the Jets to the scene of a national tragedy…then goddamn it, that’s all the justification I need.”
Plans were made to get the Jets downtown, the meeting ended, the film crew’s lights went out, looks of defiance faded, and the bosses and sub-bosses began drifting out of the room, complimenting one another for their courage and compassion. The Boss glanced over at Remy, raising a hand for him to stay behind. He turned away for a moment and talked under his breath to his advisers and to a couple of commissioners. And then The Boss sat back down, lowered his head, and waited for the room to clear.
When everyone was gone he looked up at Remy with a forced smile. They shook hands and sat down at one corner of the long conference table. The Boss stared. He crossed and uncrossed his legs, waiting for something. One of his aides—a waifish young man in round glasses—brought him a beige file folder, which had the word SECURE stamped on it. The Boss held the folder in his lap and waited for the aide to clear the room. Then he smiled like a guard dog showing his teeth. “How are you, Brian?”
Remy thought of Guterak’s warnings. “I’m good, sir. Fine. Okay. Good. Fine.”
“Excellent.” More staring. And then The Boss opened the file folder he’d been given. Remy could clearly see there was only one page in the folder, and that it didn’t appear to have anything on it, but The Boss pretended to flip through pages. He even licked his fingers at one point, to pry apart the one blank page.
Remy shifted in his chair, wondering what was on the page The Boss was pretending to read. The Boss ruffled the page and made popping noises with his lips. “Just a moment,” he said, running his finger down it. “Yes, yes,” he said. “Right. Et cetera.”
“Sir?”
The Boss looked up. “First of all, I want to thank you for agreeing to this. When I heard what they were looking for, in my mind, there was only one choice. Your combination of expertise and willingness to sacrifice, to do what needs to be done…. But before we finalized things I wanted us to meet face to face, to make sure you haven’t had any second thoughts.”
Since he couldn’t recall having first thoughts, Remy laughed. “Well…”
The Boss cocked his head.
“Honestly…I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t…really know what we’re doing here.”
The Boss’s face flushed red. He leaned forward. “I hope you’re not questioning the direction of the country?”
“The country? No,” Remy said quickly. “I don’t…I don’t think so.”
“Good.” His lips were pursed. “Nothing pisses me off more than that. That’s exactly what the other side wants, Brian. For us to start doubting our actions before we’ve even had a chance to take them. Every question we ask is a love letter to our enemies.”
“No,” Remy protested. “I’m not sending any love letters—”
The Boss snapped out of it, as if he’d just realized he was no longer delivering a speech to the cameras. “Of course you’re not. You’re with us. You, of all people.” The Boss held up the one-page file and rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry. I just get so…emotional…when I think of people questioning our resolve, our commitment to reclaiming our place in the world, our heritage, to gathering everything that was lost, recapturing the record of our people, and our commerce…well, I don’t have to tell you, Brian.”
Remy sort of wished he would, but he shook his head. “No.”
“I chose you for that very reason: your commitment to your country, and your unbending personal loyalty. You are in a unique position, Brian, a pioneer, a bridge between two worlds. Running interference between the police and the city attorney was difficult, but I’m sure it taught you how to live in two worlds—the suits and the shields. In a way, you’ll be doing that again now—living in two worlds.”
“Okay,” Remy
Plans were made to get the Jets downtown, the meeting ended, the film crew’s lights went out, looks of defiance faded, and the bosses and sub-bosses began drifting out of the room, complimenting one another for their courage and compassion. The Boss glanced over at Remy, raising a hand for him to stay behind. He turned away for a moment and talked under his breath to his advisers and to a couple of commissioners. And then The Boss sat back down, lowered his head, and waited for the room to clear.
When everyone was gone he looked up at Remy with a forced smile. They shook hands and sat down at one corner of the long conference table. The Boss stared. He crossed and uncrossed his legs, waiting for something. One of his aides—a waifish young man in round glasses—brought him a beige file folder, which had the word SECURE stamped on it. The Boss held the folder in his lap and waited for the aide to clear the room. Then he smiled like a guard dog showing his teeth. “How are you, Brian?”
Remy thought of Guterak’s warnings. “I’m good, sir. Fine. Okay. Good. Fine.”
“Excellent.” More staring. And then The Boss opened the file folder he’d been given. Remy could clearly see there was only one page in the folder, and that it didn’t appear to have anything on it, but The Boss pretended to flip through pages. He even licked his fingers at one point, to pry apart the one blank page.
Remy shifted in his chair, wondering what was on the page The Boss was pretending to read. The Boss ruffled the page and made popping noises with his lips. “Just a moment,” he said, running his finger down it. “Yes, yes,” he said. “Right. Et cetera.”
“Sir?”
The Boss looked up. “First of all, I want to thank you for agreeing to this. When I heard what they were looking for, in my mind, there was only one choice. Your combination of expertise and willingness to sacrifice, to do what needs to be done…. But before we finalized things I wanted us to meet face to face, to make sure you haven’t had any second thoughts.”
Since he couldn’t recall having first thoughts, Remy laughed. “Well…”
The Boss cocked his head.
“Honestly…I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t…really know what we’re doing here.”
The Boss’s face flushed red. He leaned forward. “I hope you’re not questioning the direction of the country?”
“The country? No,” Remy said quickly. “I don’t…I don’t think so.”
“Good.” His lips were pursed. “Nothing pisses me off more than that. That’s exactly what the other side wants, Brian. For us to start doubting our actions before we’ve even had a chance to take them. Every question we ask is a love letter to our enemies.”
“No,” Remy protested. “I’m not sending any love letters—”
The Boss snapped out of it, as if he’d just realized he was no longer delivering a speech to the cameras. “Of course you’re not. You’re with us. You, of all people.” The Boss held up the one-page file and rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry. I just get so…emotional…when I think of people questioning our resolve, our commitment to reclaiming our place in the world, our heritage, to gathering everything that was lost, recapturing the record of our people, and our commerce…well, I don’t have to tell you, Brian.”
Remy sort of wished he would, but he shook his head. “No.”
“I chose you for that very reason: your commitment to your country, and your unbending personal loyalty. You are in a unique position, Brian, a pioneer, a bridge between two worlds. Running interference between the police and the city attorney was difficult, but I’m sure it taught you how to live in two worlds—the suits and the shields. In a way, you’ll be doing that again now—living in two worlds.”
“Okay,” Remy
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