"You're pretty smart, huh?" Dorothy said.

  "Smart enough to see the obvious," I said, forcing a smile.

  "How obvious is it where you were?" Dorothy said.

  "As in, you think I have anything to do with this?" I said, putting my hand on my chest and grinning wide.

  "As in, just for the record," Dorothy said, poising her pen.

  "With my wife," I said. "In bed. Doesn't get more obvious than that, does it?"

  "What can you tell us about Scott?" Amanda said.

  I did, trying not to gush.

  And it worked. I just kept repeating the story the way Jessica told me, and the more I said it, the more confidence I had in it, the more it seemed like it really happened that way. It was like glue setting, this flimsy liquid that suddenly holds together two big boards. They stared at me and nodded their heads. Every once in a while, they'd look at each other, like they knew something. But it wasn't about me. They kept asking about Scott. They even asked if there was any possible connection between him and the union and Johnny G. I had to say that in this business, anything was possible. When I left the police office, Ben's car was still there, but I never saw him and I didn't want to. My stomach was still knotted, but the nausea was fading. I knew I did good and I couldn't wait to tell Jessica. I put in the Doors CD and let my hands bang out the rhythm on the steering wheel while I leaned through the curves. When my phone rang, I almost didn't answer, but it was my office and I felt like part of my mind was back to normal. Then the image of James dying hit me so suddenly and so hard, I lost my breath, but still I managed to grab for the phone.

  My secretary had this hushed voice and I had to kill the music. With reverence she told me that Mike Allen wanted me to meet with King Corp's board of directors the next day in New York City for an emergency meeting. Mike Allen was the chairman of the board James had put together. He wanted to talk to me about taking over the company before the IPO. My secretary said Mike already had one of the Citation Xs lined up to take me down. Wheels up at ten.

  I had to stop the car and get out. I looked up at the sky and clenched my trembling hands. She was so good, Jessica. All I had to do was let her push the buttons and things went right. It was she who coached me into my first partnership. It was she who moved me up the ladder. James King never gave away what he didn't have to, and Jessica had always known that instinctively. Now, I would have it all. With James dead and Scott the main suspect, the board would be desperate for someone to man the helm to get through this IPO. The ether of power would be one more thing to help me blur the thrashing image that didn't want to stop. I got back in the car and stayed heavy on the gas. 26

  I COULDN'T SLEEP. The next morning it was cloudy and dark. Jessica got up and went with me, chatting the whole ride to the airport about the architect's columns. Pale green marble, sixteen feet high. When the pilot handed her up the steps into the plane, she looked at me with a smile that sent a hot current through my chest. When the ride got bumpy, Jessica screwed the cap off her water bottle, fished in her purse, and popped something into her mouth before washing it down. When she saw me looking, she said, "Mint." She settled back into her leather seat and closed her eyes, smiling. I forgot about it with all the "yes sirs" and "no ma'ams" from the pilots. James's pilots. Same thing with the limo driver who was waiting for us with an umbrella to fend off the misty rain. We had a suite at the Palace on Madison Avenue. I dropped off Jessica to meet with her architect, then went downtown to the Goldman Sachs offices.

  I was shown to a waiting room with oriental rugs, crystal lamps, and crimson leather furniture. A woman in a tailored suit brought me coffee in a china cup resting on its saucer. After two sips, Mike Allen came in through another door, shook my hand, and sat down next to me. He wore a dark suit with a white shirt and a forest green tie that matched his eyes. His hair was faded blond and combed straight back. His sharp nose and unblinking eyes gave him the air of a predatory bird. Mike was no silver-spoon baby. He climbed the ranks of the UAW until going out on his own with some Detroit investors to make the drive trains they put in SUVs. He built the company up and sold it for a fortune. Now, he was on the board of a dozen major companies. He was the kind of guy who treated his ex-wife like a friend. He was like that with everyone. From the custodian who swept the floors to the billionaires he hung out with, Mike not only liked, but respected you until you could prove you didn't deserve it.

