Decker and his Aunt Hanne had never gotten along. She had always been jealous of her sister Bitten, Decker’s mother, and when both of his parents had died in that car crash, she had only reluctantly agreed to take Decker in. Indeed, it had been Tom who had finally persuaded her to “do the Christian thing” with her nephew. The Christian thing, Decker thought.
Llewellyn’s voice made its entrance before him. Decker could hear him just outside in the hall, charming some nurse. “You seem like a nice girl,” he boomed with conviction. “Have you met my nephew, John? Good looking boy. Works for the government.”
Just then he appeared at the door. Decker got up to greet him.
“There he is. Good looking, isn’t he? Told you.”
“You sound like a Jewish grandmother,” said Decker, giving Llewellyn a hug. He looked at the nurse. She was a heavyset African-American woman, about two hundred pounds, with a dark complexion and high cheekbones. Pretty eyes.
Eventually, Llewellyn released him.
“I told him it was after visiting hours, Special Agent Decker,” the nurse said. “But he just insisted and the other agent said it was fine. I’ll be back in a little while for your lesson. Try not to disturb her.” She looked pointedly at Llewellyn. “That means keep your voice down, if that’s possible.” Then she stepped from the room.
Decker stared at his uncle. “You look great, Tom,” he said. “How was your flight?” His uncle was wearing a short brown wool coat, black plastic-rimmed glasses, and a small porkpie hat with a red feather in it. Although almost seventy, he looked spryer than most men twenty years younger.
“Painless,” he said, moving off toward the bed. He looked down at Becca. At the tubes coming out of her body. At the humming machinery. After a moment he added, “Can’t complain.” He turned back toward Decker. “And you?”
Decker shrugged. “You know. Holding up, I guess. I’m glad she’s not awake for all this. I wish someone would put me in a coma.”
“You’ve been in a coma for two years, John. Ever since Emily’s accident.”
Decker sighed. “Is that meant to make me feel better? Oh, which reminds me. Thanks for coming.”
“You’re welcome. Besides, with the economy so lousy these days, the store’s not that busy. Certainly nothing your Aunt Hanne can’t handle.”
“I’m sure,” Decker said.
“Almost time for the church bazaar, which means I won’t be seeing her for at least a couple of months. Might as well catch a slow boat to Rangoon. By the time she’s figured out that I’m gone, I’ll be halfway to Singapore. Ah, Singapore.”
Llewelyn had done three tours in Vietnam. Most G.I.s had been anxious to go home when the war was over, but not Tom. He had stayed behind in Thailand for another four years.
“And then there’s her book club, the shut-ins and the gym,” he continued. “But I guess it’s good to keep busy. Are you keeping busy, John? I mean, you must be. You’ve canceled every holiday, every get-together, every social Hanne and I have tried to arrange in, hmmm… let me see now. About a year and a half. What the hell’s going on, John?”
“I’ve been kind of—” Decker cut himself short. His uncle hardly ever used curse-words. It just wasn’t like him. He was a Deacon and looked upon himself and his behavior as a model to others. “What did you say?”
“You don’t call me when some Islamist fundamentalist nut job blows up your house, sets my angel on fire, like an animal. You don’t call me when you’re almost dismembered in another explosion. No. Now, you call me. So I ask you again. What’s going on?”
“I may have to go out of town for a few days on business. I just wanted someone to be here with Becca. Someone I know. Someone I trust.”
“What about the guy with the gun down the hall?”
“Special Agent Pierce? As of tomorrow, he’ll no longer be here. They’re reassigning all of Becca’s watchers. As far as the Bureau’s concerned, she’s no longer in danger.”
“Why would she be? I thought you told me that the guys who attacked you were dead. I thought they died in that explosion in Brooklyn.”
“They did. It’s just that…”
“Just what?”
“I don’t know. Something’s going on, Tom, I can feel it. Those particular guys may be dead. Ali Hammel and his cell. But there’s more to this, I… I can’t explain it. It’s just a bad feeling.”
“A matter of faith, huh?” he said with a smile. “There’s hope for you yet, John.” He put a hand on Decker’s right shoulder, drew him close. “Don’t worry. Do what you gotta do. I’m here now. I won’t let anything happen to Becca.”
The nurse reappeared and ushered them down the hall to another room where she instructed them in how to change Becca’s bandages, and how to keep the wounds free of germs. “With luck, she’ll be back home for Christmas,” the nurse said. “You’ve got to stay positive. Trust in something higher than yourself. You’ll need to be ready.”
They practiced on oversized dolls, faceless mannequins. Llewellyn was particularly good at the task but Decker fumbled, growing more and more frustrated. The bandages always came apart in his hands.
He found himself drifting, seeing flashbacks of Emily. Most were wonderful moments but they always concluded the same way: her bursting into brilliant white flames as the plane plowed into that field outside Dallas. Then, he shut off his mind, closed his heart. It was as if he were seeing it all through the eyes of somebody else, some stranger, observing his own life from a distance. Or looking up through the eyes of the doll in his hands.
You’ve been in a coma for two years, John.
Decker’s phone started ringing and he breathed a sigh of relief. “Got to take this,” he said, slipping out to the hallway.
It was Xin Liu, the computer expert McCullough had told him about.
“Special Agent John Decker, Jr.?”
“Speaking. Thanks for getting back to me so promptly. I—”
“Where are you?”
“In Washington.”
“Can you come up to Boston? I got the package you sent me.”
There was a note of urgency in her voice, Decker thought, although she was trying to suppress it. She was trying very hard to sound calm. “Tonight?”
“Yes, tonight. I’m having a going-away party for a friend of mine. But it should be over by ten or so. You’re welcome to join us.”
“Can’t this wait ’til tomorrow? I don’t want to intrude.”
Decker found himself pacing back and forth in the corridor, just a few yards from Becca’s room. Xin Liu didn’t respond. He could hear her breathing at the other end of the phone but she didn’t say anything.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, she replied, “I’m afraid this can’t wait. It could be important. I’m at ninety-eight Erie, between Brookline and Sydney. The old Central Pipe and Supply Company warehouse.”
Decker slipped back into Becca’s room. His daughter seemed to stir for a moment as he glided to the foot of her bed, but it was probably just his imagination. He took a step closer.
“Special Agent Decker?”
“Yes, I’m here.” He stared down at his daughter.
“Did you hear me?”
“I’ll take the next flight.”
Decker hung up. He slipped the phone into the holster on his belt. Then he pointed at his chest, made the shape of a heart, and pointed back down at Becca. With the tip of his finger, he traced an elliptical sign on the clear plastic sheet of the nursing unit.