression that he had bumped into a different girl and things went extremely well. Mitch went back to bed.
COMPLETE FIDELITY had been agreed to months earlier, and once Olivia was convinced Kyle had not cheated, her attitude thawed a little. The story he'd been working on for several hours went like this: He'd been struggling with his decision to pursue public-interest law instead of taking a big job with a big firm. He had no plans to make public-interest law a career, so why go there to begin with? He would eventually work in New York, so why delay the inevitable? And so on. And last night, after his basketball game, he decided he had
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