‘You and Rafe killed Molly.’
The words hit like a physical blow and Frank recoiled, taking a shaky step backwards as the memories of that night rose in his mind.
He brandished the .45 at Swift, trying to ward off the accusation, feeling the pistol grip become sweaty against his palm despite the cool evening air.
‘What the hell do you mean by that?’ he cried. ‘Molly shot me. She was a traitor, working for the damn Russians.’
Swift gave him a bitter smile.
‘Sure of that, are you?’ he said, then turned back towards the stillness of the lake. ‘You found what you expected to find. What I sent you to find.’
Numb, Frank stood there in the darkness, listening to the gentle lapping of the water below them. The sound recalled that day in Neuchâtel, standing by the lake shore with Molly smiling up at him…
‘What she was actually doing… well, she could have compromised everything, and I couldn’t allow that.’ Swift took a deep breath. ‘People think wars are won by bravery, but they’re not. Wars are won by sacrifice.’
Frank swallowed. The gun seemed cold and heavy in his hand, and he slowly let his arm fall to his side.
He saw Molly’s arm fall to her side, the gun slipping from her fingers to clatter on the floor outside Rafe’s apartment…
‘No!’ With his free hand, he rubbed his eyes, trying to drive away the visions. ‘This is all… wrong.’
Swift shivered and pulled the robe tighter about himself.
‘You think we’re to blame because we intervened, because we did something… but there were no innocent options. Because doing nothing is also a choice, and in this case, it would have been the coward's choice.’ He bowed his head and sighed. ‘Sometimes there are no solutions, only actions and consequences.’
They stood in silence for a time.
Eventually, Frank looked up.
‘So that’s all this was,’ he murmured. ‘A cover-up. To keep people from knowing about what happened in Bern, about how we came to bomb Russia.’
Swift stared out across the lake and nodded.
Frank shook his head.
‘Pete Barnes, Edward Linden, the people who burned in that apartment building… they’re all dead because you wanted to silence me.’
‘I’m sorry, Frank.’ Swift glanced over his shoulder with a sad smile. ‘It really should have been you.’
His expression suddenly changed and he looked past Frank, his eyes widening.
The gunshot cracked the stillness of the evening, echoing out across the lake, and Swift stumbled back with a cry, frantically clutching at his leg.
Frank whirled around to see Faye walking out of the gloom behind him. Her face was twisted with anger and she had Ellis’ gun.
‘Faye!’ he gasped. ‘What are you doing?’
She turned and leveled the gun at him now, her eyes gleaming in the darkness. Startled, Frank raised his hands.
‘Back away,’ she hissed. ‘This time I have got bullets.’
Frank gaped as she aimed past him, flinching as she pulled the trigger again and a sudden flash lit her face. Out of the deafening gunshot, he heard an awful scream and turned to see Swift falling, blood spilling from his leg and a second wound in his pelvis. Robe flapping open, the broad man tumbled to a bloody heap in the grass, braying like a dying animal.
‘Oh, dear God,’ Frank stared in revulsion. ‘Faye, stop!’
Her eyes, glaring with rage, flickered over to him.
‘My brother,’ she snarled. ‘My brother burned because of him!’
Frank held up a hand, imploring her.
‘I know but…’
She looked away, raising the gun again.
He saw Rafe raising the gun to point at Molly… saw his own hand raising the wrench above Ellis’ head…
‘No!’ He stepped in front of her. ‘You don’t want to do this!’
‘Yes I do!’ she hissed.
‘No, you don’t!’ He looked at her and saw the hatred burning in her eyes, saw what he himself had become. ‘You never killed anyone.’
‘Get out of my way,’ Faye shrieked.
‘Please don’t do this.’ He could still taste the bile in his mouth.
The gun was shaking in her hand, tears streaming down her face.
‘You can’t stop me, Frank,’ she whispered.
He stared into her eyes. Behind him, Swift was screaming and swearing, an incoherent babble of English and German.
‘You’re right,’ he told her.
There were no solutions, only actions and consequences.
Twisting round, he leveled his .45 at Swift’s forehead, and squeezed the trigger.
The screaming stopped and echoes from the gunshot rolled out across the surface of the lake.
When he looked back to her, Faye was trembling. She dropped Ellis’ gun on the grass and stood there, a small figure in the darkness.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Frank sighed.
Faye stared down at the body for a long time, then looked up at him.
‘Why did you do it?’ she asked.
Frank bowed his head.
‘Because doing nothing would have been the coward’s choice.’
47
They made their way slowly back up the slope towards the light of the house, the grass soft and springy beneath their feet.
‘You said you knew him from the war…’ Faye said, leaving the question open.
‘That’s right.’ Frank hesitated. ‘At least, I thought I knew him.’
Faye glanced over at him.
‘So he was a German?’ she asked.
Frank shook his head.
‘No.’ He paused then glanced back over his shoulder, down towards the darkness of the lake. ‘Actually, I don’t know. Maybe.’
A faint wind began to stir among the trees as they climbed the wooden steps to the balcony. Reaching the top, Frank peered in through the glass, then frowned.
‘Where’s the girl?’ he asked.
