A Song of Shadows (49 page)

He handed Ross two more sheets of paper, stapled together. They contained a list of typewritten names, most of them with sums of money beside them.

‘Those came from a plane that crashed in the Great North Woods of Maine in 2001. I think you know what they are, but in case you haven’t been keeping up with events, they’re the names of compromised individuals, men and women who, for want of a better term, have struck deals with the devil. They’re either corrupt, or they can be corrupted. They’re ticking time bombs waiting to used against you – against all of us.’

Ross went down the list of names, running an index finger under each one. On two occasions he whispered the word ‘Jesus.’ When he was finished, he placed the papers face down on the table.

‘Some of these names have been redacted,’ he said. ‘Did you do that?’

‘They’re people I’m personally curious about,’ said Parker. ‘For now, they don’t concern you. If I think you should be worried about them, I’ll pass on the information in time. Consider it part of our agreement.’

‘We don’t have an agreement.’

‘Yet.’

‘Are there more of these pages?’

‘Lots.’

‘When do I get them?’

‘When do I get my first check?’

‘Jesus.’

‘You said that already.’

A waiter approached, but Ross waved him away.

‘I’m not running an employment agency,’ he said.

All trace of good humor vanished from Parker’s face.

‘Listen to me, Ross: you’re hunting, and you’ve used me in your hunt when it suited you, but whatever is happening here, whatever is approaching, I’m tied up with it, and I’ll be there at the end. You need me, and I’m offering to cooperate.’

‘And the rest of the pages?’

‘Those should keep you occupied for now. I’m working my way through the list. I’ll pass on more names at regular intervals.’

‘No deal. I want them all – immediately.’

‘I said “cooperate,” not “capitulate.”’

‘I can get a court order. I can tear apart your house. For God’s sake, I can have you locked up!’

‘And I guarantee that you’ll never see any more of that list than you already have. Come on, Ross. My retainer is about what you spend on printer ink in a month.’

Ross looked at the list. He looked at the contract. He stopped just short of putting one in his right hand, the other in his left, and weighing them against each other.

‘I’ll be in touch,’ he said.

Parker stood.

‘Talk to Aimee,’ said Parker. ‘Oh, and I told her you’d take care of her fee. Enjoy your lunch.’

Ross watched him leave. When he was gone, he took out his cellphone and dialed a number. Epstein answered on the second ring.

‘We have Parker,’ said Ross.

75

C
hristian Froberg smelled something burning as he worked on the busted leg of a chair in his garage. The smoke had an acrid tinge, and he heard Milo barking. He stepped into the yard and saw Amanda standing beside the barbecue, a plume of smoke rising before her. He didn’t shout, didn’t make a fuss: he had learned to be careful where Amanda was concerned, especially in recent days, as the truth about her grandmother had become known.

Slowly he approached her. He saw photographs burning, faces curling in the flames, and books, and a pair of soft toys that she had brought with her to their home – all of them given to her by her grandmother. Her shoulders were heaving as she consigned them to the flames. He did not speak, but simply drew closer to her. After a moment, he put his arm around her, and felt her lean into him.

Together they watched her past burn.

76

S
am came to stay the next weekend. Parker met Rachel in Concord for the pickup on Friday evening, and assured her that he’d have Sam back at the same spot for collection by late on Sunday afternoon. He and Sam caught a movie at the Nickelodeon in Portland, and ate garlic bread with prosciutto followed by pizza at the Corner Room. Afterwards they walked along the waterfront before driving back to Scarborough. Sam brushed her teeth and waited for her father to kiss her goodnight. As he leaned over, she hugged him tight, and whispered in his right ear.

‘You have to stop asking about me, Daddy,’ she said.

He froze against her. He tried to push her away so that he could see her face, but her grip was viselike around his neck.

‘How did you know?’ he asked.

‘Jennifer told me,’ she said.

My God, my God …

‘You can see Jennifer?’

‘I’ve always been able to see her.’

And in that moment he thought that he knew his purpose, the reason for all of the blood and fury, the grief and pain. What was it Ruth Winter had said to him?
Sometimes I think we’re only put here to watch over our children until they’re ready to take care of themselves
.

‘Sam, I don’t—’

‘Listen, Daddy. Please. We can’t talk about it. We just can’t.’

‘But why?’

‘Because it’s not time, not yet.’

She released him, but only so that she could watch him, so that she could put her hands to his face and consider his reaction, and he thought that he had never looked in the eyes of one so beautiful and yet so ancient.

‘And because they’re listening,’ she said, and her tone almost stilled his heart. ‘They’re always listening. We have to be careful, daddy, because they’ll hear. They’ll hear, and they’ll come …’

Acknowledgments

As always, I rely on the goodwill and knowledge of a great many people to make me appear better at what I do than I actually am.
Hunting Evil
by Guy Walters (Transworld, 2009) proved an invaluable resource in the writing of this book, and a trove of anecdotal and statistical details.
Hitler’s Furies: German Women in the Nazi Killing Fields
by Wendy Lower (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2013) was a fascinating insight into the female killers of the Nazi era, while
Boomerang: Travels in the New Third World
by Michael Lewis (W.W. Norton & Company, 2011) inspired some of Marie Demers’s views on elements of national character.
The Years of Extermination: Nazi Germany and the Jews, 1939–1945
by Saul Friedländer (HarperCollins, 2007) became a crucial tool in the crosschecking of information. Meanwhile,
United States Attorneys’ Bulletin
(Vol 54, No 1, January 2006), detailing the work of what was then the Office of Special Investigations, provided much of the background to cases and procedure used in this book. I am also deeply grateful to Eli Rosenbaum, the Director of Human Rights Strategy and Policy at the Human Rights and Special Prosecutions Section of the Department of Justice for taking the time to answer my questions. I should stress that any opinions expressed in this book are my own. I don’t want to make the job of the HRSP any harder than it already is. Thanks, too, to Dr Robert Drummond for his guidance on medical issues, and to Rachel Unterman for checking particular details of the story. Any errors are mine.

I’d be all at sea without my editor at Hodder & Stoughton, Sue Fletcher, and Emily Bestler, my editor at Atria Books/Emily Bestler Books, so my thanks to them both, and to all those at Hodder and Hachette who continue to support my work, including Swati Gamble, Kerry Hood, Carolyn Mays, Lucy Hale, Breda Purdue, Jim Binchy, Ruth Shern and Frank Cronin; and everyone at Atria and Simon & Schuster who looks after me, including Judith Curr, Megan Reid, David Brown, and Louise Burke. Darely Anderson and his angels in London remain the best agents a boy could ask for. Clair Lamb, minion beyond compare, acts as a voice of reason and friendship, and Madeira James and all at xuni.com keep me connected to the digital world, and try to explain concepts like the Internet to me without raising their voices. Meanwhile, Kate O’Hearn, author and good soul, took care of clearances, which sounds much easier than it actually was.

Finally, love and gratitude to my partner and fellow author Jennie Ridyard, and to Cameron and Alistair. I mean, what would be the point without you all?