The Fixer

55

Instead of taking his place in one of the two reserved seats in the front of the room next to Wendy, Rick immediately circled around to the back of the room, limping quickly, painfully. Pappas saw him approach and remained standing in place. He was wearing a black suit with a crisp white shirt and a silver tie.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Pappas said.

You goddamned son of a bitch, Rick thought. What the hell are you doing here? Is this your victory lap?

“Thank you for coming,” Rick said.

The man had apparently arranged for the payment of eighteen years’ worth of nursing home expenses. Yet was he responsible for the very injury that made that care necessary? Rick couldn’t prove it.

Alex Pappas had known Lenny for decades, and Rick hadn’t exactly been a great son. He had no right to throw the man out of the funeral home, no matter how much he wanted to. He had no right to chew the man out. Not yet, at least. His anger at seeing Pappas was built almost entirely on supposition.

“I’m here to pay my respects to a fellow member of the brotherhood,” said Pappas. His eyes, magnified by his heavy horn-rimmed glasses, gazed steadily at Rick’s.

“What, a fellow fixer?” Rick said contemptuously.

“You say that like you’ve just tasted shit,” Pappas replied. “Well, let me tell you something: Nothing would happen in this world without men like your father. Because our world is too damn broken. Things fall apart, Rick. That’s the way of the world. I don’t care if it’s the White House or the Kremlin or the Vatican or the goddamned Élysée Palace; nothing in this world happens without the guy behind the guy, the guy with the Rolodex, the guy who knows the secret password, the guy who gets the job done after the handshakes are over. Because the machinery’s always breaking down and the gears need to be oiled and nothing moves without the guy in the engine room.”

“And that’s you,” Rick said dubiously.

“What do you think Saint Paul was if not a goddamned fixer? He makes a few timely introductions to the Roman emperor Constantine, and next thing you know, a small-time first-century cult is a global religion. The only reason this goddamned broken world spins on its crooked axis is because fixers get up every morning and do what they do. And now let’s see if we can’t fix this situation of yours.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t need any more fixing from you.”

“Hear me out first, Rick. I’d like to make you an offer.”

“An offer.” He could smell Pappas’s peppery cologne.

“Yes. When we can speak in private, I have an offer that I think will interest you.”

“We can speak right now.”

“All right. I’ll keep this brief. What happened to you”-he indicated with a spread hand-“should never have happened.”

Rick couldn’t restrain himself from saying, “Your thugs did a pretty good job on me. But you made the mistake of leaving me alive. And I don’t give up.”

“I’m sorry you think I had something to do with what happened to you. I did not. But I can guarantee this sort of thing will never happen again. I will see to it.”

“That right?” Rick gave a chilly smile. He could hear the muted buzz of Pappas’s BlackBerry.

“Absolutely. You may have heard all sorts of things about me, but one thing you’ll never hear is that I break my word. My word is my bond. You have my personal guarantee that you will be left alone.”

Rick knew there had to be a condition. He was convinced of it. “If what?”

“All I ask is that you step back.”

“Step… back?”

“Your father left you a rather nice inheritance. Keep it. It’s yours. Just halt your crusade, and I can assure you no further harm will come to you.” He paused. “Are we clear?”

Rick glanced at him, then away. He didn’t know how to reply.

“This is what your father would have wanted, Rick. He left you money so you and your sister could live comfortably. Not so that you would get hurt. This is why I’m making you this offer, and let us be clear, it’s a one-time offer. In honor of your father. You’ve gotten what you wanted. You’ve won. Now, let’s move on. Walk the path of peace, and others will, too.”

Pappas stuck out his hand. “Do we have a deal?”

Rick thought: Pappas is offering to buy me off, and why the hell not?

His father was dead. There was no point to continuing. The battle was over.

It was, truth to tell, a relief.

“You know what the right thing is,” Pappas said. “Just live your life.”

After a few seconds, Rick nodded, then shook his hand. “Deal,” he said.