“The hell I am.”
“You’re bluffing. And you’re pretty close to lying. Let me think.” I did that, right in front of him, as another gust blew a small aluminum spoon off the table. I reached down to retrieve it. “So it’s been the guns all along, right? You always knew that Kajevic killed those American soldiers with stolen guns the Roma had sold him. But it’s the arms that didn’t get stolen you really don’t want to talk about. Right? Because you guys—you and Merry and Attila and the Army—you’ve been playing rope-a-dope: Accuse us of a crime we didn’t commit, massacring four hundred Roma at the Cave in Barupra. Maybe we’ll even provide some evidence that tends to support that. Because it helps to conceal our actual crime.”
“A crime?” Roger sat back. He was trying to look outraged, but he was clearly alarmed. “What crime?”
“I can’t tell you that, Rog. Not yet. But generally speaking, people don’t tolerate getting accused of atrocities in front of the world unless they’re hiding something else. And the secret they’re keeping usually isn’t that they have bad table manners. It’s something that would get you guys in real trouble.”
“Nobody committed a crime,” Roger said. “And unless you just got reappointed as the United States Attorney, it’s none of your fucking business anyway.”
“Okay,” I said. “Just tell that to the Times. But it’s bad juju, isn’t it, Rog? Did the weapons actually get to Iraq? You were part of it, right? You were the intelligence liaison on that deal, whatever it was. You’re hanging out somehow. You and Merry, too. I think you and Merry, you’re the guys who are going to be naked in public, you and your peckers, once people start asking about those guns.”
He didn’t answer, just stared. He needed a haircut. The wind was pushing around the scruff of gray hair that had grown over his ears.
“You took the wrong approach, Rog,” I said. “You should have told me you needed a huge favor.”
Calculation quickened his light eyes now that he’d been exposed.
“I need a huge favor,” he said.
“Too late,” I answered. “Chips fall where they may. Burn me up, if you have to. But I’m going to point the reporters straight at the rest of the story if you do. Your best chance is that we finish our investigation about what happened to those people, say whatever we should say in public, and leave the rest of the details in the file. If I have any discretion, Rog, I’ll exercise it the way you were sure I would when you recruited me for this gig. You knew if I had any choice I’d protect you. And, believe it or not, I still will. Because you used to be a really good friend.”
I walked away and turned back with a parting thought over my shoulder.
“Enjoy your holiday.”
While I was in Bosnia, Nara had gone to Belgrade to meet with Bozic. She didn’t return until Friday night. I lit up like a rocket when I saw her, and we were in bed as soon as she dropped her suitcase. It rained Saturday, but we were content inside.
Often, as Nara dozed beside me throughout the weekend, I thought about my case. I’d been surprised often in the last several months, but if we ended up closing the investigation, I had to figure out what would come next for me professionally. My appointment at the Court was nominally permanent, but the gallant thing would be to offer to resign, since I wasn’t sure anyone envisioned me staying on if the Barupra situation didn’t culminate in charges. I thought I’d made a good impression at the Court and could probably sign on to one of the trial teams, if that was what I really wanted to do. Alternatively, I could return to the US, which didn’t feel right at the moment, or I could take off for my endless summer. But after a gut check, none of these ideas about leaving held any appeal for one principal reason: Narawanda could not come with me, given her commitment to the Kajevic case. So that meant I was staying in The Hague, at the Court or with another organization.
If I’d had a chalkboard four or five years ago on which I listed the qualities of the person I thought I’d end up with, Nara would never have matched. I pictured myself, for example, with someone more socially graceful than I am and with greater natural warmth, someone who’d be able to supplement shortcomings I rued in myself. But I had accepted the glory of the future, which is that it is unknown, and had never bothered with a list. The truth was that for reasons that surpassed understanding, I was at home with Nara, not only in love, but also at peace. God only knew if it would last. But I couldn’t leave until I found out.
On Sunday, it turned beautiful once more and we took the day by the sea. Returning to the apartment in the late afternoon, we were full of summer ardor, that sensation when the sun seems to bring all your nerves to the surface of your skin and desire becomes more urgent after the long touch of the light winds. We ended up in her bed for the first time, a location that seemed somewhat symbolic.
Afterward, as the light leaked from the room, I put a question to her that had long lingered unspoken.
“Do you want to have children?” My tone was neutral and curious, as if it was just one more thing I needed to ask to know her better.
“Lewis is against it now. He says it is too dark a world to bring children into.”
“And where will the light come from?”
“It is an excuse, I know. He is reluctant to distract himself from his career and what is important to him.”
I noticed that Lew still occupied the present tense.
“And are you willing to accept that?” I asked.
“Unclear. I have not come to the moment of not accepting it. Yet I have never agreed. It has been something—like too many other things—that we put off. My mother keeps hinting, naturally.”
I finally asked how old Nara was and she became cutely evasive.
“Guess,” she answered.
“Be careful now, chérie,” I said, a phrase that had been spoken several times a week on the Trappers’ radio broadcasts when I was a boy, at moments when the opposing team was threatening to score.
She giggled.
“On looks?” I asked. “On looks you could pass for twenty-three.”
“Brilliant,” she said, although I meant it.
“But doing the arithmetic on your education and career, I thought you were about thirty-eight.”
“Thirty-seven. I was ahead in school.”
I repeated the number. “It might be time to think about whether you want to do this.”
“Have children?”
“Yes.”
“I always thought I did, while I was growing up. Most of me probably still feels like that. What do you advise?”
“About whether you should have children? I think I should have no views on a question like that. But if you ask me about my own life, it’s unimaginable without my sons. For me, becoming a parent completely changed my idea about what it means to walk on this planet. Most people would say the same thing. It’s as if the world has gone from flat to 3-D.”
“So you would say I must.”
“The one ‘must’ is for you to decide what is best for you. But as someone who cares for you deeply, I would wish for you the same profound connection my children brought to my life. I didn’t even completely know how badly my marriage was working until the boys were out of the house, because I had been so happy they were there.”
“And would you have more children?” She asked that as lightly as I had about her desire to have kids.