End Game

CHAPTER THIRTY

Jonathan pulled another beer out of the fridge for Father Dom and poured himself another two fingers of Lagavulin. June had arrived, and the Washington Nationals were about to mix it up with the Baltimore Orioles. Neither team sucked yet — though there was plenty of time left in the season for that — so Jonathan’s team loyalty was still up for grabs. The Orioles had been the de facto Washington home team for so many years that he couldn’t turn his back on them quite yet. The Nats could make it a lot easier, though, if they could figure out a way to stitch a whole season together. “May they not humiliate themselves,” he said as he delivered the drink.

“To coping with reduced expectations,” Dom toasted. “I can’t help but notice that you haven’t yet turned on the television. That usually means you’ve got something on your mind.”

Jonathan sipped the liquid smoke that was Lagavulin scotch. “A couple of things, actually. First, how is Graham Mitchell adjusting?”

“You mean Vincent Malone?”

Jonathan made a face. Under the circumstances, the new name was a lifesaver. Literally. “Yes,” he said. “How’s Vincent Malone?”

“Physically or mentally?”

“Yes.”

Dom scowled as he considered his answer. “Physically, I think he’s fine. He’s out of the cast, and the restrictions have been lifted from his physical activities. He’s cleared to perform to the limits of his capabilities. ” He did finger quotes with his free hand.

“Why the emphasis?”

“That’s the segue to his psychology,” Dom said. “He’s by no means stretching his capabilities. He’s been through a lot, and as much as I and Mama Alexander and the rest of the staff try to be supportive, we’ll never get his parents back for him. Every time he looks at that scar on his elbow, he’s going to be reminded of some pretty awful stuff. Think about it. He doesn’t even live under the same name anymore.”

Jonathan inhaled deeply to prepare for his next question. “Every kid in Resurrection House is damaged goods. How is… Vincent on that scale?”

Dom’s scowl deepened. “Well, I’m not sure how much I like the characterization of the kids in Rez House being damaged—”

“You know what I mean.”

“—but I know what you mean. And I don’t know how to answer you. There’s no paradigmatic Rez House resident. Do they all come with baggage? Hell yes, their parents are criminals. Are some more damaged than others? Of course. But I have no way of comparing Vincent’s damage against that of another student. Do I think that Vincent will come out of this experience as a functional adult? Yes, I do. But some damage will be permanent.”

Jonathan took his time considering the answer. He supposed that would be okay. Jonathan felt a personal responsibility for Graham that he didn’t feel for many others in Rez House.

“You said there were a couple of things bothering you,” Dom said. Once he fell into psychologist mode, he could be tenacious. Especially so when Jonathan was his patient.

“Yeah,” Jonathan said. “And they’re related. How much do you know about this Maryanne Rhoades chick?”

“The FBI agent?”

“Right.”

“The one you threw out of her own truck?”

Jonathan smiled. “That’s the one. I had a chat with Wolverine today. It was about Maryanne. In fact, it was about that entire mess that landed Graham here in the first place.”

“What did she say?”

“After a lot of ducking and dodging and denials, Maryanne confessed that she, Maryanne, was the information vector for the Russians. She was the one directing the Russians on how to kill him.”

Dom recoiled as he test-drove the thought. “Why would she do that?”

“Apparently, she had a gambling problem,” Jonathan said. “And a big one, at that. To the tune of something like eighty grand. And she was upside down with the Russian mob.”

“Yikes.”

“Exactly. I don’t know all the ins and outs but the bottom line was, if she could deliver the codes and the code-keepers to the mob, they’d let her off the hook.”

Dom shook his head. “Good Lord. So, she sold out a kid?”

“No, not initially,” Jonathan said. “At first, the targets were his parents, via their rebel friends. Somehow, she talked herself into believing that it would be bad guy versus bad guy. No harm, no foul. But when things went wrong, and Graham’s mom passed along the code to him, he became the target.”

“You mean Vincent’s mom.”

“Goddammit. Yes, right. Vincent’s mom. I mean, think about that — she knows he’s got this photographic memory, and she gives him this death sentence on purpose. While his dad was working with the FBI, his mom never had any intention of doing so.”

“So, either way, he was doomed.”

“Right. So Maryanne hired Security Solutions because she genuinely felt for the kid. She launched a footrace between the Russians and me to see who would get there first. That’s a lot of gaming with people’s lives.”

Dom took another pull of beer and leaned in closer. “I’m sensing something out of you that I don’t often see,” he said. “You’ve seen the world as a dark place for a long time, yet this incident seems to have surprised you.”

Jonathan waved that off. “No,” he said. “Not surprised. Disgusted.”

“So, why share this with me?”

“You’re a priest and a shrink.”

“Which I’ve been for a long time, and we don’t often have conversations like this.”

Jonathan sipped the Lagavulin. “I thought you should know,” he said. “You make the call whether or not to share the details with Gr — Vincent. I thought you should know.”

Dom nodded. “Okay.”

Jonathan checked the clock and thumbed the remote.

As the picture arrived from the ether, Dom said, “Is it true what I hear about Boxers? He’s got a girlfriend now?”

Jonathan smirked and made a rocking motion with his hand. “I’m not sure the G-word is appropriate, but Jolaine certainly has the hots for him.”