Faye walked over to the door and pulled it open.
‘I gave her that bastard’s wallet and the keys to his car.’ She looked over at Frank, as though daring him to complain. ‘She was just a kid, for pity’s sake. You saw what he was doing to her, what men like that always do…’
She broke off, biting her lip, composing herself.
Frank walked over to stand beside her.
‘You okay?’ he asked, quietly.
Faye shut her eyes for a moment, then nodded.
‘I just figured she deserved a second chance,’ she explained.
Frank looked at her thoughtfully, then sighed.
‘Yeah.’
He followed her inside and pulled the door closed behind them. When he looked round, Faye was standing in the middle of the floor, staring across the room towards the couch. She gave a little shiver, then turned to him.
‘What about you?’ she asked suddenly. ‘What will you do now?’
He stared at her for a moment, realizing that he hadn’t ever thought this far ahead. When he’d set out, everything had been about revenge; now, it was about responsibility.
‘I honestly don’t know,’ he said, shrugging. ‘I did what I set out to do… what I had to do.’
Faye tilted her head to one side.
‘You said you made a promise,’ she said, looking at him intently. ‘Who to?’
Frank turned away from her and paced slowly across the room, halting by the double doors.
‘Beth,’ he said wearily. ‘Pete Barnes’ wife.’
‘Oh.’ Faye was silent for a moment, then she walked slowly over to him. Frank opened the doors for her.
‘You can go back and tell her you got the man that killed her husband,’ she said, softly. ‘She’ll want to hear that.’
Frank followed her out of the room.
‘Not from me she won’t.’
Faye paused, frowning.
‘Why?’ she asked. ‘It isn’t your fault that Ellis killed the wron
g cop.’
Frank lowered his eyes and nodded.
‘Yeah. It is.’
He pulled the doors shut behind them, then started slowly down the corridor.
‘I sent Pete down there, to Neosho. Instead of going myself.’
Faye stared up at him.
‘Does she know that?’
Frank nodded grimly.
‘She does, yeah.’
They came to the entrance hall at the end of the corridor. Faye slowed, her expression sympathetic.
‘You think she blames you for what happened?’
Frank halted, then turned and met her gaze.
‘She was in bed with me when it happened,’ he said miserably. ‘So yeah, I think she blames me. And I think she’s right.’
Pete Barnes, Edward Linden, Faye’s brother… even Molly, according to Swift… How many people were dead because of him?
He felt a tentative touch on his arm as she patted him awkwardly with her hand.
‘You can’t take it all on yourself,’ she told him. ‘No one’s completely guilty because no one’s completely innocent.’ She blushed. ‘Your friend certainly wasn’t… and neither was his wife, if she let you take her to bed.’
Frank looked round at her and gave her a sad smile.
‘But it should have been me,’ he said simply.
‘Ellis would have killed you if you’d gone to Neosho.’
Frank shrugged, then nodded.
The road not taken…
‘He’d have killed us both, wouldn’t he?’ she continued, moving around so that she could stare up into his eyes.
‘I guess,’ he muttered.
‘But we’re alive,’ she told him. ‘And I won’t feel guilty about surviving.’
They stepped out onto the gravel parking area. Faye gazed up at the evening sky, deep blue above the silhouettes of the trees, her eyes wide as she turned around to stare at the stars.
‘Where will you go now?’ he asked her.
She turned and looked at him.
‘Kansas City.’ She shrugged, then her expression clouded. ‘Back to that church hall, I guess.’
Frank gazed over at her, then reached inside his jacket and drew out the envelope of money they’d taken from Ellis.
‘You wanted to travel, right?’ he said, holding up the envelope, then tossing it to her.
Startled, she caught it, then looked up at him with a strange expression.
‘Yes.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘But… how did you know that?’
He thought back to that tiny room in Neosho, with the pictures of exotic places cut out from magazines and pinned up around her bed.
A bed surrounded by dreams.
‘So travel,’ he said.
Fall, 1953
Joplin, Missouri
48
Frank dropped down from the fence and straightened up, brushing his hands off. Lifting his head, he stood for a moment gazing towards the back of the house. The place looked better since he’d been gone. Someone had watered the grass and mown it. The tattered old lawn chairs were gone, and even the birdhouse pole had been straightened.
Kaitlyn, he supposed, or Beth’s aunt, keeping everyone busy.
Lowering his eyes, he made his way slowly across the yard and climbed the steps that led up onto the porch. From habit, he reached out for the door handle, then stopped himself. After a moment’s hesitation, he knocked on the door instead, then turned away to stare out across the yard. Beyond the railroad tracks, the leaves were falling from the dogwood trees, burning red in the afternoon sunlight.
He heard the approach of soft footsteps behind him and turned around, removing his hat. Beth opened the screen door partway and stood there peering out at him. She was wearing a simple floral print dress and her hair was tied back in a ponytail. He couldn’t read her expression but she seemed tired somehow, with a resignation deep in her eyes that never used to be there.
‘Hello, Beth,’ he said.
‘Frank.’
She opened the door a little wider, stepping out onto the porch, then pushed it closed behind her and leaned her back against it like she didn’t want it to open.
