A Safe House

31

Stone called Lance. “Scrambled.”

“Me, too,” Lance said. “What’s up?”

“We’ve got problems with Jenna.”

“So, solve them.”

“Not so easily done. And they have to be solved now, or they’ll cause a whole new set of problems.”

“All right,” Lance said wearily. “Tell me about it.”

“At the moment, Jenna is Jamie, because you and I and she say she is. No other reason.”

“Why is that a problem?”

“Jenna is a wealthy woman, but she can’t write a check, can’t use a credit card, can’t speak to her investment advisers, none of that.”

“I see your point,” Lance said. “So, how do we fix that?”

“We would have to make the change from Jenna to Jamie permanent.”

“But?”

“That would cause, I think, even more problems. If we take the usual steps for declaring somebody dead, we need official documents, like a death certificate, and putting a false name on one of those is a criminal act. In fact, in the future, almost any action she might take of a financial or documentary nature would be criminal.”

“So, what do we do?”

“That was my next question to you. I’m hoping you’ll have some rational and legal suggestions.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I don’t know what the fuck we’re going to do. Now, do you want to take a stab at this?”

Lance emitted a long and deep sigh. “No, I don’t.”

“I can think of one thing that might work, but it has dangers.”

“Please, please tell me.”

“Jenna goes back to being Jenna. We announce Jamie is dead. Jenna is Jenna. Then she can do all the things a person needs to do, legally and morally.”

“That is nearly an ideal solution,” Lance said.

“Yes, nearly.”

“You mean except for the part about Slade trying to kill her?”

“That’s it, you’ve got it!”

“And you think that’s still a problem?”

“Only moments ago, one Harley Quince turned up at my office to say that Wallace Slade wants me to be his attorney.”

“How did you react to that?”

“Unsatisfactorily, from Slade’s point of view. Joan ushered Quince out with his hat in his hand and a .45 pressed to his spine.”

“What do you suppose Slade had in mind?”

“Access to Jenna’s estate, which has a net worth of more than sixty million dollars. The divorce court gave Slade nearly nada.”

“So, we can’t allow that to happen.”

“If it should happen, I would be representing Jenna.”

“Can Slade be bought off?”

“With whose money? I wouldn’t allow my client to give him a dime, and I can’t imagine you doing it with government funds.”

“Of course not.”

“She’s no longer a congressional witness,” Stone pointed out.

“No, she’s not.”

“So, I don’t see how you could justify the student population of the Farm sitting around, waiting for something terrible to happen. We’ve already tried that plan, with the death of her sister as the result.”

“Do not ever speak those words to another human being or recording device,” Lance said firmly.

“We need a long-range plan.”

“We could kill Wallace Slade,” Lance said tentatively.

“And Harley Quince and whoever else cheerfully does Slade’s bidding? Come on, Lance. You should never speak those words again, not even in American Sign Language. Somebody might see you.”

“Has Jenna expressed to you anything regarding her future?”

“She says she’d like to spend the winter in a warm place.”

“Did you offer her Key West?”

“That came up.”

“Did you agree to it?”

“Sort of.”

“Then that’s our next step, isn’t it?”

“In Key West she could never leave the house or speak to anyone.”

“I can live with that,” Lance said.

“Perhaps, but Jenna couldn’t. She’s... social creature, and she needs... entertainment, from time to time.”

“You mean daily?”

“Perhaps a bit more frequently.”

“So, if we lock her in the house and you fuck her twice a day, we’d be fine?”

“Can we take a step back toward reality, please?” Stone asked.

“Is reality an available option?”

“Well, Jenna can afford, say, a four-man or — woman detail from Strategic Services.”

“Can you house them in Key West?”

“Just barely. That’s not a permanent solution.”

“We need that.”

“Tell me, Lance, does the Agency have a safe house in a favorable climate? I mean, in this country?”

“I would have to research that.”

“Then, Lance, pick up the phone and tell somebody to research it. I don’t expect you to pore through the real estate listings in the Sunday Times. And West Africa won’t do.”

Lance sighed again. “I’ll get back to you.”

“Pleeeeease do.”

Stone hung up, nearly panting with the effort of the call.