The Inner Circle

74

Leading us past the nurses’ station, past the TV alcove, past the section of small square tables covered by checkers sets, Nico keeps his chin up as he purposefully strides to what is clearly our destination: the only round table in the entire day room-and the only one with a green laminated card with the words Don’t Sit on it.

“I made the card. So people don’t sit here,” Nico says.

“We appreciate that,” I say, noticing that Clementine still hasn’t said a word. It hasn’t gotten any easier for her to be here. But the way Nico is staring more at me instead of her, I realize he still doesn’t know she’s his daughter. No question, that’s better for all of us.

We all sit down. There are three of us at the table-and four seats. But as Nico’s attention turns to the empty one, I have no doubt that, in his head, that empty seat is filled.

“It’ll be quiet back here. That’s why I like the round table,” Nico says. Like every other table in the room, it’s got a Plexiglas top. Makes it easier for the nurses to see what we’re doing. Back by the nurses’ station, the escort who walked us in is sitting at a computer, pretending not to stare at us. Pointing across the room to a set of swinging doors, Nico adds, “My room’s back there.”

There’s a loud kuh-kunk. I follow the sound over my shoulder, where a soda machine-kuh-kunk-spits out a Diet Dr Pepper that’s retrieved by a male patient with curly black hair.

“I can get us apple and orange juice for free. They make us pay for soda,” Nico explains.

“I think we’re okay,” I say, hoping to move us along.

“You talk to me like the doctors,” Nico says, placing both his hands flat on the see-through table. His feet are pressed perfectly together on the floor. “Like the newer doctors who are worried I might hurt them.”

“Nico, I wasn’t-”

“I know you’re not her assistant. I know you said that just to get in here.” There’s a kuh-kunk behind us-another Diet Dr Pepper to another patient. “The Secret Service can arrest you for that, Benedict.”

He’s trying to take control, especially with the hokey move of calling me Benedict Arnold. But unlike last time, I’ve done my homework. Especially about him.

When Nico was first arrested for shooting the President, he was charged with a federal crime, which means he had federal records-including a psych profile-which means those records eventually came to the Archives, which also means it took nothing but a phone call to get them from our record center out in Suitland, Maryland.

To be honest, most of what I read was typical Psych 101 nonsense, but one thing did stand out: Yes, Nico’s hyper-paranoid, and used to claim God talks to him… and yes, he’s clearly well versed in all sorts of historical conspiracy theories, including delusional concerns about Thomas Jefferson and George Washington and a hidden pentagram in the street layout of Washington, D.C. But as a former decorated soldier in the army, the one thing Nico has always responded to best is a sure voice of authority.

“Nico, I’m here to talk about the Culper Ring,” I announce. “Would you like an update or not?”

His hands stay flat on the table. His eyes flick back and forth, picking me apart. Then Clementine. Then the empty chair next to him. The profile said how methodical he was. But the way he starts biting the inside of his lip, he’s also excited.

“I was right, wasn’t I?” he blurts. “About the invisible ink…”

“You were. Messages were being sent.”

“I knew! I-” He lowers his voice, glancing over at the nurses’ station. The escort who brought us in is on the phone. Nico definitely hears what she’s saying. And he’s been here long enough to know what happens if he gets too excited. “I told you you were being tested,” he insists, fighting to keep his composure. “I told you, didn’t I?”

“We’re all being tested,” Clementine says, just like we practiced. “That’s what life is.”

“And here’s your newest test,” I jump in, already feeling guilty, but knowing that this is our only chance. “This is the message that came back.”

From my front pants pocket, I pull out the pencil that was left behind by President Wallace and gently place it on the open table.