The Goodbye Man

71

Both wearing blue jeans and shirts — his gray, hers black — Shaw and Victoria sat on the bench where they’d met the day of Eli’s Discourses.

She had kept the blue quilted vest provided by the Foundation. Shaw’s jacket remained in the gym bag. He didn’t mind the fractional chill in the pungent air. His Eccos were on his feet; his soles still ached from the sprint to try to save John, while wearing those flimsy slippers, and he decided against the boots he’d worn here. Victoria, however, was in boots, stylish, low-topped, brown, with two-inch wooden heels.

They were subdued. The view was stunning but, after all that had happened, Shaw wasn’t able at the moment to appreciate the aesthetics. They had both gotten their phones from the AU unit and Shaw now called the local hospital. He got through to a doctor in the emergency room and asked about Anja’s condition.

“She’s stable. She’ll survive. Your relationship, sir?”

“An acquaintance.”

“There’s no next of kin in her personal belongings.”

“I can’t help you there.” Then Shaw had a thought. He gave the doctor Steve’s name and told him that he’d have the man call. “They work together.”

He relayed this news of her condition to Victoria. Then: “I don’t know legally how involved she was in his scams,” he continued. “She knew a fair amount about the operation. Didn’t report it. That won’t go well for her.” His head swiveled slowly. “I should have made sure she stayed in the residence. After she helped me break into the computer I should’ve known that he’d turn on her like that.”

“If she wasn’t onstage, it might’ve looked suspicious. Eli could have guessed something was going on.”

Still, Shaw said, “She didn’t deserve what happened to her.”

Victoria was quiet: she disagreed, he could tell. She would be a woman to whom very little happened if she didn’t want it to happen.

She asked, “Do you think... when she thought she was dying, do you think she believed she was going to advance to the Tomorrow?”

“Maybe.” It was possible. Though Shaw was also thinking: whatever comfort would be vastly overshadowed by the agony she felt realizing that the man she loved had just ordered her death.

“Oh, look.” Victoria touched his arm. Her eyes were skyward.

A golden eagle soared. Most likely it was the same one he’d seen earlier. They were territorial animals; they ruled over an area that might extend to sixty or seventy square miles, and woe to any plumed creatures that encroached. Golden eagles are the second fastest bird on earth, diving on prey at two hundred miles an hour. Only the peregrine falcon is faster.

This one, however, was in leisurely transit through the clear azure sky.

After a moment Victoria said, “Not revenge.”

“Hmm?”

Scooting slightly away, she turned to him. “You said I was taking a big risk for revenge, coming here to kill Eli. It wasn’t that. It was public service.”

Shaw waited.

“I was stationed overseas. I had a mentor there. You ever serve?”

“No.”

“Then you don’t know. There’re two enemies. There’s the enemy enemy, and then there’s the one you work with — and for. I’m not going to go where some women do and say that because you’re a man you don’t get it. There are lots of reasons people don’t get things and being a man might or might not be one of them. I don’t know. I’ll just tell you: we have to fight on both fronts. Women do. Gretta was my protector and friend. We took on the Taliban, and we took on Staff Sergeant George Watts and Chief Petty Officer Wayne DeVonne and Lieutenant Colonel Bradley J. Gibbons, who’d have a tantrum if you didn’t include the ‘J’ in his name when you introduced him.

“It wasn’t every day and it wasn’t full-on. Never attempted rape. It was flirting. Brushing up against you. Put-downs and bullying. It kept up until they felt you finally had the balls to do the job. Funny, that’s how everybody put it. Male genitalia. Women and men. Nobody ever said, you have the ovaries to do the job.”

She offered a mild smile. Shaw too.

“Gretta taught me to stand up... no, I should say, she taught me how to stand up. When to say, yes, sir, or ma’am. When to say no. When to ask why. When to call bullshit. When to know that you’re going to put up with bullshit because bullshit’s part of everybody’s job. This’s all pretty damn abstract, isn’t it?”