Now and then - By Robert B. Parker Page 0,9

turning Coke glass seemed to have waned for Epstein. His attention was on me with nearly physical force.

“The lover is Alderson,” I said. “The husband appears to be one of your agents.”

“Shit!” Epstein said. “Who?”

I shook my head.

Epstein was silent for a moment, then he took his cell phone off his belt and dialed a number.

“Shauna?” he said. “It’s me. I’ve run into something and I won’t be back in the offi ce today . . . no, in the morning . . . tell him in the morning . . . thanks, babe.”

He broke the connection and put the cell phone away. Then he signaled to the bartender and when she came pushed the Coke toward her.

“Take this away,” he said. “Bring me an Absolut martini on the rocks with a twist.”

We sat silently beside each other at the bar until the martini came. He looked at it for a moment, picked it up, and took a meaningful pull.

“Better?” I said.

“You have no idea,” he said.

“I might,” I said.

“I’m going to have to know who the agent is,” Epstein said.

“He may be guilty of nothing but a bad marriage,” I said.

“I have to know,” Epstein said.

“Yes,” I said. “You do. But I won’t tell you until I know the deal.”

“You can get jugged for contempt,” Epstein said, “until you tell me.”

“I know,” I said.

“But you won’t tell me anyway.”

“No.”

“Might put some pressure on the guy hired you,” Epstein said.

“Might,” I said.

“If he’s a stand-up guy,” Epstein said.

“He might be.”

Epstein drank some more of his martini. He looked affec tionately at the glass while he swallowed.

“I have worked with you a couple times,” Epstein said, “and know you to be a big pain in my tuchis.”

“Nice to be remembered,” I said.

“You been a tough guy so long, you forgot how to be anything else.”

“But sensitive,” I said.

“My ass,” Epstein said.

“Wow,” I said. “Two languages.”

Epstein finished his drink and gestured for another. The bartender looked at me. I nodded.

“What we got brewing here,” Epstein said, “is a fucking impasse.”

“We do,” I said.

“Which is not going to do either one of us any good,” Epstein said.

“True,” I said.

Our drinks came. We both allowed them to sit untouched for a dignifi ed moment. Then we both took a swallow.

“You got any thoughts on how to resolve it?” Epstein said.

“I do.”

“Thought you might,” Epstein said. “Keep in mind that counterterrorism is not grab-ass. One of my agents gets compromised, people may die and some of them may not deserve to.”

“I know,” I said.

“Your plan?” Epstein said.

“I’ll fi nd out,” I said.

“What?”

“Everything, and I’ll keep you informed on anything you need to know.”

“And you decide what I need to know?”

“We’ll collaborate on that,” I said. “If I find that your agent is compromised, I’ll give him to you.”

“I agree to that and the bureau finds out, I’ll be working the teller’s window at a drive-in bank in Brighton.”

“If you can make change,” I said. “I was never good making change.”

“When you say everything, do you include Blue Squall?”

“Not unless I bump into it,” I said. “I’ll investigate my client, his wife, and her lover.”

“Perry Alderson,” Epstein said.

I hadn’t mentioned Alderson’s fi rst name.

“Yep.”

“Last Hope,” Epstein said.

“Yep.”

“We’ll look into it from that end,” Epstein said.

“Maybe we’ll meet in the middle,” I said.

“We fuck this up,” Epstein said, “and I go down in flames.”

I shrugged.

“Think of it as a blaze of glory,” I said.

“And if I do,” Epstein said, “I’ll take you with me.”

“No pain, no gain,” I said.

12 .

Isat at the counter and sipped a scotch and soda, tall glass, a lot of ice, to support the two I’d had with Epstein. I liked to drink alone in the quiet room. This was widely held to be the hallmark of a problem drinker, but since I rarely drank too much, and since I could drink or not drink as circumstance dictated, I was able to relax about it, and have a couple of drinks alone, and have a good time.

Susan was in New York overnight for a conference and Pearl was visiting me. I had fed her when I got home, and taken her out, and now she was on her couch looking at me without censure. Pearl II was a solid brown German shorthaired pointer like her predecessor. Thanks to the magic of selective breeding, she was, in fact, very much like Pearl I, which was sort of the idea. A way to manage mortality a little. She loved Susan and me, and running, and