The Passenger (The Passenger, #1)(83)

Oh I think it’s more than likely.

And this would go on for?

Ever.

Western drank the last of his wine. I dont have anywhere to go, do I?

Do you want some coffee?

All right.

The waiter appeared. In a few minutes he brought the coffee. Kline drank his black. Do you have any assets at all?

No.

What did your sister do with her share of the money?

She bought a violin.

A violin?

Yes.

How much money did you give her?

Something over half a million dollars.

Damn. How old was she?

Sixteen.

Can you give that kind of money to a sixteen year old?

I dont know. There’s probably a State law. Like marriage. I gave it to her in cash.

How much was the violin?

A lot. It wasnt a Stradivarius but something pretty close.

Where is it?

I dont know.

But it could solve a good deal of your immediate cash problems.

I know.

What else.

What else.

What has occurred recently in your life that you dont have an explanation for.

I lost a good friend on a commercial dive in Venezuela.

Yes. You told me. The company is supposed to be looking into it.

Taylor’s.

Taylor’s. Yes. But you havent heard anything.

No.

What else.

Two years ago they broke into our house in Tennessee and carried off a bunch of my father’s papers and my sister’s papers and all the family letters going back almost a hundred years. They took the family photo albums. They took all the guns in the house and some other things apparently to make it look like a burglary but of course it wasnt a burglary.

They did.

Yes.

It’s always a they, isnt it?

I dont know.

But it didnt occur to you to empty out your checking account.

Western didnt answer.

Kline raised two fingers for the bill. You havent thought about this very much, have you?

I guess not.

I know what you do think.

What do I think?

You think that you’re smarter than they are.

So?

So it wont help you. They’re not any smarter than they have to be and they’re just as smart as they need to be.

Goldilocks operatives.

Yes. They’re just right. And you’re not.

What else. About them.

Their dedication. It’s really remarkable. And everyone’s guilty. They dont have to even think about it. They are never in pursuit of the guiltless. It wouldnt even occur to them. They would think the entire notion comical.

The waiter brought the bill. Kline paid in cash. Are you ready?

They walked out through the parkinglot. I cant advise you what to do, Bobby. But I get the sense that you’re just waiting. The problem with that is that when what you’re waiting for gets here it will be too late to do anything about it. If you want to do the ID package let me know.

Thanks. I appreciate it.

All right.

You think I’m not being straight with you.

I dont know.

I dont know what else to tell you.

It’s all right.

There’s a letter from her that I’ve never opened.

Why not?

I just didnt.

It would be too sad.

Western didnt answer.

Let me try again. It’s because then you would know everything that you will ever know. As long as you havent read the last letter the story’s not over.

Something like that.

It might tell you where the violin is.

It might. She had some money too. I just have a hard time with this.

Well. Her things are going to go somewhere.

Western nodded.

It was a cool day. Overcast. A threat of rain. When they got to the car Kline stood leaning on the roof. He looked at Western.

When smart people do dumb things it’s usually due to one of two things. The two things are greed and fear. They want something they’re not supposed to have or they’ve done something they werent supposed to do. In either case they’ve usually fastened on to a set of beliefs that are supportive of their state of mind but at odds with reality. It has become more important to them to believe than to know. Does that make sense to you?

Yes.

What is it that you want to believe?

I dont know.

Why dont you get back to me.

All right. What else.

That’s all.

You still think there’s something I’m not telling you.

I’m not worried.

You mean I’ll get around to it.

People will tell a stranger on a bus what they wont tell their spouse.

It’s pretty bleak, isnt it?

He didnt answer. They got in the car. Kline started the engine. I’m not sure you even get it, he said.

Get what?

That you’re under arrest.

I’m under arrest.

Yes. You’re not charged with anything. You’re just under arrest.





He moved to a shack out on the dunes just south of Bay St Louis. In the evenings he’d walk the beach and look out over the gray water where skeins of pelicans came laboring down the coast in their slow tandem flights above the offshore swells. Improbable birds. At night he could see the lights come up along the causeway. Lights along the horizon, the slow passing of ships or the distant lights of the drilling rigs. There was cold water from a cistern at the house but no electricity. A small castiron railroad stove in which he burned driftwood. He’d no money to buy bottled gas for the cookstove so he cooked on the woodstove as well. Rice and fish. Dried apricots. The days cooled and he sat on the beach in the raw wind off the gulf wrapped in an army blanket and read physics. Old poetry. He tried to write letters to her.