After the Darkness

Gavin Williams glanced around the table at his so-called colleagues. If he could, he would have ripped every one of their hearts out with his bare hands and stuffed them down Harry Bain's smug, self-satisfied throat till he choked. What did any of them have to laugh about? They were all part of the biggest, lamest operation in FBI history. If he, Gavin, were running the show, things would be different.

Harry Bain said, "Okay, then, so it's all on this trip to Geneva."

John Merrivale had spent the last three weeks researching a huge swap trade from 2006. The trail led as far as a numbered account in Switzerland, then went cold.

"Gavin, I'd like you and John to make the trip together this time. Two heads may prove better than one."

John Merrivale failed to hide his surprise. He and Gavin Williams usually worked independently, following up on separate leads. This was the first time Bain had asked them to travel together.

"I'm f-fine to handle the Geneva trip alone, Harry."

"I know you are. But I'd like the two of you together on this one."

John Merrivale's relationship with Harry Bain had come a long way since Harry's "bad-cop" interview with him, before Grace's trial. It had taken months to persuade not just Bain, but the entire task force, that he was on their side, that he was as much a victim of Lenny Brookstein as anyone else. But slowly, with the steady, quiet patience on which he'd built his entire career, John Merrivale had won them over. He was no longer frightened of Harry Bain. But at the same time he didn't want to cross him. John still loathed confrontation. As much as Gavin Williams's dour, monosyllabic presence was bound to ruin the Switzerland trip, John didn't want to fight about it.

Harry Bain said, "We need to build some more team spirit. Bounce ideas off each other more. Somehow we've got to break this deadlock."

John Merrivale tried to imagine a scenario in which anyone might "bounce an idea" off Gavin Williams. Bain really must be getting desperate.

THE FLIGHT FROM NEW YORK WAS bumpy and unpleasant. John Merrivale felt his stomach flip over with nerves. He tried to make small talk with his companion. "Of course, legally we can't force the Swiss to cooperate with us. But I know the g-guys at the Banque de Geneve pretty well. I may be able to p-persuade them to stretch a point."

Silence. It was like talking to a corpse.

Gavin Williams closed his eyes. "Persuade them?" "Stretch a point?" They're criminals who laundered Brookstein's dirty money. They should be stretched on a rack till their limbs are wrenched out of their sockets and their screams can be heard from the Statue of Liberty.

"Have you spent m-much time in Geneva, Gavin?"

"No."

"It's a beautiful city. The m-m-mountains, the lake. Lenny and I used to love coming here."

Gavin Williams pulled on his sleep mask. "Good night."

The plane rattled on.

JOHN MERRIVALE WAS BOOKED INTO LES Amures, an exclusive five-star hotel in Geneva's old town. In the old days, he and Lenny had enjoyed many fine meals in Les Amures's famous restaurant, which had been built in the thirteenth century and decorated with exquisite frescos, painted façades and art treasures. Lenny used to say it was like eating in the Sistine Chapel.

Gavin Williams refused to join him, preferring the more modest Hotel Eden. It was right on the lake, but Gavin purposely chose a room with no view that was closer to the gym and business center. "We're not here to enjoy ourselves," he told John tersely.

Heaven forbid.

John thought again how much Lenny would have despised Gavin Williams. His joylessness. His anger. Wandering alone around Geneva's chilly, medieval streets after dinner, he thought how much more fun the trip would have been had Lenny been with him.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN I'M NOT COMING?"

Gavin Williams looked fit to be tied. He and John were breakfasting together at Gavin's hotel, prior to the meeting with the people from the Banque de Geneve.

"I have a r-relationship with the bankers. They're more likely to trust me if I g-go alone."

"Trust you?" Gavin Williams balled up his napkin in his fist.

"Yes. Banking, especially in Switzerland, is all about t-trust."

Gavin Williams thought furiously, You were the right-hand man to the biggest thief of all time, and you have the nerve to pontificate about trust? Even now, even after Quorum's disgrace, it's still an old boys' club, isn't it? You're still one of them - a banker - and I'm not. Out loud he snapped, "Don't patronize me, John. I've written textbooks on Swiss banking."

"Marvelous. Then you know what I'm talking about."

"These people you claim to have a relationship with are money launderers. They are scum and their trust is worth nothing. I will attend the meeting, whether they like it or not."

John Merrivale could not resist a fleeting, triumphant smile. "I'm afraid you won't, Gavin. You see, I already cleared it with Harry Bain. I'm g-going alone. You're to follow up on any information I get out of them. Take it up with Harry if you're not happy."

"How can I take it up with Harry?" Gavin spluttered. "It's three in the morning in New York."

"Is it?" John smiled again. "What a pity."

THREE DAYS LATER THEY FLEW BACK to the States.

John Merrivale reported to Harry Bain: whatever money Lenny had stashed in Geneva was long gone. Some of it was paid out to investors in returns. The rest was siphoned into property deals in South America. Gavin Williams would fly to Bogota tomorrow to see what he could uncover.

Harry Bain put his head in his hands. Bogota. And so it goes on.

"I'm s-sorry about Geneva, sir. I really thought that might be a breakthrough."

Harry Bain hated the way John Merrivale insisted on calling him "sir." Nobody else did. He'd told Merrivale to cut it out months ago, but it was like a verbal tic with the guy. Subservience was second nature to him. Not for the first time, Harry wondered what on earth had attracted a type A man's man like Lenny Brookstein to this weak, milquetoast number cruncher. It didn't make any sense.

"It's okay, John. You did your best. The bureau appreciates your efforts."

"Th-thank you, sir. I'll keep trying."

Yeah. We're all trying. But there are no prizes for effort. Not in this life.

"John, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

John looked momentarily taken aback.

"Does it ever get to you?"

"Does what ever get to me?"

"You must have lost millions because of Lenny Brookstein, right? Tens of millions."

John Merrivale nodded.

"You see your entire life's work destroyed, your good name dragged through the mud. Doesn't it, I don't know...test your faith in humanity?"

John Merrivale smiled. "I'm afraid I've never had much f-faith in humanity."

"Okay, then. In friendship."

In a flash, the smile was gone.

"Let me tell you something about friendship, Mr. Bain. Friendship is everything. Everything. It's the only thing that really m-m-matters in this world. People can say what they like about me. But I'll tell you this. I'm a loyal friend."

He turned and walked away. Harry Bain watched him go.

He felt uneasy, but he had no idea why.

IN A HOTEL BATHROOM in BOGOTa, Gavin Williams stood under a cold shower, scrubbing his body with soap. It was so hard to stay clean in this filthy world. Colombia was the greatest cesspool of all. Every aspect of life here was diseased, tainted by greed, infected with corruption. It made Gavin sick.

As he scrubbed away, cleansing his soiled body, Gavin's thoughts turned to John Merrivale. John had humiliated him in Switzerland. No doubt he thought he'd had the last laugh. But Gavin Williams knew better.

John Merrivale had patronized the wrong man.

He would live to regret it.