  "We're all sad," he said, lowering his voice and leaning toward me. "But we have an obligation to keep this deal alive. Too many people could get hurt. Goldman has to go through with the IPO. They're committed. We need a leader and I think you're the right person. You know the company, and what it takes."

  "I think so," I said, keeping my voice as subdued as his, looking down at my shoes and nodding my head, biting the inside of my lip to keep from heaving.

  "You know, he built this company up from a backhoe and two shovels. This project was his magnum opus. So, just go in there and don't let them get you flustered. It's a tough group. Now look, I can't say it's a done deal, but, well, I've got a lot of say in this."

  "What about Scott?" I asked.

  His pupils dilated and he said, "I don't think he did it, but we can't take a chance with the timing here. This thing is set in motion. I think you'd be the right guy anyway."

  "Thanks, Mike."

  "Remember when you returned that blocked punt to beat Navy? You pulled that off and we won. Come on."

  Mike put his arm around my shoulder, led me through a short marble hallway, and swept me into a long, tall room dominated by a mahogany table and a massive Tiffany fixture. Around the table sat the board. Eighteen people. Mostly men, older, and wearing their dark suits buttoned up tight. I smiled at them all and took a deep breath.

  I was weary, but strong. Saddened, but full of strength.

  In my crazed state, I thought it was my finest moment as a human being. The elevator collected a few more at each stop on the way down, everyone shifting quietly when a new person stepped inside, looking down. When the doors opened at the lobby, I was the first one out and felt the surge behind me. Someone stepped on my heel and when I turned my head, I ended up walking smack into someone. Hard enough to feel their bones.

  Instinctively, I grabbed to keep whoever it was from falling and began a mumbled apology that faded when I saw who it was. Ben's blue eyes got wide and then blinked at me from behind his rectangular glasses. Tiny drops of water clung to his long black raincoat. No umbrellas for him.

  "What are you doing?" I asked.

  "The board," he said, shrugging. His lips perked up into a little smile.

  "They're going ahead with the IPO," I said.

  "I know."

  "They want me to run King Corp."

  "Maybe," he said. He started to edge around me, but I stepped back in front of him.

  "There's no maybe," I said. "They're voting now."

  "That what they told you?" he said. "We'll see."

  I stood straight and looked down at him. He bit the inside of his cheek and brushed past me. 27

  I LEFT THE BUILDING and waved off my driver, telling him to meet me back at the Palace. I let some of the cool wet air into my collar and loosened my tie.

  After a few blocks, I jammed my hands down into the side pockets of my suit coat. My feet were wet, the Bally wingtips shiny but smattered with crud. A chill shook my bones. Cabs hissed by, screeching to a standstill under red lights blurred by the mist. In the distance a siren wailed and the death scene played in my mind. I took out my cell phone and dialed up the driver, calculating how far he might have gone and how long it would take him to get back. I got voice mail. There was a subway station up ahead. I jogged down the steps, jostled by a heavy woman wearing sneakers and a plastic shower cap on her head. The rank smell of decay rode the breeze, pumped in and out of the tunnels by the throbbing cars. I studied the wall map. Somehow, I had wandered all the way to the green line. Behind me, I thought I heard someone laugh the way James used to. My stomach soured. I took the six train uptown to Grand Central and let the mob sweep me up and out onto the wet street and a sky darker than when I'd gone in.

  The doorman at the Palace hesitated before opening up, then followed me with his eyes as I dripped my way across the marble lobby. In the elevator, I stared into the mirror at the stringy wet hair and the bulging eyes of the shivering maniac in the soggy dark suit. Me.

  The living room of our suite looked down on Park Avenue. On the table in front of the velvet couch rested a silver pail. The neck of a champagne bottle stuck out from the folds of a white linen towel. I blurted out a sound that might have been a laugh and struggled with the gold foil, wanting a drink. The cork ricocheted off the crystal chandelier, leaving a soft tinkling sound in the wake of the pop. The door burst open. Jessica and Mike Allen. Real laughter peeling back and forth between them that came to a stop when they saw me.

  "Thane?" Jessica said, taking one step and then stopping.

  There was an awkward moment then and I did my best to smile.

