Now and Then

40.

Iwas in epstein’s office. I had brought a bag of donuts and he supplied some really awful coffee.

“You make the coffee?” I said.

“Shauna,” he said. “My assistant.”

“I hope she’s good at other things,” I said.

“Nearly everything else,” Epstein said. “These donuts kosher?”

“No,” I said.

Epstein nodded and took a bite.

“We looked into everywhere that Alderson was supposed to have worked his magic,” he said after he’d swallowed. “Nobody ever heard of him. No record of him at Kent State. No record of any affiliation with the Weathermen, or the SDS, Peter, Paul and Mary. Nobody. Nothing.”

“Maybe he’s not a hero of the revolution,” I said.

“If he’s really forty-eight,” Epstein said, “the revolution was over by the time he was old enough to be heroic.”

“Maybe he lied about his age,” I said.

“Why would he do that if he’s claiming to be a major fi gure in things that were mostly over by, what, 1975?”

“We were out of Vietnam by then,” I said.

“So if he’s going to insist he’s a hero of the era, why not claim the right age?”

“Vanity, maybe,” I said.

“He wants us to think he’s young?”

“Women,” I said. “He likes women, and he may be so used to lying about his age to women that he does it instinctively.”

“So,” Epstein said. “He’s either lying about his age or about his history.”

“Or both,” I said.

“And it appears that he has also killed two people, one of them an FBI agent,” Epstein said.

“And he’s working very hard to get that audiotape.”

“Which isn’t all that incriminating,” Epstein said. “I don’t think what’s on that tape could even get us an arrest warrant.”

“But it would cause you to investigate him,” I said.

“It has,” Epstein said. “And we got nothing.”

“Except that he’s not what he says he is,” I said. “Or maybe who he says he is.”

“Is that worth the risk of killing an FBI agent?” Epstein said.

“Apparently.”

Epstein nodded. We were quiet for a time.

“There’s something else,” Epstein said.

“There’s a lot else,” I said.

Epstein finished a donut and drank a little coffee and made a face.

“You’re right about the coffee,” he said. “I’m going to have to do something about it.”

“It’s nice to have a manageable problem,” I said.

“Yeah,” Epstein said, “gives me the illusion of competence.”

“So, where does a guy like Alderson get a hit man like the one who killed Jordan Richmond?” I said.

“Red?”

I shook my head.

“Red’s a lummox,” I said. “He’s big and strong and idolworships Alderson, or what he thinks Alderson is, but he’s not a guy to arrange some murders.”

“So who?”

“And why?”

We each took a second donut.

“We don’t know,” I said.

“Good point,” Epstein said. “Why don’t you work that out, and I’ll deal with the coffee issue.”