Page 63 of His Wall

Then I said it.

"We pulled a name last month. From one of the founding-era trust records. We don't know what it is yet."

He picked up his martini.

"Whose name?"

"A judge. We'll figure it out. Just — wanted you to know we're still cleaning up after you."

His face did not change.

He drank. He set the glass down with a small click.

"Whitlock?"

I nodded.

"Oh, Charlie." He almost laughed. He shook his head. "Charlie was a regulatory friend from the early days. He used to sign approvals for half the new shops in the city. He probably has no memory of the Vanguard at all anymore."

He tipped the rest of the martini back.

"You boys are seeing ghosts, Julian. Let Charlie go. He is nothing."

He set the glass down. He pulled out his wallet and laid a $100 bill on the table without looking at it. He stood. He put his coat on.

"Walk me to the train, Julian. The rain has let up."

I walked him to the train. He hugged me on the platform. He held me by the shoulders and looked at me for a second. He said, "Take care of yourself, son." He got on the train. The doors closed. He was gone.

I stood on the platform for a full minute after the train had left.

I walked home in the rain. Forty minutes of relief I had not felt in a year.

He had used my name. He had used the son. He had asked about Thea. He had ordered the second round.

He had said Whitlock? before I had said the name.

Three years ago I had walked across town in the rain to ask one man one question and I had walked out forty minutes later having handed him the only piece of intelligence he needed. Declan, Nolan and I had a door but did not have a key, and that nobody at the Vanguard understood yet what we had found.

He had used the time.

I put my hands flat on the desk. I lifted them. I put them flat again. I stood up. I crossed to the window and put my forehead against the cool glass and tried to make my breathing even.

I stood up and went home. Thoughts of Conrad and Vanguard kept circling my thoughts.

I picked up my phone. I pulled up Declan's name. My thumb hovered.

I put the phone down.

Declan would want to act. Nolan would want to contain. Either way, by morning Conrad would know I had moved, and moving without a full hand was how people disappeared. I did not yet know what I had.

I picked the phone up. Put it down. Picked it up again.

I thought about who was left.

Claire was not in the architecture. She was not a partner, not a principal, not a name Conrad would flag as a threat. She was a woman who worked for me and who had kissed me at a railing and pushed me away in my office.

She did not know any of this. That was the only thing tonight that felt like safety.