fellow off the clock. Some years ago, you roped in Detective Holland's husband, but he had a change of heart. He thought he might expose this entire operation and got himself killed instead. Holland put your business partner, Mr. Yancy, in prison. Ever since Yancy escaped, the Sorter has been screaming about it.”
The lieutenant looked uncomfortable, but he wasn't about to pretend that he was a paragon of morality.
He said, “You're right. I kept those results from Holland.”
“But you couldn't keep Yancy from her.”
“That was the point, after all.”
“You want to destroy Ruth Holland, but not without torturing her first.”
“You think you're better than me?” Keller stood up and pointed at the blood stain on the floor. “You're a goddam murderer. And I may have helped you cover up the evidence of Todd Laurel's innocence, but you and I are in different leagues.”
“Calm down, Lieutenant.” said Reggie. “Yes, let it be known that I do think I'm better. Everything I do serves a higher goal. I was once a chess player, as you said. Nonetheless, I realize the importance of cooperating with animals such as yourself.”
“When it serves you.”
“If we both benefit, what's the difference?”
Keller shook his head and said, “Fine, what have you got?”
“John Smith is a decent man with a violent temper. Such people are useful when they're predictable. Just wait. Today is the day, Lieutenant Keller. You will get your scandal and you will get Detective Holland the way you want her.”
The other man looked at his watch and headed for the door. He stood by it, pointing a finger at Binder and shouting.
“I'm counting on you.” he said. “Figure out these other two visitors you have and fix this bug in the Sorter. You might think you're in charge, but don't you forget that I know enough to bring you down at any moment. If you make a fool of yourself, I will not hesitate to cut you loose. I'll bring your entire company down and put you in prison. I'll rip the Sorter apart and lock it away in an evidence room.”
“You shouldn't worry.” said Binder as he held out his hand towards Todd Laurel's drying blood. “Haven't I shown you I have the commitment to do what it takes?”
SEVEN
Will they find out? Will they come after me?
Marianne was trapped in the La Guardia security line with no one to talk to but her own mind. She shouldn't have spoken to her mother like that. She shouldn't have walked out. But she couldn't stop herself. She was desperate to hide her fear. Marianne's brain was running terrified laps around her head and she couldn't stop it.
Reginald Binder was the least of her worries. There was an unknown quantity there, but she had some confidence she could handle that. She'd handled a few before. Next on the list was the baby. Yes, the baby was a big deal. She wasn't sure how she felt about it, but she was sure she loved the child's father and that they could raise it together. All they had to do was stay out of prison. That was the problem.
She checked her phone. The last message from Paul was from yesterday, telling her that he'd arrived in DC for the Senate hearing on the Sorter. He was supposed to be reassuring her that nothing was wrong, but he was failing this one simple job.
Marianne thought about yesterday. She'd gone up to Stamford to see Paul before he left. He lived in a nice town home, but there was a “For Sale” sign out front. Marianne used her key to enter and found her fiancee at the dining room table going over his notes. All the lights in the house were off and he was illuminated only by the ample sunlight streaming through the bay window. A “Paul Varden For US Senate” sign still hung on the wall behind him.
“It's one thing to be conscious of your carbon footprint, Paul.” said Marianne. “And quite another to make yourself blind over it.”
She flipped on a light and sat across the table from him. Next to the campaign banner was a gas fireplace with a mantle. It had once been cluttered with family pictures, along with pictures of Paul's staff and their families. Paul had always treated his staff well and Marianne liked that he thought enough of them to put their pictures there. Most were gone now, Paul having packed them away. Two remained. One was of Paul's chief of staff and childhood best friend. The man stood with his wife and his fifteen year old daughter. The second photo was of Marianne.
She said, “So the place is listed?”
“Yes.” said Paul. He put away his notes and gave her his undivided attention. She always loved that he did that, even when he was busy with something as important as the US Senate. “I was thinking this weekend we could go look at places together.”
“If I survive.”
“You'll survive. Binder's no match for you.”
