Sherwood said to one of the escort agents, “We need to talk to Bernie privately. Like, out in the hall. Away from the crowd.”
One of the escorts nodded, and said, “We can give you some room, if it’s really necessary. We’d want to be in the hall with you.”
“That’s fine.”
Bernie asked, “What’s going on?”
“We need to see where you’re at, Bernie,” Sherwood said. “I’ve spent a year and a half worrying about you.”
“Maybe you should worry about my father…”
“We do that, too.”
Bernie looked like he was about to blurt “Bullshit,” had his lips already puffed to do that, but Lucas leaned into him and grunted, “Hallway. Now.”
• • •
In the hall,they stood in a doorway to a stairwell, while the two escort agents stood twenty feet away, one on either side ofthem, looking away. Sherwood started: “Bernie, I’m kind of worried about you. You haven’t been in touch with friends in Russia, have you?”
“What? Fuck no! What are you talking about? The Russians killed my mother! I don’t have any friends in Russia!”
“They killed your mother by accident,” Sherwood said. “They were trying for your father. Then they tried again, and now they might have tried a third time. The only way I can think of how they could do that, three attempts, would be if somebody close to the situation was talking to them. Doing something.”
Lucas, standing six inches too close: “Somebody like you, Bernard.”
“You guys are crazy,” Bernie said, edging away from Lucas, focusing on Sherwood. “I loved Mama. How many people are around Papa? Two dozen, three? People coming and going all the time now, doctors, nurses, so many I can’t even remember them all.”
“How about Papa?” Lucas asked. “You love him, too?”
“Yes! I love Papa, too! He’s my papa!” Bernie protested. He was sweating, a shine on his forehead and beside his nose, and maybe tearing up. If it was an act, it was good. “He’s the only one left in my family. Except for Papa, I am alone.”
“Just you and Papa’s money,” Lucas said. “That’d keep you warm during those long Moscow winters.”
“Back off, Davenport,” Sherwood snapped. “I’ve worked with this man for a long time now. I can’t imagine that he could have anything to do with what’s happening…”
“C’mon, Sherwood. The guy’s a weasel,” Lucas said. “I know a weasel when I see one.”
“You are the man who was supposed to protect my mother andmy father, and did you do this?” Bernie’s language was beginning to fall back into Russian rhythms. “You did not do this. You failed. You are looking for somebody to blame for your failures.” He turned to Sherwood: “You, too.”
“I believe you’re okay. We had to talk. Take it easy,” Sherwood said.
“I don’t think he’s okay. I think he’s lying through his fuckin’ teeth,” Lucas said. “If it turns out his father’s been poisoned, who else could have gotten to him?”
“Fuck you. I don’t talk anymore,” Bernie said. He called to his escorts: “Come on, guys, I go back to the apartment.”
• • •
As they watchedthe three of them walk toward the elevators, Sherwood asked Lucas, “What do you think?”
“He might have been about to take me on. You see him set his feet? He’s had some training.”
“Yeah, and I didn’t know that,” Sherwood said. “He’s always come across as a weenie, and that’s what I thought he was.”
“If he gets on that phone, and does anything, even a couple little clicks, some prearranged signal, we’ll know that the trap might snap. If he doesn’t…I don’t know what that would mean.”
“Might not be the phone. I’ll ask the FBI to get one of their tech geniuses to put a keystroke logger on his laptop, see if he’s going out to anyone. We should have done it before now. All I’ve ever seen him do on his laptop is play games and watch videos.”
“Do it,” Lucas said.
