Дэвид Балдаччи - Long Road to Mercy

As they headed up to see Ben, they had seen the boys, Billy and Michael, coming out of their uncle’s room. Ed was sitting in a chair next to the bed waiting for them.

Both brothers looked like they had been physically abused, but they appeared to be on the mend. Ben seemed to be in worse shape than his brother. He was pale and thin, and his expression was one of complete exhaustion.

Mary closed the door to give them privacy.

Pine sat on the edge of the bed, while Blum stood next to her.

“You saved our lives, Atlee,” said Ed.

“After putting them in danger,” she pointed out.

“But everything’s good then?” said Ed.

“Until the next time the leaders in this country decide to do something stupid,” replied Ben. He turned to look at Pine. “I heard about Simon and Oscar.”

Pine nodded slowly. “I think the guys behind this would call that collateral damage. I would just call it murder. At least Simon’s killer paid the price. The best I could get for Fabrikant was money for his family and dollars for the Society.”

Ben said, “At first, when David Roth came to me, I thought he was nuts. But then I learned that certain parts of our government had gone nuts.”

“And so you helped him do the right thing,” said Pine.

“It was completely fortuitous that I had scheduled that mule ride. But it worked out perfectly.”

“Not so much for poor Sallie Belle,” said Pine. “But for the rest of humanity it worked out okay.”

Ben put out his hand, which Pine took.

He said, “I underestimated you. I thought I was the pro and you were the amateur. Turns out, I got it backward.”

“I will never understand the world you live in, Ben. And I never want to.”

“I’m coming around to that notion myself. How’s David?”

“The last I heard he was off on a long-overdue vacation at a place that only has very flat land.”

“I think he more than earned it.”

She looked at the brothers. “And this gives you some quality time together as a family. Never take that for granted. A lot of people don’t have any family to enjoy.”

Blum gazed keenly at Pine as she said this but remained silent.

Unlike the last time, Pine and Blum had taken a full week to drive cross-country in the Mustang. They had stopped along the way to take in more of America than either ever had.

Now they sat at a little roadside diner in Arkansas eating barbeque and drinking sweet iced tea at a picnic table while some little kids in T-shirts and shorts ran around playing tag. Pine said, “You know, this really is a beautiful country.”

“It’s actually lots of countries in one, and they each have their own individual beauty, and their own sets of issues.” Blum bit off the end of a pickle after dipping it in hot sauce. “But there’s a core of humanity and, oh, I don’t know, values that we all share. Sort of the glue that holds us together.” She paused and smiled. “It actually reminds me of my six kids.”

“How so?”

“I can’t remember one day while they were growing up that they all got along. Not a single day all those years. Someone was calling someone a name. One was hitting another. Two others were in a screaming match. And the two others were playing together and having a wonderful time. Then the next day they’d be at each other’s throats.”

“What do you take away from that?” asked Pine.

“All you can hope is that if one of them gets sick, or gets hurt, or really needs help, that the others will come to their aid. Other than that, I’m afraid all bets are off. Life is messy, and people are just deluding themselves if they think someone will just wave a wand and everyone will suddenly play nice in the sandbox. It’s just not how we’re wired, apparently.” She paused once more to take a sip of her tea. “But I have to say, even with all that yelling and fighting, when there were good times, they were pretty damn great. Wouldn’t trade ’em for anything.”

They got back into the car, after putting the top down, and drove west.

“I could get used to this,” said Blum. “Maybe we should make it an annual thing.”

“Thelma,” said Pine.

“What?”

“I have to be Thelma. You get to be Louise.”

“Well, you and Geena Davis are about the same height. And I can’t tell you how many people say I resemble Susan Sarandon,” she added with a self-satisfied smile.

“So, we’re good to go?”

“So good to go I could scream.”

And Blum did just that, while waving her hands in the air like she was cheering at some sports competition.

Atlee Pine had never laughed harder in her life.

Pine sat in her newly renovated office, adjusting the controls on her state-of-the-art ergonomic office chair that could do just about anything except fly, although there might be a control for that, too, somewhere. She ran her hand over the mahogany wood of her new desk, looked down at the fresh carpet, and then over at the new solid wood door.

But when she glanced at the wall, the indentations were still there.

Blum had been of the opinion that they should remain as a deterrent. And Pine had heartily agreed.

Pine stared down at the news story on her laptop screen. The country was buzzing about some momentous changes that had taken place within the government. Some very-high-up leaders had suddenly announced their resignations. These included top generals at the Pentagon, the head of Homeland Security, and the attorney general, all with differing explanations, but none involving their participation in a foiled plot to blow North Korea off the map. Others had been reassigned in an unexpected shakeup that had caught many off-guard. And certain key advisors within the White House had also resigned, saying they wanted to spend more time with their loved ones. And the president had, out of the blue, announced that he might not seek reelection. Lastly, the peace talks with North Korea had been restarted, but now with South Korea and Japan in the lead roles.

Even by recent standards, it had been an extraordinary news cycle. Dobbs had evidently used the DVD to full advantage. She expected him to be nominated as deputy director any day now. Hell, she thought, maybe he should run for president.

Her office phone buzzed.

“Yes, Ms. Blum?”

“Special Agent Pine, there’s a gentleman to see you.”

“What about?”

“He’s from Washington, DC, with a request.”

“Okay.”

The door opened, and Blum escorted in a short man who looked to be in his early thirties. He carried himself in a very cocksure manner. His features were sharp and his gaze even sharper. He was dressed in a blue suit, stiff white shirt, and solid tie, with a handkerchief carefully aligned in his breast pocket.

Pine stood. “What can I do for you...?”

The man said, “I’m Walter Tillman. I’m with the federal government.”

“So many say, and yet it doesn’t always turn out to be true. Can I see some ID?”

He took out his wallet and showed her an ID card with his picture on it.

“Okay, what do you want?”

“To formally invite you to DC.”

“Why?”

“To talk with some folks there who want to meet you.”

“Why?”

He flinched and his look darkened. “They think you’re talented and want to recruit you to work on some matters for them directly.”

“I already have a job.”

He looked around the small office. “Look, no offense, but you’re in a crummy office in the middle of nowhere.”

“No, I’m in my FBI resident agency office in the middle of beautiful Arizona, within spitting distance of the only natural wonder of the world located in this country.”