‘That they knew the intrusion originated from here, from Manhattan.’
‘That all?’
‘That they were going to find out who it was. Which we know they can’t, because you didn’t leave any identification, did you?’
Alice was on the point of telling him, but decided against it. ‘What about you and I?’
‘The threat was there, as it was in everything else he said.’ It was the moment to tell her, to reassure her. ‘In fact, he said far too much.’
Alice retrieved her drink, frowning across at him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I recorded everything. We’ve had the wired-in system for years, for client interviews.’ He smiled. ‘I pressed the button and got it alclass="underline" I’ve even made a copy, before I came here tonight. And we’ve got his name: or at least the name he’s using. He might even be the conduit through whom George dealt. Combined with everything else, it’s the dynamite that’ll blow them away.’
Alice smiled back. ‘And there’s going to be a meeting tomorrow?’
‘He’s contacting me at noon, to arrange a place.’
‘Which makes it perfect. He tells you, you tell the Bureau and they pick him up, with the evidence, when he makes the meeting.’
Carver looked at her for several moments before saying: ‘No.’
‘What do you mean, no?’
‘That way I lose it all, the firm, us, Jane. We’ve talked about it.’
Alice put her drink aside again to come over to where Carver was sitting. She knelt at his feet and took his glass from him, so that she could take both his hands in hers. She said: ‘No, John.’ Then, spacing the words: ‘No! No! No! We’ve also talked about how they’re too big for us to fight. They killed George and they killed Janice and they’ll kill you…’
‘Not when they hear the tape. And I tell them I’ve got a copy of it as well as duplicates of everything else.’
‘John, you can’t frighten them!’
‘I’m not trying to frighten them. I’m not going to threaten them. All I want is severance. This is my insurance. Our insurance.’
Alice felt a sweep of helplessness: of not knowing what to say, what to do. And then, abruptly, she did know. ‘I want you to promise me something. I want to know where you’re going to meet this man Burcher.’
‘Why?’
‘I want to know where you’re going to be. That you’re going to be safe. Make it somewhere open, the park maybe, with people all around you. Not an enclosed office or an apartment. Or a car where they can take you anywhere they want.’
‘All right.’
‘Mean it!’
‘I mean it.’ The demand had been reversed, Carver realized.
‘Can you stay?’
‘Not with Jane the way she is.’
‘Call me then, when the arrangements are fixed.’
‘OK.’
‘I love you.’
‘I love you, too. It’s all going to work out fine.’
‘I know,’ said Alice. And believed she did.
Stanley Burcher’s irritation was soon subdued by his inherent objectivity. He knew what he was going to do and wished he didn’t have to use the Delioci Family to achieve it but his brief, final involvement with them wouldn’t give them any continuing rights.
Fifteen
What sleep she managed was fitful, half-awareness briefly broken by horror dreams of men hitting and beating and torturing people, of trying to run or escape: once it was John very clearly in her mind and another time it was herself and it was so real, so painful, that Alice woke crying out at the hurt. She felt physically sick when she finally, properly, awoke, and then she was sick, needing to run to the bathroom, and as she retched she decided that it was scarcely surprising, knowing – but even more frighteningly, not knowing – what she was that day going to start. The nausea wasn’t helped by her having finished off the Martini pitcher without bothering to eat after Carver had left the previous night. She couldn’t remember eating lunch, either. She forced herself now to eat toast she didn’t want and drink coffee that she did, to take a headache pill.
What was she going to start that day? Too much yet to comprehend or imagine. Total, devastating upheaval, the most devastating of all, destroying her life with John. And it would be destroyed, Alice forced herself to admit. What was actually involved in entering the Witness Protection Programme was another thing she couldn’t anticipate, apart from being given an entirely new identity, possibly in an entirely new country, but she didn’t believe there would be any chance of retaining contact with John. More importantly, she didn’t believe he would want to be with her, know her, because what she was going to do would end the firm of George W. Northcote International, and with it most likely John’s marriage to Jane, from the humiliating exposure that would result. Alice accepted – although it was the last thing in the world she wanted to accept – that he’d hate her, for making all that happen. Despise her, for wrecking – desolating – all their lives.
But at least they would have lives. Not be crushed or defaced or throttled. And maybe, even, he would have Jane. The humiliation of knowing what her father had been and done would not be public, in front of all her friends, because she wouldn’t be able to have those friends any more. If she and John could make their peace they could still have each other after all.
What of her peace? Alice asked herself. The most unknown of all the unknowns. She guessed it would take a long time, if she ever found it at all. So was she prepared to take the first, irrevocable step upon the journey on which she was about to embark? No, not if there had been any other choice. If there had been the slenderest of straws she would have grabbed, not just clutched at it. But there wasn’t. There were already two tortured bodies to attest to that. She’d make a third, she supposed, although mentally agonized, not physically broken. She hoped. It still wasn’t fixed yet. Nothing whatsoever was fixed: not in place as logically, sequentially, as it was in her mind. It could actually still go wrong, even when it was fixed. Not go sequentially at all, like it did in movies. She had to ensure everything was right, first time. There’d be no chance – no action replay, take two, take three, rewind – for it to be got right, as it had to be got right. Alice was terrified. Physically, mentally, in every way possible, absolutely terrified.
Which she couldn’t be. If she let herself be motivated solely by fear – another way of saying unthinking panic – it wouldn’t be right first time. Disaster would implode upon disaster. She would have liked a stiffening drink, even with the orange pinkness of dawn still smearing the faraway horizon of New Jersey, but the thought brought her again too close to retching and she put the unthinkable thought aside, because it was unthinkable. Booze wouldn’t help. The reverse. The only thing – the only person – who could help her was herself, keeping in their strict and proper order in her mind what she had to do and how she had to do it. Another intrusive, irrational thought came to her and she thrust that aside, not because it was unthinkable but because it was dangerous and the last thing she could risk was any more danger than she already knew she faced.
Alice carried her coffee from the kitchen to her office to get the telephone number of the FBI’s Manhattan field office on Broadway’s Federal Plaza from the telephone directory and used a street map to trace a zig-zag route back and forth across the city. She was unsure whether it would be quicker – better to keep her on schedule – to use the subway rather than risk buses on gridlocked streets, and decided she had an easy choice of alternatives if above ground proved more difficult than below. It might, actually, make sense to dodge up and down. They knew she’d hacked from Manhattan. Were looking for her here. They knew her name was Alice. So did the over-friendly manager of the cybercafe, who might have got her number from the call-back service even if he hadn’t used it yet. But who would volunteer it soon enough – scream it over and over again – under whatever torture he was subjected to. She couldn’t wait until the protection programme to disappear. She had to do it now. That realization prompted another, which she at once recognized was going to tighten up her schedule because she’d decided she had to be back in Princes Street by eleven thirty that morning, but it was a precaution she most definitely had to take. She was pleased it had occurred to her now, in time, and not as an afterthought when it might have been too late. She checked her balance and calculated that even leaving sufficient for her regular payments to be met she had slightly over $17,000 if she withdrew from her savings as well as her checking account. Her branch was downtown, which would increase the dangerous, unnecessary temptation. Once more she put it to one side.