She rushed back upstairs, frantically grabbing the telephone, her fingers trembling over the buttons. She called directory information, asking for a number. They found it and offered to put her through. Three rings, then four, then five. A recorded message: Were sorry, but all our offices are closed on Sunday. Our regular opening hours are Monday to FridayIf she waited till tomorrow it would be too late: they would have destroyed the boxes and everything they contained.
She went back into the kitchen to find Edward standing, defiant. She began quietly. You just threw them out.
Youre damn right I threw them out. They made this place look like a student shithole. All that junk, all that sentimental crap. You need to drop it, Maggie. You need to move on.
But, but Maggie wasnt looking at him. She was looking at the ground, trying to digest what had just happened. Not just the letters from her parents, the photographs from Ireland, but the notes she had taken during crucial negotiations, private, scribbled memos from rebel leaders and UN officials. Those boxes contained her lifes work. And now they were in a dumpster.
I did it for you, Maggie. That world is not your world any more. Its moved on without you. Youve got to do the same. You need to adjust to your life now, as it is. Our life.
So thats why he had been so keen to get her locked away in the consulting room this morning. And she thought he just wanted her to get a punctual start to the day. She had even thanked him! The truth was that he just wanted the garbage men in and out before she had a chance to stop them. For the first time, she met his gaze. Quietly, as if unable to believe her own words, she said, You want to destroy who I am.
He looked back at her blankly, before finally nodding towards the other end of the apartment. In a voice that was ice cold, he said, I think someones waiting for you.
She almost staggered out of the room, unable to absorb what had happened. How could he have done such a thing, without her permission, without even talking to her? Did he really hate the Maggie Costello he had once known so much that he wanted to erase every last trace of her, replacing her with someone, different, bland and subservient?
She stood in the landing that served as the waiting area, her head spinning. The man in blue was still there, now turning the pages of Atlantic Monthly.
Bad time? Im sorry.
No, no, Maggie said, barely out loud. On auto-pilot, she added. Is your wife coming?
He made a curious smirk. She should be along soon.
Maggie gestured him into the consulting room. You said it was some kind of emergency. She was struggling to remember his case, to remember if he was one of the handful of clients she said could contact her out of hours.
Yes. My problem is that Im finding it hard to adjust.
To what?
To life here. Normality.
Where were you before?
I was all over. Travelling from one screwed-up place to another. Always meant to be doing good, always trying to make the world a better place and all that bullshit.
Are you a doctor?
You could say that. I try to save lives.
Maggie could feel her muscles tensing. And now youre finding it hard to adjust to being back home.
Home! Thats a joke. I dont know what home is any more. Im not from DC; I havent lived in my hometown for nearly twenty years. Always on the road, on planes, in hotel rooms, sleeping in dumps.
But thats not why youre finding it hard to adjust.
No. Its the adrenaline I miss, I guess. The drama. Sounds terrible, doesnt it?
Go on. Maggie was remembering everything that was in those boxes. A handwritten letter of thanks she had received from the British prime minister, following the talks over Kosovo. A treasured photo with the man she had loved through her mid-twenties.
Before, everything I did seemed to matter so much. The stakes were high. Now nothing even comes close. Its all so banal.
Maggie stared hard at the man. The words were coming out of him but his eyes were flat and cold. She began to feel uneasy at his presence here. Can you say more about the work you were doing?
I started with an aid organization in Africa, working with people there during a particularly vicious civil war. Somehow-it was a fluke really-I ended up being one of the few people who could talk to both sides. The UN started using me as a go-between. And I got results.
Before, everything I did seemed to matter so much. The stakes were high. Now nothing even comes close. Its all so banal.
Maggie stared hard at the man. The words were coming out of him but his eyes were flat and cold. She began to feel uneasy at his presence here. Can you say more about the work you were doing?
I started with an aid organization in Africa, working with people there during a particularly vicious civil war. Somehow-it was a fluke really-I ended up being one of the few people who could talk to both sides. The UN started using me as a go-between. And I got results.
Maggie shivered. Her mind was racing, wondering whether she should call for Edward, though that was truly the last thing she wanted to do.
Eventually I became known as a sort of un-official diplomat, a professional mediator. The US government hired me for a peace process that had stalled. And one thing led to another. Eventually they were sending me around the world, to peace talks that had hit the buffers. They called me the Closer. I was the one who could close the deal.
