works on reason still."
"Does he?"
"As said. Talk's time is over. Big action calls."
"What action plans?" I asked.
"I suspect he feels I'm going to do something to him."
"What?"
"What I plan to do to him." he said. "I'll need assistance.
Assistance most silent. Cunning calls."
Traffic slowed as we neared the Downtown Control Zone, even
in the IA lane. Inland, just before the barricade, I saw traffic
stilled along Canal Street, all awaiting passage through the Holland Tunnel, the only Hudson crossing open for public use. New
deflooding devices were being installed, and it was open only a few hours each day. The Lincoln Tunnel-closest to Midtown,
and to the Javits Center-and the George Washington Bridge,
high above water and sturdy, were reserved for Army use sole.
Oil slicks on the river, combusting, flared yellow fire as I looked
across the river's surface; old boxes, tires, papers, and wood drifted
down with the current. The sun's light, eking through clouds,
shone on Jersey City's spires, and made ashimmer the waters'
ripples. As eve drew, blue lights would arise from the Hudson's
silent passengers and float like balloons across the surface of the
deep. No one fished out corpses anymore; they all had their reasons for being there.
"My assistance?"
"You'll recompense."
"For what?"
"I won't demand," he said, "But I will detail."
"Do," I said.
"You'll need assist, after," he said. "But that in a mo. Tomorrow we weekend, upstate. The birthday, AO?" Mister Dryden's son would be ten the next day; his son and his wife lived at
the estate, for security's sake. "All sets as looks appear till night.
I access you to his study. Sunday he enters to program. You rig
a blast. Drape it in terrorchic. Any group suffices, though Maroon might best it. He goes in. He goes up. You're safetyplayed,
meantime. "
I didn't respond at once-that he slipped back into full bizspeak to outline his program, as if fearful that he might be heard,
even over the water's din, even in his own car, suggested that
more was up than seemed evident.
"AO," I nodded.
"You could method it," he said. "You walk the walk. You
talk the talk."
"AO," I repeated. With plasticine and powder and a quartz
timeset a blast was the easiest thing to rig.
"Reaction?" he asked.
"You're sure it's necessary," I asked. "No other option?"
"Nada," he sighed. "His fear grows and he sets danger for
all, OM. Keep him boiling as at present and we'll be meat for
the stew. If he snaps, it won't be me alone. He'll take my son.
Avalon, probably. You, definitely. Set him loose on the path he
knows and he could lose it all twice over. He's not above much.
If he ever chose to do what he could, all'd be lost for all. Untermed, he might do it yet."
"Do what?" I asked, realizing what subject he neared.
"Worry not, wonder-"
"AO," I interrupted, seeing I'd come no closer this day; seeing
that soon I might. "You mentioned recompense?"
"Certain," he said, the hint of a smile shading his lips. "Loving You" started up on his soundtrack. "First, a move would be
ordered. Afterward, a readjustment of rank. If son becomes father, then who becomes me?"
"Me?"
He nodded. "You've valuabled yourself thirty over, OM. Time
comes to take you from guarding and put you in your place. As
my righthand, you know so much as I. You'd become CEO."
"What about Jake?" I asked, thinking of that Kyoto sword.
"His talent lies where he leaves it. Yours needs the touch of
free air. "
"How long have you been thinking about this?" I asked,
doubtful still.
"Longtime," he said. "But the top only holds so many. Room
must clear first. You'll clear. Then you'll move."
"AO," I said.
"Second," he said, "Recompense further is already effected.
A different readjustment." Extracting a blue envelope from his
jacket pocket, he handed it over.
"What's this?" I asked, breaking the flap's glue.
"My will," he said, "Revised as of last week."
It was; I recognized the signatures of
Catelynn Lowell, Tyler Baltierra