Part 5 (2/2)

”They don't have to.”

As Walker stared at the face filled with despair, he considered. He said, with a confidence that he didn't feel, ”I'll take the blame. We'll say I made the decision. You'll be in the clear, and I'll take my chances. Okay?”

Winters was angry and desperate, his eyes bulging. ”No. It's not okay. Twelve million is too much blame for one person to take. The excess spills over on everyone. We have to get some of it back.”

”By holding back eight million from the legitimate beneficiary?”

”By negotiating!”

”It's not right, and it won't even work.”

”We'll see,” said Winters. He stepped toward the conference room and reached for the door handle, while Walker took a deep breath.

”No,” he said sharply. ”We won't.”

Winters turned toward him. ”What did you say?”

”Excuse me,” said Walker. He opened the conference room door. ”Mr. Stillman?”

Stillman's eyes rose from the spot on his belly that he seemed to be looking at. He silently pointed at his chest: Me? Then he stood and joined them in the hallway.

Walker kept his eyes on Winters. ”Mr. Stillman, can you get Mr. McClaren on the phone for me, please?”

Winters's face began to turn pale, but he let his features show no sign of surprise.

Stillman said, ”Sure. I'll get him.” He took his cell phone out of his coat pocket, turned it on, and listened for a dial tone, then punched in the numbers. His face showed no emotion. He kept the phone at his ear. ”h.e.l.lo. This is Stillman. Yes. Could you get Mr. McClaren for me, please?”

Winters made a grab for the telephone, but Stillman seemed to know it was coming. He half-turned his body quickly so that Winters's involuntary lunge was stopped when it hit Stillman's shoulder. Winters's breath came out in a huff, and he stood gasping, clutching the s.p.a.ce under his ribs.

Stillman's voice was even and affable. ”Wait, I think you'd better cancel that. I'm on a cell phone, and I seem to be getting interference. Tell him I may call later.” He switched off the telephone and turned to face Winters.

Winters's own action had shocked him. His eyes were on Walker, but they seemed to be looking inward.

Walker said quietly, ”Can you get somebody here to cut him a check?”

”All right,” said Winters.

”I'll wait here.” He watched Winters walking toward the rear office, then noticed that Stillman had already moved off to the front of the building, where the support staff was working.

When Winters returned, Walker opened the conference room door. Walker sat down beside Daphne Pool and waited for Winters to speak. Werfel was up, staring out the window with his hands in his pockets, but Walker could see from the way the beautiful suit hung that the hands must be clenched fists.

Winters said, ”Mr. Werfel, we apologize for the delay, and we thank you for your patience while we worked our way through the bureaucratic difficulties. We've received permission to let you have your full payment today.”

Werfel spun around, stared at Walker, and grinned. Walker didn't smile back.

7.

Stillman walked out to the car carrying an armload of papers in files and binders, put them into the trunk, and got into the driver's seat. He had already started the car before Walker could slip in beside him. Then Stillman drove, maintaining his mysterious, peaceful expression.

”Aren't you going to say anything about it?” Walker demanded.

Stillman seemed to consider the question for a few seconds, as though he were deciding not how to answer it, but whether it had been addressed to him.

Walker persisted. ”Did you know about that-that Werfel was going to be there? Did you set me up to take a fall?”

Stillman's eyes were cold when he turned toward Walker. ”I don't see anything wrong with having you all together in one room. You're the insurance company, and he's your client. If you end up taking a fall, it's your fall.”

Walker was silent for ten minutes while Stillman drove along surface streets, accelerating at the start of each block, then coasting to a stop to wait for each interminable red light. His mind vacillated between hating Stillman and wondering why what he had said seemed perfectly true.

After a long time, Stillman said, ”Don't be so gloomy. What you got was worth the tuition.”

”It was?” said Walker bitterly.

”Sure. One day out in the real world and you got your freedom.”

”Oh, yeah,” said Walker. ”They used to call it 'at liberty,' didn't they?”

”Look at the dark side, then,” Stillman said. ”Say in ten minutes McClaren calls. He's got my cell phone number. He just heard you bluffed Winters into giving Werfel twelve million, and you're fired. No, let's make it good. You're fired, he's already having his secretary call other companies to make sure you never work in that business again, and he's going to sue your a.s.s to recover the twelve. You don't have it, of course, but the story will be in the papers and you'll never work anywhere again.”

”Seriously?”

”Seriously.”

Walker thought for a few seconds. ”Let's see. I guess I'd lose the lawsuit, and go bankrupt. Then I'd learn to live without credit cards and try to start over someplace where all that doesn't matter. Maybe I'd learn to do something-I know-I could go back to college for a year or two to pick up a credential, and try to teach. By then n.o.body in schools would remember I got sued, and they wouldn't care whether I lost twelve million or twelve cents.” He paused for a moment, then said, ”I wouldn't make as much money, but at the end of my life I'd probably feel better than I do right now.”

”I doubt it,” said Stillman. ”At the end of your life you're dying. Probably feels like s.h.i.+t.”

”In the larger sense.”

”Not scared of it, are you?” asked Stillman.

Walker hesitated. ”Not that I can detect, other than the dying part.”

”That's freedom,” Stillman said. ”You've set yourself free. If you're doubting the value of that, go back and take a look at Winters-heart pumping, cold sweat, the taste of metal in his mouth. You should celebrate.”

”I don't think I can afford it,” said Walker. He was quiet for a moment. ”But I think you're right. Maybe I'll quit before they fire me.”

”Don't be too hasty,” Stillman mumbled uncomfortably.

”I went to work at McClaren's because it had a famous name and they wanted me. I went along doing my reports, and after a while, I thought I knew more than I did. McClaren's is a fraud.”

Stillman frowned at him for a second, then said reluctantly, ”Well, not entirely.” He looked at him again, then said, ”I didn't want to tell you this right away, because it might cloud the issue and deprive you of your full measure of freedom. But you aren't going to get fired for what you did in there.”

”I'm not?” He felt the unmistakable jolt of a parachute opening and jerking him to a near stop. He floated down in amazement.

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