“You know what I mean.” she said, pointing at the papers gathered in his accordion folder.
“How is the job search?” said Paul. “Have you told Dale yet?”
Marianne replied with a sigh. This was one characteristic she didn't like. Paul was a politician and no politician who makes it as far as he had, and so quickly, can ever really turn it off. You don't like the topic? Change it. Retain control of the conversation.
Paul said, “You haven't done either. I know you want to leave Blue Water but haven't had the time with this Polymath business. So the problem must be Dale.”
“I can't, Paul. I can't break his heart. I know I have to but I can't.”
“The man is your boss, not your father.”
“I'm afraid of moving.” she said, proving her future hubby wasn't the only one who could play that trick. “I really enjoyed running the campaign trail with you last summer. I liked seeing places. I liked meeting people.”
“And arguing with them.” he said, with a smile.
“All for you, baby. What I'm afraid of is staying still.”
“What makes you think you'll have to stay still?”
Marianne looked down at her belly. There was nothing to see there yet, but she felt it. Paul reached out and put his hand on top of hers. When she looked up again she understood the look on his face. He didn't have an answer for her. He didn't doubt that she loved him, but he knew she was afraid of becoming a house wife. No matter how much he told her that she could continue her work, she would have to hold the home together while he was in DC. And that home was going to be in Stamford, not New York. Her doubts were as easy to see as if they had been that campaign poster, or that lone photo on the mantle. Paul pressed his hand down on hers and she slipped it away. The man, fresh from a major political victory, now looked a little heartbroken.
Marianne said, “Please tell me this isn't illegal.”
“You mean the vote?”
“Yes, the vote. What else?”
“You have to tell Dale.” said Paul. “It's better that he find out now than later. There's nothing he can do to stop you now. Don't look at me that way.” he paused. “Marianne, you and Dale started this deal when Binder's partners came to you and offered you the company. In your own words, you were aiding the rebels in a civil war. Now you're worried about turning on Dale and sabotaging the whole deal, but this time it's not treachery. This time you're making it right.”
Marianne laughed, but not in a happy way. “I guess your mom never told you that two wrong don't make a right.”
“And how is the second one a wrong?”
“It's betrayal. It's back stabbing.”
“Marianne.” said Paul. “I've made a lot of progress swaying people's minds about the Sorter, but I'm only a freshman senator. If this vote passes, it will set a precedent that we can't turn back. It will make us all slaves not just to the Sorter, but to one company. How can that be a good thing?”
“I believe you. I do. I just don't know if it's the right way to do it.” she paused, looked down, and then looked back up at him. “Have you taken it?”
“I have. And I know you have too. It's frightening.”
“Okay.” M
arianne drew a deep breath. “If it's not illegal.
“It's not illegal.” He grimaced and looked at his paper. “But public opinion matters too. I'll let you know if you should jump ship.”
They exchanged a few more words about where they would be over the next few days and when would be a good time to talk. Paul promised Marianne that he would call or text her about the hearings which preceded the vote. He even said that if she didn't hear from him, she should turn around and go home.
Now was the time.
Marianne was still standing in the security line, still waiting for that message. Should she give up? She looked around. She knew it was silly, but everywhere she saw people staring at her. There was a state trooper standing near the TSA checkpoint. They don't usually have troopers there, she thought. Was he waiting for her to approach? Why would he wait instead of coming for her? Perhaps he hadn't seen her yet.
When someone did recognize her, it wasn't in the way she'd expected.
“Aren't you that Senator's wife?” said a male voice.
When Marianne turned, she saw a tall, barrel shaped man with a sweater vest pulled over his white buttoned shirt. Just behind him stood a girl of maybe eight or nine years. She dragged an unbearably adorable little pink suitcase behind her. Her mom held the child's free hand and carried a backpack over her shoulder. A delicate white Celtic cross pattern was embroidered on the bag.
“I'm Senator Varden's fiancee.” said Marianne. “Marianne.”
It should've been strange that she didn't