Could she make a run for it? But something told her not even to glance at the door: she did not want to provoke this man. Then what happened? Her voice betrayed nothing: years of practice.
I was the best in my field. Sent everywhere. Belgrade, Baghdad. Back to Africa.
Maggie swallowed hard.
And then I made a mistake.
Where?
In Africa.
Maggies voice stayed low, even as she said, Who the hell are you?
I think you know who I am.
No, I dont. So tell me, who are you and what are you playing at? Tell me now or Ill call the police.
You know who I am, Maggie. You know very well. Im you.
CHAPTER THREE
W ASHINGTON , S UNDAY , 10.43 AM
It wasnt a surprise. She had known that much the moment he had mentioned Africa and the UN. He had been telling her own life story back to her, pretending it was his own. It was a nasty little trick.
Still, that wasnt why she had grown agitated: she was used to dealing with creeps. This man seemed to know everything about her. Including her-what had he called it?-mistake.
Im not here to taunt you.
But youre not here for bloody divorce mediation either, are you?
Theres no wife for me to divorce. Im like you used to be. Married to the job.
And what job is that exactly?
I work for the same people you used to work for. The United States government. My name is Judd Bonham. He extended a hand.
Maggie ignored it, heading slowly backwards towards her chair. She was reeling. First Edward and the boxes and now this. Initially, she had him down as some psycho stalker, a jilted husband who blamed her for his divorce. It wouldnt be too difficult to Google her whole life story, then trick his way in to scare her, to freak her out. But she had read him wrong. He was here on official business. But what on earth could it be? She hadnt done anything for the Agency or State Department sincethen. That had been well over a year ago and she had cut all her ties instantly. Not a phone call, not a letter. Nothing. If she had had it her way, she wouldnt even be living in bloody America. She couldnt have gone back to Ireland, couldnt face that; but she had thought about following Liz to London. Instead she had ended up in sodding Washington, inside the belly of the beast. To be with Edward.
Gotta hand it to you though. You havent lost your touch.
She looked up at him.
Youre still good. The old jet-on-the-runway trick. Engines revving up, ready to fly any moment. Love it.
What?
Your last appointment, Kathy and Brett. Threatening to walk out on the parties: they should teach that at negotiator school. Didnt Clinton do it at Camp David? Get the chopper all fired up, blades spinning. The mediator says he-or she-will walk and the parties get scared. Realize how much they need you and how much they need the talks. They suddenly see that any deal theyd make outside the room would be worse. And it brings them together, both sides desperate to keep the talks going. You mediation guys call it a shared project, dont you? Something like that. Even unites them against a common enemy: you. Genius.
You were listening.
Its the training, what can I say?
You arsehole.
I like how you say that. Ahhhrse-hole. Sounds sexy in your accent.
Get out.
Though I see you dont really do sexy so much these days. No more of the hair-tumbling-down-in-front-of-the-eyes routine. Is that Edwards influence?
Go.
Oh, Ill go. But first I have a little proposal to make.
Maggie stared at him.
Dont worry, not that kind of proposal. Not that I couldnt be tempted, should you ever get tired of Edward-
Im going to call the police. She reached for the phone.
No youre not. And we both know why.
That stopped her; she put the phone down. He knew about her mistake. And he would tell. The Washington Post, some blog, it didnt matter. The true reason for her exile, currently known only to a few diplomatic insiders, would become public. What was left of her reputation would be ruined.
What do you want? Almost a whisper.
We want you to come out of retirement.
No.
Come on, first rule of any negotiation: you have to listen.
I am not having a negotiation with you. I want you to piss off.
The people I work for tend not to take no for an answer.
And who is it you work for exactly? The United States government is a bit vague.
Lets say this has come from as close to the top as you can get in this town. You have a reputation, you know. Miss Costello.
Well, you can tell them Im flattered. But the answer is no.
Youre not even curious?
No, I am not. I dont do that work any more. I work here now. I mediate between husbands and wives. And I dont take emergency cases. Which means you have about one minute to get up and leave.
I wont insult your intelligence, Maggie. You read the papers. You know whats happening in Jerusalem. Were this close to a deal. He held his thumb and forefinger half an inch apart. Weve never been so close before.