As if hearing some silent cue, Black Tie pops open his briefcase and holds it out to her. She takes the folders, and though the case is now empty, Black Tie doesn’t close it. He moves away from the group and sets it on the conference table, then remains standing next to it. I have not seen him make eye contact with anyone since getting out of his SUV. Not blind, but . . . drugged? Sleepwalking?
Blue Tie locks his eyes on each soldier, then on me. It’s the first time he’s looked directly at me, and something in his gaze—the improbably intense blue of his irises, the faint smile that never leaves his face even when he’s delivering grim pronouncements—makes me feel worms wriggling in my spine.
“I’m afraid we do need to ask all but executive personnel to leave at this time,” he says, still looking at me.
“Now wait a damn minute,” Kenerly says.
“Our presentation contains sensitive materials that are only appropriate for upper management,” Yellow Tie says.
Rosso takes a small step toward her. “Listen, Ms. Representative of the Goldman Dome Branch of the Axiom Group. I’m already breaking policy for you by holding this meeting in secret. I see no reason why my officers and advisors shouldn’t hear whatever you have to say.”
Blue Tie leans in close, lowering his already deep voice into a strangely intimate rumble that he has not used until now. “Our ideas require a certain broadness of perspective to be appreciated. We find that people who are not in positions of power tend to lack this perspective. They tend to fixate on details they find distasteful instead of considering the value of the proposal as a whole.”
“Once you have agreed to our proposal,” Yellow Tie says, “you are welcome to share the information with your people in a form that they can appreciate.”
“But I’m afraid at this time,” Blue Tie concludes, “we do need to ask all but executive personnel to leave.”
The Armory is silent. The muffled sounds of Citi’s citizenry ooze through the walls like the murmurs of ghosts. Watching Rosso’s face, his jaw muscles flexing behind his skin, I feel my cautious confidence sloughing away. He may be stronger than he looks, he may be wiser than Grigio was, more open-minded, open-hearted, and open-eyed, but he has lost control of this situation, if it was ever possible to have it.
“Major Kenerly,” he says without breaking away from Blue Tie’s stare, “you and your team can wait outside.”
“Sir, this is—”
“If our guests prefer to do business in secret, like criminals, we can indulge them for a moment.”
“But sir . . .”
Rosso looks at Kenerly, his eyes softening. “We pick our battles, Evan. We pick no battles, if possible.”
Kenerly hesitates, then salutes and turns on his heel. The soldiers begin to file out but I find myself unable to move. A thought bounces around my skull, so certain and insistent, I’m not sure it’s mine.
Don’t go. Don’t leave him here.
But I have to.
Don’t do it.
The whisper is faintly familiar, but my head has hosted many different voices, and I’m no good with names.
What am I supposed to do?
Don’t leave him.
“R,” Rosso says. “You can go.”
“No,” I say.
“Go, R.”
“You can’t trust them.”
“They’re not asking for trust,” Rosso says, “they’re asking for cooperation. And I’ll decide if we can cooperate once I’ve heard their pitch.”
Three grins shower me with affability.
Kenerly grabs me by my shoulder, but I don’t budge.
“It’s just a meeting,” he says, addressing me directly for the first time I can recall. “Classified meetings used to be standard procedure.” He seems to be trying to convince himself as much as me. “Move.”
He shoves me toward the exit and I start to walk, falling in line with the rest of the men. In the mirror of a Range Rover I see Rosso turn to face the pitchmen. I see Yellow Tie opening her folder. I hear the noxious warmth of her voice fading behind me. I walk past weapons and trucks and through the long, dark corridor, and the moon looks small when I emerge.
Kenerly and his men take posts outside the Armory door, but I can’t wait here with these stoic pillars of protocol while my thoughts snarl and bark at each other. I lumber out into the empty streets. The city is asleep. I am alone under the buzzing lamps.
I need a drink.