become very popular.” He saw her face and, finally, smiled. “Oh, don’t worry. Don’t worry. Jericho would hardly spread his umbrella of protection over his family and leave you out.”
Sometimes Beck’s mind surprised her with its speed. “All those years. The security officers from the Agency who kept visiting me. This is why, isn’t it? Jericho had me on his list of people who couldn’t be touched, and they wanted to know if I might be part of whatever he’s up to.” Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the wheel. She imagined Jericho, alone in his mountaintop redoubt, brooding as his years of glory slipped further into the past, scheming and conspiring, but with himself as lone co-conspirator. All at once she ached for him.
Dak was not finished. “There’s one more thing, Rebecca. You may be the last person on the face of the earth Jericho loves. If anybody can talk him out of this madness, it’s you.” His cool eyes measured theeffect of his words. “There’s nobody else, Rebecca. You have to do it. For the good of your country. And because—”
She waited him out. “Because?”
“Because, sooner or later—unless Jericho changes his mind— somebody might decide to take the chance. Your dear Jer-Bear could wind up in one of those secret hospitals after all.”
The smile had gone ice cold.
CHAPTER 9
The Message
(i)
The drive from town was forty-five minutes in daylight and good weather, but that night she made it in twenty-five flat through a freezing rain. She practically hydroplaned through part of the woods, but barely slowed. Nobody ran her off the road. No black helicopter buzzed her. She felt foolish and small, caught up in battles too large for her abilities, but another part of her wondered whether Phil Agadakos was as crazy as Jericho; or whether, even, the two of them were in it together—whatever it was—the A & A boys, fulfilling one last project before the end.
This is for your own good. You can’t go anywhere near his autobiography. And you have to tell him that as loudly and clearly as you can .
She wanted to believe that Dak was exaggerating, that nobody would care about secrets well over a decade old. But she reminded herself that this was a world in which cartoons could spark deadly riots. All points of the ideological compass were rife with hatred and fanaticism, searching for outlets. There were reasons other than avoiding embarrassment for keeping Jericho alive, and appeased. Philip Agadakos, in short, could be acting from honorable motives.
Or maybe not. Ever since Dak’s top-secret history lesson, Beck had been trying to avoid the obvious. William Colby had died in 1996, and Jericho Ainsley had started his steep slide soon after. That was whatAgadakos wanted her to understand: a year after Rebecca left him, Jericho had slipped from unbalanced to unhinged. Dak, no fool, was trying to feed the very guilt that Dr. Eisenstadt was trying to help her overcome. The more responsible Beck felt for whatever Jericho was up to, the better the chance that she would help stop him.
And if that was Dak’s plan, it was working.
She turned in at the immobile gate, and there was no Chevy Suburban and no dead dog. But there were two new cars up at the top of the hill, and one of them was Deputy Mundy’s cruiser. Beck flew up the steps and, lacking a key, leaned on the bell. But Pamela already had the door open. Pete Mundy had his hat in his hand. An older man in an ill-fitting suit was barking orders. Two unsmiling strangers, a man and a woman, sat talking to the family. The atmosphere was grim.
Audrey forced upon her an unwanted hug, and, holding Beck within all that motherly softness, tried to explain what was going on. Rebecca hardly heard. She was staring at the settee, where Jericho himself sat—in slacks, not pajamas—oxygen bottle on a little trolley in case it was needed, looking sad but somehow tough, momentarily fit.
Then she tuned in the news that had forced
Sometimes Beck’s mind surprised her with its speed. “All those years. The security officers from the Agency who kept visiting me. This is why, isn’t it? Jericho had me on his list of people who couldn’t be touched, and they wanted to know if I might be part of whatever he’s up to.” Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the wheel. She imagined Jericho, alone in his mountaintop redoubt, brooding as his years of glory slipped further into the past, scheming and conspiring, but with himself as lone co-conspirator. All at once she ached for him.
Dak was not finished. “There’s one more thing, Rebecca. You may be the last person on the face of the earth Jericho loves. If anybody can talk him out of this madness, it’s you.” His cool eyes measured theeffect of his words. “There’s nobody else, Rebecca. You have to do it. For the good of your country. And because—”
She waited him out. “Because?”
“Because, sooner or later—unless Jericho changes his mind— somebody might decide to take the chance. Your dear Jer-Bear could wind up in one of those secret hospitals after all.”
The smile had gone ice cold.
CHAPTER 9
The Message
(i)
The drive from town was forty-five minutes in daylight and good weather, but that night she made it in twenty-five flat through a freezing rain. She practically hydroplaned through part of the woods, but barely slowed. Nobody ran her off the road. No black helicopter buzzed her. She felt foolish and small, caught up in battles too large for her abilities, but another part of her wondered whether Phil Agadakos was as crazy as Jericho; or whether, even, the two of them were in it together—whatever it was—the A & A boys, fulfilling one last project before the end.
This is for your own good. You can’t go anywhere near his autobiography. And you have to tell him that as loudly and clearly as you can .
She wanted to believe that Dak was exaggerating, that nobody would care about secrets well over a decade old. But she reminded herself that this was a world in which cartoons could spark deadly riots. All points of the ideological compass were rife with hatred and fanaticism, searching for outlets. There were reasons other than avoiding embarrassment for keeping Jericho alive, and appeased. Philip Agadakos, in short, could be acting from honorable motives.
Or maybe not. Ever since Dak’s top-secret history lesson, Beck had been trying to avoid the obvious. William Colby had died in 1996, and Jericho Ainsley had started his steep slide soon after. That was whatAgadakos wanted her to understand: a year after Rebecca left him, Jericho had slipped from unbalanced to unhinged. Dak, no fool, was trying to feed the very guilt that Dr. Eisenstadt was trying to help her overcome. The more responsible Beck felt for whatever Jericho was up to, the better the chance that she would help stop him.
And if that was Dak’s plan, it was working.
She turned in at the immobile gate, and there was no Chevy Suburban and no dead dog. But there were two new cars up at the top of the hill, and one of them was Deputy Mundy’s cruiser. Beck flew up the steps and, lacking a key, leaned on the bell. But Pamela already had the door open. Pete Mundy had his hat in his hand. An older man in an ill-fitting suit was barking orders. Two unsmiling strangers, a man and a woman, sat talking to the family. The atmosphere was grim.
Audrey forced upon her an unwanted hug, and, holding Beck within all that motherly softness, tried to explain what was going on. Rebecca hardly heard. She was staring at the settee, where Jericho himself sat—in slacks, not pajamas—oxygen bottle on a little trolley in case it was needed, looking sad but somehow tough, momentarily fit.
Then she tuned in the news that had forced
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