Frank’s eyes flickered up to the house.
‘Someone else here?’ he asked quietly.
Arms folded, Beth stared at him for a moment, then gave the slightest shake of her head.
‘No.’
Frank nodded slowly, turning the brim of his hat between his fingers.
‘Your sister… she went back to St Louis?’
‘Kaitlyn stayed long enough,’ Beth replied with a shrug. ‘Now, it’s just me.’
Frank looked at her, the way she held her chin up, the way her eyes followed him. For the first time in a long time, he had no idea what she was thinking.
‘Are you managing okay?’ he asked.
Beth shifted slightly, letting her arms drop to her sides, turning her head away.
‘Everyone’s been real kind,’ she said. ‘The department gave me some money, and Pete’s brother says he’s gonna get me a job at the newspaper.’
Frank considered this.
‘The paper, huh?’
‘That’s right.’ There was a note of defiance in her voice, as though she expected some smart-mouth response.
Too much history between them, and not enough of it good… that was the problem.
He sighed to himself.
‘Well, if there’s anything you need…’
She stared at him for a time, appearing to relax a little, but saying nothing. He stood there, feeling increasingly awkward.
‘I’ve been away,’ he told her. ‘Kansas City.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yeah,’ he said, pausing. ‘I found the guy.’
Beth stiffened and looked at him.
‘Did you arrest him?’ she asked, her voice tight.
Frank turned away and looked along the porch.
‘No,’ he said quietly.
‘What did you do to him?’
For a moment, he could taste the bile again, see the bloody wrench in his hand, the twitching limbs on the forest floor…
‘You don’t wanna know,’ he told her, shaking his head.
‘Well, I guess it doesn’t matter,’ she said. ‘So long as he’s dead.’
‘He’s dead all right.’
They stood in silence for a time. When he finally turned to look at her, Beth was toying with a loose strand of hair.
‘So… you’re back now?’ she asked.
Frank leaned on the porch rail.
‘For now, yeah.’
Beth studied him for a moment, then tilted her head to one side.
‘You don’t sound too sure,’ she said.
Frank shrugged. He was a lot less sure of things than he used to be.
Beth lowered her eyes.
‘You wanna come in?’ she asked.
Frank looked at her. She was as beautiful as ever, leaning back against the door frame, her dress pulled tight across her breasts.
‘Yeah,’ he said.
She met his gaze, opening her mouth as though to speak, when he interrupted her.
‘But I’m not going to.’
She frowned at him, unsure what he meant.
‘Why not?’
Frank took a deep breath, then moved to stand close to her.
‘You’ve said it often enough,’ he sighed. ‘I’m a bastard.’
He leaned in and kissed her softly on the forehead.
‘I reckon you deserve better than that.’
Beth stared at him as he lightly touched her cheek, then turned and walked slowly down the steps.
‘Frank?’
He looked around to see her standing there, an unfamiliar sparkle in her eyes.
‘Thank you,’ she said.
Frank nodded, then turned and walked away.
Epilogue
Frank stood by the corner of the long Reflecting Pool and stared up at the white columned façade of the Lincoln Memorial, pale against
the slate grey sky. Shivering, he pulled his coat tighter around himself, trying to keep out the wind that squalled up from the river. The cabbie had assured him that the weather was unseasonably mild for Washington, but he’d been waiting here for fifteen minutes and the cold was really starting to bite.
He turned and looked down the edge of the pool, studying the different figures that dotted the path, searching for a familiar face. Men in overcoats and hats, women bundled up in scarves, everyone walking briskly to keep themselves warm. Frowning, he slid his hand from the shelter of his jacket pocket, tugging back the sleeve to check the time once more.
He should have been here by now.
Stamping his feet to get some feeling into them, Frank turned back towards the Memorial building. A man was walking down the steps towards him, wearing a long black coat and a grey homburg hat. Frank saw the light reflect off his glasses and, as he drew closer, he raised a gloved hand in greeting.
‘Mr Rye!’ Dulles looked grayer than he had during the war, his hair now a uniform silver, but he appeared otherwise unchanged.
‘Good afternoon, sir.’ Frank walked over to meet him and they briefly shook hands.
Dulles smiled then stood back as though appraising him.
‘Truth be told, I wasn’t sure you’d come,’ he said, lifting his head to squint through his glasses.
‘Well, I wasn’t sure I should,’ Frank replied. ‘Certain people seemed to think it might be better if I was dead.’
‘And you thought I might be one of them?’ Dulles asked with interest.
Frank hesitated, but there was no polite way of answering.
‘The thought had crossed my mind,’ he admitted.
Dulles grinned and clapped him on the back.
‘You think I’d be standing out here in the cold if I wanted you killed?’ he chuckled.
Frank looked at him uncomfortably, then managed a wary smile.
Dulles shook his head.
‘I certainly wouldn’t be mean-spirited enough to drag a man halfway across the country for that.’ He beamed, then turned and gestured towards the path that led around the edge of the water. ‘Let’s walk, shall we? This town’s colder than Bern. Stand still too long and you’ll catch your death.’
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