in a fit of helpless coughing, Janson dragged him out of the elevator. The man swung at Janson, a sluggish, poorly aimed uppercut. Janson dodged the punch and struck the Ruger against his temple in a controlled blow. The Novak impostor crumpled to the floor, unconscious. A quick frisk verified that there was no envelope on his person.
Now Janson crept toward Zinsou's office, pausing just before the doorway. The sounds came both from his earpiece and through the door.
A clear, tinny voice in his ear: "This is all a bit unexpected." Zinsou was speaking.
Janson turned the knob, threw open the door, and rushed in, the Ruger in his right hand. Demarest's reaction to the intrusion was immediate and deft: he repositioned himself directly behind Zinsou. There was no line of fire that would reach him and not strike the secretary-general.
All the same, Janson fired - wildly, it seemed: three shots high overhead, three slugs smashing into the window, causing the whole pane to buckle and then disintegrate into a curtain of fragments.
And there was silence.
"Alan Demarest," Janson said. "Love what you've done with your hair."
"A poor shot, Paul. You shame your teacher." Demarest's voice, at once rich and astringent, resounded in the room as it had resounded in his memory for so many years.
A cool gust of wind riffled a pad of yellow paper on the secretary-general's desk: it underscored the odd reality of being windowless on the thirty-eighth floor, with nothing but a low aluminum grille between them and the plaza far below. Sounds of traffic from the FDR Drive mingled with the cawing of gulls that wheeled and soared at eye level. There were darkening clouds overhead; soon it would rain.
Janson looked at Alan Demarest peering around Zinsou, who was obviously struggling to maintain his composure and doing far better than most would. Beneath the black pools of Demarest's eyes, he saw the bore hole of a Smith & Wesson .45.
"Let the secretary-general go," Janson said.
"My policy with cat's paws has always been to amputate," Demarest replied.
"You have a gun, I have a gun. He doesn't need to be here."
"You disappoint me. I thought you'd prove a more formidable antagonist."
"Zinsou! Walk. Now. Get out of here!" Janson's instructions were crisp. The secretary-general looked at him for a moment, then moved from between the two blood enemies. To Demarest, Janson said, "Shoot him and I shoot you. I will take the opportunity to shoot you. Do you believe me?"
"Yes, Paul, I do." Demarest spoke simply.
Janson waited, Ruger in position, until he heard the door close.
Demarest's eyes were hard but not devoid of mirth. "The football coach Woody Hayes was once asked why his teams so seldom threw the forward pass. He replied, 'If you put the ball up in the air, only three things can happen, and two of them are bad.' "
Incongruously, Janson recalled Phan Nguyen's obsession with American football. "You sent me to hell," he said. "I think it's time I returned the favor."
"Why so angry, Paul? Why so much hate in your heart?"
"You know."
"Once things were otherwise. Once there was a connection - something we shared, something deep. Deny it if you want. You know it's true."
"I don't think I know what's true, anymore. I owe you that."
"You owe me many things. I shaped you, made you who you are. You haven't forgotten, have you? I never held back. You were my prize protege. You were so smart and so brave and so resourceful. You were a fast, fast learner. You were made for great things. The way you turned out ... " He shook his head. "I could have made you great, if you had allowed me to. I understood you the way nobody else did. I understood what you were truly capable of. Maybe that's what really spooked you. Maybe that's why you rejected me. Rejecting me was a way of rejecting you, rejecting who you truly are."
"Is that what you believe?" asked Janson, fascinated despite himself.
"We're different from other people, both of us are. We know the truths that others can't deal with. The Scythian called it right. Laws are like cobwebs - strong enough to catch the weak, but too weak to catch the strong."
"That's bullshit."
"We're strong. Stronger than the others. And together, we would have been so much stronger still. I need you to acknowledge the truth about who you are. That's why I brought you in, had you come to Anura, lead that last mission for me. Look around you,