lives.
On the one hand, Kyle felt as though he was taking the fall for Joey. He hadn't touched Elaine that night, yet it was his life and career
now getting hijacked by Bennie Wright and his dirty little video. Shouldn't Joey at least know about it?
And on the other hand, Kyle couldn't convince himself that he should drop the bomb on Joey at this point. If he, Kyle, took the Scully & Pershing job and met the demands of Bennie Wright, and didn't get caught, there was a decent chance the video would eventually be forgotten.
Hours later, during a break in the game, with Blair off in the ladies' room, Kyle suggested they meet Sunday for breakfast. He needed to leave town early, he said, and might it be possible to get together without Blair for an hour or so? Let her sleep in, maybe?
They met for bagels at a shop owned by a chain, a place that had not existed when Kyle was at Duquesne. Blair was still asleep somewhere, and Joey admitted to needing a break. “Sweet girl,” Kyle said more than once, and each time felt guilty for lying. He could not imagine a life with such a windbag. She had great legs, though, the type Joey had always coveted.
They talked about New York for a long time--life in a big firm, the grind of the city, the sports teams, other friends who were there, and so on. Kyle eventually brought the conversation around to the old Beta gang, and they played catch-up for a while. They laughed at pranks and hazing and parties and stupid stunts pulled by themselves and others. They were twenty-five now, far removed from the craziness of their early college days, and the nostalgia was fun for a few minutes. Several times, the “Elaine thing” was at the surface, waiting for a comment or a question, but Joey did not mention it. It was forgotten.
When they said goodbye, Kyle was convinced Joey had buried the episode forever, and, more important, no one had brought it to his attention recently.
He drove north to Interstate 80, then headed east. New York
was not far away, neither in time nor in distance. A few more weeks in the cozy world of academia, then two months prepping for the bar exam, and in early September he would report for duty at the largest law firm in the world. There would be a hundred associates in his class, all bright kids from the finest schools, all polished and decked out in their newest clothes, all anxious to jump-start their brilliant legal careers.
Kyle felt lonelier each day.
BUT HE WASN'T exactly isolated, not even close. His movements to, in, and around York and Pittsburgh were closely monitored by Bennie Wright and his gang. A small magnetic transmitter, the size of a man's wallet, was tucked away under some mud and dirt in the rear bumper of Kyle's red Cherokee. It was hot-wired from the left taillight and emitted a constant GPS signal that kept track of the vehicle anywhere it went. From his office in lower Manhattan, Bennie knew precisely where the Jeep was located. He was not surprised by Kyle's visit home, but the trip to see Joey Bernardo was far more interesting.
Bennie had no shortage of gadgets--some high-tech, some low-tech, and all very effective because he tracked simple civilians and not real spies. Corporate espionage was far easier than that of the military or national security variety.
Kyle's cell phone had long since been compromised, and they listened to every conversation. The kid had yet to mention his predicament to anyone on the phone. They were also listening to Olivia's chatter, as well as that of Mitch, his roommate. So far, nothing.
They were reading Kyle's e-mails. He averaged twenty-seven a day, and almost all were law school related.
Other efforts to listen were far more difficult. An agent had eaten at Victor's in York, at a table twenty feet from Kyle and his father, but heard almost nothing. Another had managed to land a seat
two rows away at the Penguins game, but it was a wasted effort. At Boomerang's, though, one of Bennie's stars, a twenty-six-year-old
On the one hand, Kyle felt as though he was taking the fall for Joey. He hadn't touched Elaine that night, yet it was his life and career
now getting hijacked by Bennie Wright and his dirty little video. Shouldn't Joey at least know about it?
And on the other hand, Kyle couldn't convince himself that he should drop the bomb on Joey at this point. If he, Kyle, took the Scully & Pershing job and met the demands of Bennie Wright, and didn't get caught, there was a decent chance the video would eventually be forgotten.
Hours later, during a break in the game, with Blair off in the ladies' room, Kyle suggested they meet Sunday for breakfast. He needed to leave town early, he said, and might it be possible to get together without Blair for an hour or so? Let her sleep in, maybe?
They met for bagels at a shop owned by a chain, a place that had not existed when Kyle was at Duquesne. Blair was still asleep somewhere, and Joey admitted to needing a break. “Sweet girl,” Kyle said more than once, and each time felt guilty for lying. He could not imagine a life with such a windbag. She had great legs, though, the type Joey had always coveted.
They talked about New York for a long time--life in a big firm, the grind of the city, the sports teams, other friends who were there, and so on. Kyle eventually brought the conversation around to the old Beta gang, and they played catch-up for a while. They laughed at pranks and hazing and parties and stupid stunts pulled by themselves and others. They were twenty-five now, far removed from the craziness of their early college days, and the nostalgia was fun for a few minutes. Several times, the “Elaine thing” was at the surface, waiting for a comment or a question, but Joey did not mention it. It was forgotten.
When they said goodbye, Kyle was convinced Joey had buried the episode forever, and, more important, no one had brought it to his attention recently.
He drove north to Interstate 80, then headed east. New York
was not far away, neither in time nor in distance. A few more weeks in the cozy world of academia, then two months prepping for the bar exam, and in early September he would report for duty at the largest law firm in the world. There would be a hundred associates in his class, all bright kids from the finest schools, all polished and decked out in their newest clothes, all anxious to jump-start their brilliant legal careers.
Kyle felt lonelier each day.
BUT HE WASN'T exactly isolated, not even close. His movements to, in, and around York and Pittsburgh were closely monitored by Bennie Wright and his gang. A small magnetic transmitter, the size of a man's wallet, was tucked away under some mud and dirt in the rear bumper of Kyle's red Cherokee. It was hot-wired from the left taillight and emitted a constant GPS signal that kept track of the vehicle anywhere it went. From his office in lower Manhattan, Bennie knew precisely where the Jeep was located. He was not surprised by Kyle's visit home, but the trip to see Joey Bernardo was far more interesting.
Bennie had no shortage of gadgets--some high-tech, some low-tech, and all very effective because he tracked simple civilians and not real spies. Corporate espionage was far easier than that of the military or national security variety.
Kyle's cell phone had long since been compromised, and they listened to every conversation. The kid had yet to mention his predicament to anyone on the phone. They were also listening to Olivia's chatter, as well as that of Mitch, his roommate. So far, nothing.
They were reading Kyle's e-mails. He averaged twenty-seven a day, and almost all were law school related.
Other efforts to listen were far more difficult. An agent had eaten at Victor's in York, at a table twenty feet from Kyle and his father, but heard almost nothing. Another had managed to land a seat
two rows away at the Penguins game, but it was a wasted effort. At Boomerang's, though, one of Bennie's stars, a twenty-six-year-old
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