  Mike stepped up and said, "Hey, not celebrating without us, are you?"

  My mouth went slack. Mike extended his hand.

  "Congratulations," he said, grinning. "I knew you'd do it."

  "I . . . thank you."

  "Thank you," Mike said, taking Jessica by the arm. "And I didn't tell you this, but you, both of you, are going to ring the opening bell on Thursday. It'll be on CNN. I tell you, you got the greatest wife."

  Jessica splayed her fingers across her chest, bending them back.

  "Not me," she said. "I'm not going on TV."

  Mike nodded at her, grinning still. He raised two champagne glasses off the tray and held them out to me. I poured.

  "How come you're all wet?" he asked, handing a glass to Jessica.

  "Just thinking about everything. Took a walk," I said, now filling my own. "Didn't realize it was coming down like that."

  "A lot to think about," Mike said, raising his glass. "To King Corp, the man who founded it, and the man who's gonna make it run."

  Our glasses clinked and we drank. Jessica shot me a look over the rim of her fluted glass.

  "Mike's taking us out," she said. "Why don't you change?"

  "Sure," I said, setting down the empty glass. "You two have another. I'll just be a second."

  I was stripped down to nothing with the shower leaking steam when she slipped in.

  "What happened?"

  "I'm washing up," I said.

  "Where were you?"

  "I saw Ben."

  "And?"

  "Jessica," I said, reaching for her hands, "I think he knows."

  "He knows you're the CEO. That's all he knows," she said, her voice hushed, but urgent. "That's all he could know. It'll be fine."

  I shook my head.

  "I keep seeing him," I said, "James. Fighting me. The blood. I'm sick."

  "Do you think I would have married you if you weren't strong?" she said. "You are."

  "I'm sorry."

  She put her hand on my cheek and kissed me lightly. "Hurry, okay? Just keep going. Don't think about anything more than getting dressed, dinner. Simple, stupid things.

  "Trust me," she said, showing me the smooth scar on her palm. "Horrible things happen. If you just keep going, they fade."

  I let the hot water pound the subway stink from my skin and hair and scrubbed up fast. My clothes were all laid out on the bed for me. The olive suit. The rust-colored tie she liked so much. Fresh brown shoes and a matching belt. I forced a smile onto my face and joined them, this time managing to produce a sound close enough to a laugh so that it seemed like I was in on the fun. Jessica had changed into a slim low-cut satin green dress. Her hair was up, exposing her neck and the subtle curves below. The contrast to her normal clothes was stunning.

  Mike took us to the Lever House, a long white tunnel with honeycombed walls, deep booths. Elevated at the end of the long room was a trapezoidal hole in the wall and a long table for parties, almost on a stage for everyone to see. Our table. Many of the board members joined us, some bringing spouses. They all seemed to know one another. I kept expecting Ben, and I tossed down champagne like water, but he never showed.

  The attention of the entire place was on us. Jessica's eyes sparkled and she kept her arm draped across my shoulders, occasionally toying with my hair or touching her lips to my ear. At some point, the waiter put a grilled piece of tuna in front of me. I swallowed it in chunks, forcing a couple of them down into the disrupted pit of my stomach. I could feel the heat of the wine. A soft buzzing sang out in my ears and I wrapped my fingers around Jessica's leg. She giggled. We were both drunk.

  Halfway across the room, a man getting up out of a booth and moving toward the bathroom caught my eye. He was burly. A white mane of hair. My mouth went dry. I closed my eyes tight and willed the fish to stay down before I opened them again.

  "Ow, Thane," Jessica said, knocking my hand off her leg.

  "James," I said, the word barely making it past my lips as the man disappeared into the crowd at the bar.

  "Dessert," Jessica said in a low voice. "What are you having? Just look at the menu."

  Mike tapped my shoulder and leaned toward me from the other side, his cheeks shiny like apples.

  "First thing you do after you ring that bell?" he asked. "What are you thinking?"

  I looked at him and got my bearings, biting hard on the inside of my mouth to bring me back.

  "Fire Ben," I said, then chuckled.

