"No," Becker said. "I think I am." He held out his hand. "Well done, Stanley."
Grinning eagerly, Kom pumped Becker's hand. "You mean it? That was helpful?"
"It was of heuristic value," Becker said. "I don't know that it taught me anything specific, but it gave me a new slant on things, it helped me to learn."
"Terrific," Kom said, beaming. He turned to face Grone, who watched from behind his desk. "Terrific." Grone managed a feeble smile.
"Terrific," he said.
Kom turned back to Becker, rocking onto his toes with new energy. "So, John. Can I take you to lunch?"
They ate sushi at Becker's suggestion. Kom agreed to the menu immediately but showed a hesitancy when the food arrived. Becker noticed that he studied a package of fish and rice carefully before gamely putting it in his mouth.
"Tell me, John, do you ever think you'd like to switch careers? I mean, I know it isn't very practical, you get into a thing so deep, all those years, all that training you've got invested-but do you ever feel kind of trapped?"
"Often and severely," Becker said.
"Really? It's not just me?"
Becker toyed with his chopsticks. "I've actually tried to get out of the Bureau. I was out, as far as you can get out. I have-I have a special talent. They didn't want to lose it. Ultimately, I didn't want to lose it either. It's what I do best, even if I sometimes hate it while I'm doing it."
"I've heard stories," Kom said cautiously. "You never know what to believe…"
"I've heard the stories too," said Becker. "Overheard them anyway. Some of them. How I'm supposed to have some kind of sixth sense about serial killers, how I can spot them on the street as if they have an aura that only I can see… It's not true, of course."
"Of course not." Kom waited for more as Becker poured himself tea, then held the cup in his hand as if testing it for warmth.
"I just understand them better than most other agents," Becker said at last. He did not look at Kom but kept his eyes fixed on the back of a patron two tables away.
Kom nodded, encouraging without speaking.
"I have a better sense of what they feel," Becker continued. "Most people don't allow themselves to make the empathic jump. They think that people like Johnny are monsters."
Becker paused and Kom continued to nod encourage ment. Becker glanced at him, then away again.
"What they do is monstrous," Becker said. "But the people who do these things, they're people. They aren't werewolves, they aren't beasts that live in the woods and come into the village to feed. They're people who most of the time are normal enough, they have normal concernshow to pay the rent, how to get ahead at work, whether to buy a new car or go one more year with the old one. Many of them have families, wives, children, girlfriends. They have their own reasons for the crimes they commit, they aren't reasons others might understand, but they make an internal logic for the killers."
"I guess I never thought of it that way, but of course, they have to live in a community, they can't have horns showing on their head."
"Successful serial killers are not madmen in the normal sense, although their actions during the killings may or may not be insane. Remember, they get away with it. Sometimes for a long, long time. Sometimes forever. We don't catch them all. We don't even know about them all.
They're clever, they have to be. We found out about Johnny just because of a fluke."
"What do you mean, their actions during the killings may or may not be insane?" Kom asked. "Wouldn't you have to be crazy to kill people like that? Again and again?"
Becker looked directly at Kom. "No, Stanley. You'd just have to like it. "
Kom shivered elaborately. "Sounds crazy to me."
Becker turned away and grasped his chopsticks again. "Maybe you haven't thought about it enough. Or maybe you've just been lucky where life has placed you." Becker resumed eating and they sat in silence for a moment.
"You've-you've killed some of them, haven't you?… I'm sorry, John, that's rude. That's personal…"
Becker smiled ruefully. "I'm told by a variety of therapists that it's good for me to talk about it. Don't worry Stanley, you'd be abnormal if you didn't mention it eventually… Yes, I've killed some of them."
Kom nodded, provisionally.
"Is there more to the question?" Becker asked.
"Well… no. Not really."
"How did it feel?"
"No, John, really. I'm acting like a voyeur or something. This is a painful subject for you. I apologize."
Becker paused, then sighed audibly. "I understand them, Stanley."
After a silence Kom said, "Thank you for telling me that, John. I know it wasn't easy. I think… I think I should tell you something."
"It's not a trade-off," Becker said.
"No, no, you should know it. We're going to be friends and you should know… Tovah… First, we both had a great time with you and Karen at dinner the other day."
"We did too."
"Did you really? That's terrific, thanks, that means a good deal to me, and Tovah will be very happy to hear it."
"I think Karen called her the next day and thanked her."
"Well, yeah, sure, but… see, Tovah… I feel a little disloyal talking about her this way."
Becker grinned. "You haven't said anything about her yet. "
"Tovah… gets these infatuations. That's the best thing to call them. They don't last too long, they're like crushes, like a teenager."
Becker tried to imagine Tovah Kom with a crush on anyone, losing control of herself, abandoning her bitterness. He couldn't manage to see it.
"That's all right, there's nothing wrong with that," Kom said. He did not sound convinced. "As long as everyone knows that's all it is." Kom looked at Becker and touched him on the arm, holding his attention.
"They don't last long.
"Uh-huh," said Becker. He did not know what he was supposed to do with such unlikely information.
"I mean, I understand, she's a beautiful woman, a very exciting woman … a lonely woman in some ways, you know what a doctor's hours are like, it's hard to plan things, I might have to leave whenever the phone rings, half the time I'm at the hospital, I do rounds, I have operations, there are emergencies…
"Uh-huh."
"I'm saying I understand, John."
"I have pretty strange hours myself. So does Karen sometimes, although with Jack, one of us is always around…"
"I'm not encouraging anything, but if it happens, it happens. It won't last long. I won't hold it against you, she's beautiful. I just want to get it on the table."
"You're beginning to lose me, Stanley."
"Oh, come on, John. You must have sensed it. It was like a cloud hanging over the dining table. Tovah's crazy about you."
Becker fought not to choke on his raw fish.
Kom was shaking his head, studying the tabletop.
"It's so embarrassing," said Kom.
"I couldn't believe it," Becker said. He noticed that Karen had fallen deathly silent. "I don't believe it. When I was alone with her, she talked about her husband, he's the one she's infatuated with."
Karen lay in bed, a book open on her stomach. She stared at Becker coldly.
"How did you take this news?"
"What do you mean? I was stunned, I didn't know what to say. It was almost like he was pimping for her, but he was so-he was so humiliated.
I thought he was going to cry.
"Then he believes it's true, even if you say you don't."
"I don't say I don't believe, I don't believe it."
"Maybe you're not the best judge."
"I'm telling you, it's ridiculous… Don't just stare at me like that, you make me feel guilty. I haven't done a thing. I'm telling you this story, aren't I?"
"Yes, you're telling me, you get full marks for telling me."
"What don't I get full marks for?"