Kennedy raised his brows but did not comment. Instead he beckoned to the waitress for another round.
Their meals came before the drinks, which was probably a good thing, though Jason realized he should have ordered more than salad. It was hard to eat right on the road. Too many skipped meals or eating late at night or ransacking vending machines because that was all that was handy. So he ate salads for dinner when he could, but he usually wasn’t drinking more than a beer or two.
Kennedy lived out of his suitcase though, and he sure as hell seemed fit, so whatever he was doing seemed to be paying off.
“Something wrong?” Kennedy asked.
“Why?”
“You’re scowling at me.”
“Er, no. I was just thinking.”
“I could tell from the look of pain.” Kennedy grinned. Jason had been treated to that very white, dangerous flash of teeth before. It still made him blink. “So what do you like best about ACT?”
Jason digested the fact that Kennedy was joking with him. He was bothering to make normal conversation with him. In fact, he was actually showing an interest in Jason. Interest in Jason personally. It was flattering. Hell, it was liable to go to his head. Or maybe that was the second kamikaze.
“Like best? Well, I like the feeling I’m doing something that might have long-term, lasting ramifications. There’s a lot of misconceptions about what we do. We don’t only recover stolen art or lecture museums on how to protect their collections. Not that that wouldn’t be important enough. You solve a murder, and there’s another murder tomorrow. You save the Mona Lisa, and you’ve saved something that will move and inspire and delight generations of people.”
“You don’t think it’s important to solve homicides?” Kennedy said.
“Of course I think it’s important. That’s not what I’m saying. It’s just that…people keep killing other people. That’s the worst of humanity. Art is the other side of the coin. It represents the best of humanity. And what I’m here for is to try and protect that…legacy. Our cultural heritage. And by our, I mean everybody. Our global cultural heritage. I mean the world. Art is the world. It’s history. It’s culture. It’s spirituality. It’s…everything that sets us apart from animals.”
“It’s the other side of the coin,” Kennedy quoted gravely.
Jason mentally replayed the last fifty-eight seconds of their conversation and winced. “I think two kamikazes on an empty stomach was not such a great idea. Did I just imply I believe what I do is somehow more important than human life? Because that’s not what I mean. What I mean is, I couldn’t do what you do. I would…lose hope.”
Kennedy’s brows drew together. He said after a moment, “I meant what I said a little while ago. You did good work today.”
Jason looked up in surprise.
“I know you didn’t want to go in there. I know it wasn’t easy for you. We needed to know what we were dealing with, and you got that intel.” Kennedy was making an observation not offering sympathy.
“He’s in better shape than I expected from someone kept in solitary confinement for that long.” Jason couldn’t hide his bitterness.
“He’s a survivor.”
“I never believed in the death penalty until I joined the Bureau. Even after Honey, I used to think there was probably something salvageable in everyone.” Jason’s smile was twisted. He hid it behind his glass.
“No,” Kennedy said. “Unfortunately not.”
“Is it true the number of serial killings have increased over the years?”
Kennedy took his time answering. “What has increased is the number of random acts of violence. Once upon a time you could almost guarantee that in most homicides the victim knew or was at least acquainted with his or her killer. That’s been changing for a while now.”
“And that’s what I like best about the ACT,” Jason said.
Kennedy raised his glass in salute.
After that the conversation moved into neutral channels. They talked about generalities. Not about the case so much, though ostensibly that was the reason for staying in Boston and meeting for dinner. And Kennedy, as expected, did not reveal much of himself.
Music was always a safe topic of conversation though, and Kennedy admitted he was partial to Mendelssohn.
“Mendelssohn? I thought the serial killers were the ones who were supposed to listen to classical music and swill Chianti.”
“You couldn’t pay me to swill Chianti. Swill is the right word. But I like classical music. Also George Winston. I’ve heard him in concert a few times.”
“George Winston? My parents love George Winston.” What Jason was actually thinking was you go to concerts? He couldn’t picture it.