  Mike started to laugh. He raised his glass and drank more wine. "Serious."

  "I am."

  "You can't do that."

  "CEO can do anything," I said, my heart leaping. "I'm running it, remember?"

  I wasn't looking at him or anything. The words sounded surreal in my mind. Jessica was listening, and her face eased around my shoulder, farther into my field of vision.

  "He had too much," she said.

  She glowed at Mike, and in her big smile I could see the pointed tips of her canines. 28

  "Canines?"

  "Eyeteeth," I say. "The pointed ones."

  I look at him and see the confusion, so I pull up my lip between my finger and thumb and run the end of my tongue around my own pointed tip.

  "Like a dog's fangs," I say.

  "Are you saying that now?" he asks. "Or was that what you thought back then?"

  "No, I thought it then," I say. "I just did. Her eyes would get squinty."

  "And that's how she looked when you talked about Ben?"

  "I'll tell you when else she looked like that," I say, staring at the bars on the window and a small glinting crack in the glass that I never noticed before. "She had that smile every time we were around Johnny G, and he'd smile like that right back at her."

  "And you were jealous?"

  "Don't be stupid."

  He looks at me without blinking, then looks down at the file. "You never talked about this before, right?"

  "Maybe not."

  "When were all of you even together?"

  "You know how I told her that those union guys wouldn't deal with a woman? And I'm sure they never did. But with her, man, she could cut right through it. She was a beautiful girl. But it was business. That's all."

  I am shaking my head. I cross my arms and lean my chair up on its two back legs. The dirty window glows with some watered-down light from the sun, then fades back to pewter.

  "Tell me," he says, "about when the three of you were together."

  It was the night before we rang the bell on Wall Street.

  There was a charity ball at the new Time Warner Center. Everyone who was anyone in the city was there and I guess Johnny G, with all the political connections the union has, was one of them. Two glass towers looking out over Central Park. Fifty-five stories high. The new place in New York. Limousines crowding Columbus Circle and white reception tents extending from the front of the building out to the street. Inside, Cirque du Soleil put on a show in the four-story lobby and men in tuxedos carved up animal legs, serving out thin strips of meat onto plates with silver tongs. We were Mike Allen's guests, and he introduced us to all the big players. Gray-haired men with trophy wives and even a few with their originals. Movers and shakers whose eyes darted at Jessica like gnats. We drank and ate and smiled, making bullshit small talk until we lost Mike in the crowd somewhere near the lamb chop station.

  Above us, colored smoke swirled in the spinning lights. A mime swung from a trapeze and launched into the empty space. He did two flips and came out of it in a swan dive. You could see he wasn't going to make it to the next swing. I felt my heart leap and heard others around me gasp before he caught it by his teeth.

  Sporadic applause peppered the hum of a thousand people talking about themselves. Jessica had her head tilted back, exposing her neck and the small swell of her breasts above the line of her Vera Wang gown. Her hair framed her face and a simple tortoiseshell band held it in place. When she looked at me and raised a glass of champagne, I remembered Mike Allen's words, "a hell of a wife." She was. I was light-headed and only half of it came from the wine. I took her hand, pulled her to me, and kissed her on the lips. When we separated, I saw Johnny G standing there with his teeth showing in that grin. Beside him was a brassy yellow blonde, her brittle hair stacked up high, implants swelling her breasts into globes.

  Johnny's face was nearly as red as his crooked silk tie and the ruffled cummerbund. He made a guttural noise and hugged me to him, patting my back and scratching the side of my face with his five o'clock shadow. He introduced his wife, Tina. Jessica shook her hand, but she was looking at Johnny with that smile they shared.

  "Life is good, eh?" Johnny said, winking at me, punching my shoulder lightly, spilling some red wine from his glass. "How about all this? Did you get one of those lobster tails?"

  He hugged his wife's naked shoulders to him.

  "I love a good tail, you know?"

  Tina swatted his hand and nuzzled his ear.

  "You like lobster?" he asked Jessica.

  "Of course," she said, raising her glass before taking a drink. She yawned.