“This morning.”
“Hangovers don’t count.”
“Christ, I don’t know. It’s been years.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“I don’t know. Death, I guess.”
“You afraid of dying? Who’s not.”
“I guess that’s it. I’m more afraid of living nowadays,” Harry said through the cloud of a fresh cigarette. “Death is starting to sound good to me.”
Mercer looked at him sharply. “Don’t you talk like that, old man.”
Mercer had lost both his parents when he was still a child, and while his grandparents had been wonderful surrogates, they, too, had died while he was a freshmen at Penn State. Death was not unknown to him; he’d seen it in a hundred forms. But to hear Harry talking about it, sounding like he embraced it, was chilling. For Mercer, death was the enemy to be fought at all costs.
“Relax, I’m not dead yet. It just doesn’t sound so bad anymore.” Harry pulled himself from the sullen mood. “Besides, if I go, Tiny will lose his best customer.”
“If you paid your bar tab, maybe.”
“I guess it’s just post-birthday blues,” Harry dismissed easily. “So what are you up to today?”
“Probably start working on my final report to Yukon Coal,” Mercer replied.
“You don’t sound thrilled by the prospect.”
“You have no idea,” Mercer breathed. “This is my second contract since Alaska, and I just can’t make myself interested anymore. I’ve changed and I don’t know why.”
“Yes, you do. You just don’t want to admit it.” Harry eyed Mercer, judging how much honesty his friend needed and guessed correctly that Mercer wanted it all. “You’re lonely. You miss Aggie, but you can’t go back to her. I chose bachelorhood and it’s a lifestyle that suits me, but you’re different. It isn’t for you. I stayed single because I just don’t want to be bothered with the whole thing, but you’re single because you’re scared of women.”
Mercer was surprised by Harry’s statement. It wasn’t at all what he’d expected. “I wasn’t talking about that, but what in the hell do you mean, I’m scared of women?”
“You are. Ever since Tory’s death, you’re afraid of losing someone again, so you keep people, especially women, at a distance. When you let Aggie in and your relationship ended in disaster, you stopped letting yourself feel. You’ve shut yourself off because you’re afraid of being hurt again. Hell, right now I’d say you are more afraid of living than I am.”
“Bullshit,” Mercer said angrily.
“Hit a nerve, didn’t I?”
Mercer said nothing. The pain of Tory’s death was right under the surface. He could feel it now, but deeper than that, he felt anger, anger at himself for not preventing it. He had been there when she was murdered by an IRA gunman and still blamed himself for not stopping it, even if there had been no chance he could.
“Hey, listen, I’m sorry. Maybe that was out of line.”
“No, it really wasn’t. I don’t think I’m afraid of living, but you’re right, I am scared of being hurt.”
“Who isn’t? That’s what it means to be human. Every time you let someone in, you run the risk of pain. I think for a long time you were willing to accept the loneliness, but Aggie reminded you of the actual price you’ve been paying. You haven’t been yourself since you two split.”
Mercer considered Harry’s words. “I’ve been thinking it has to do with the danger we went through. It was the excitement I was missing.”
“I’m sure that’s part of it. I never felt more alive than during the war. There’s nothing like being chased by a Japanese sub or surviving a kamikaze attack to tell you what it means to feel. Do you think surviving the oil rig collapse and the tanker fire and all the other stuff in Alaska opened you a little bit and Aggie stepped through your armor?”
“So she caught me at a vulnerable moment?”
“No, she caught you at a time when you were actually feeling for a change. You aren’t the hardened recluse you thought you were.”
Mercer couldn’t deny the charge, but he wasn’t ready to admit it was true either. “So what should I do?”
“How the hell should I know?” Harry laughed. “I am the hardened recluse I think I am.”
“Bastard,” Mercer smirked.
“For whatever it’s worth, I think just talking like this is good for you. It’s the first time you’ve ever brought it up, which means you’re probably ready to start dealing with it. I don’t have much in the way of experience to help, but I’m here to listen.” Harry struggled into his windbreaker. “Why don’t you work on your report and meet me at Tiny’s around four?”
Mercer considered for a second. “Yeah, I think I need that.”
Mercer was just toweling off when the phone rang. It was twenty minutes until four, and thinking it was Harry telling him to hurry, he answered, “Keep your dentures in. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Dr. Philip Mercer?” an unfamiliar female voice asked.
Oops. “Yes, this is Philip Mercer.”
“Please hold the line for Undersecretary of State Hyde.” The woman put him on hold before he could ask if he’d heard right.
Hyde came on the line an instant later. “Dr. Mercer, this is Prescott Hyde, Undersecretary of State for African Affairs. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“No sir. Not at all,” Mercer replied, naked and still dripping on the carpet next to his bed.
“Good, good.” There was an element of the Teddy Roosevelt bluff in Hyde’s voice, a collegiate jocularity that might not have been forced but was certainly polished. “I’m surprised to find you home on a Monday afternoon, but Sam Becker said you worked strange hours.”
While Mercer did not know Prescott Hyde, he was familiar with Sam Becker, the head of the National Security Agency. The two had worked together on the Vulcan’s Forge affair in Hawaii. Mercer knew the use of Becker’s name was more than just name-dropping. In just that single sentence, Hyde told Mercer that he’d done some checking into his background and knew of his reputation. Mercer wanted to be incensed, but he found he was more intrigued than anything else.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Undersecretary?”
“Please, call me Bill. Sam tells me people just call you Mercer, is that right?”
“Among other things.”
“Excellent. Good to know the boys at the NSA have their information correct,” Hyde laughed. “Listen, Mercer, I’ll come to the point. We’re both busy men, after all.”
It had taken only twenty seconds for Mercer to dislike Hyde. Most public officials took at least a full minute. “You called me,” he said cautiously, feeling he was walking into a trap. “What can I do for you?”
“Right to business, I like that,” Hyde said as if it was Mercer who had instigated the call. “All right, then. I may have a job for you. Something right up your alley, so to speak.”
“I didn’t know the State Department was into mining these days.” Mercer tried to keep the disdain from his voice.
“It’s nothing like that. But it is a little hard to explain over the phone, if you know what I mean?” Hyde’s bonhomie was wearing on Mercer fast. “Something’s come across my desk that is tailor-made for your unique talents. I’ve asked around town and you’ve got yourself quite a reputation for getting tough jobs done. I know all about what you did in Hawaii a few years back and what happened in Alaska last year. While not nearly as exciting, what I have represents a similar challenge.”
Just hearing the word sent a jolt through Mercer. “What sort of challenge?”
“Let’s just say that you alone are qualified to possibly help millions of people. If that doesn’t whet your appetite, nothing I say will. I’d like to get together with you. Is tomorrow okay? Shall we say one o’clock at my office?”