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badly?’
    ‘He finds it useful. To be honest, I’m still not sure why he signed up.’
    ‘And the two lunatics with him?’
    ‘The cash covers their bar tabs, if nothing else. And the one called Angel sends me letters.’ Ross couldn’t bring himself to look Holt in the eye as he spoke. That goddamned Angel …
    ‘What kind of letters?’
    ‘He’s convinced that federal agents receive keys to restricted restrooms. He wants one for himself.’
    There was a pause that spoke volumes, then:
    ‘Restrooms.’
    ‘Yes. Special ones, in Amtrak stations and airports. Museums too.’
    ‘Jesus.’
    Holt, hopeful that no more sudden shocks were about to come his way, risked a second attempt at his wine, successful this time.
    ‘Am I the only one who hears a ticking sound?’ he asked.
    ‘With respect, you’re asking a lot of questions for someone who’d prefer not to know.’
    ‘Why do you think I’m asking them here, and not back at Federal Plaza?’
    ‘Parker is part of what’s to come,’ said Ross. ‘The closer we keep him, the better equipped we’ll be to react when it happens.’
    ‘You know, I’m the only deputy director who doesn’t suspect that you’re insane. And sometimes even I’m not entirely convinced.’
    ‘I’m touched by your faith in me.’
    ‘Are you monitoring him?’
    ‘He uses a cell phone for work, and we have ears on that, but I’m sure he knows. He has others, but he changes them regularly. We’re on his e-mails as well, but he’s smart, and doesn’t commit anything of value to electronic communications.’
    ‘And you’re sure that he has the list?’
    Parker had negotiated his deal with Ross by passing him part of a list of names retrieved from the wreckage of an airplane in Maine’s Great North Woods. The list, Ross believed, contained the identities of those who were in league with various elements, all of them united by one aim: to find the Buried God, release it from its captivity, and just maybe bring about Armageddon, all of which Ross had most assuredly not put in any official memos.
    ‘What we’ve received so far checks out. He’s promised more. I also believe that he used the list to track down Ormsby.’
    ‘Parker’s playing us.’
    ‘Perhaps.’
    ‘To what end?’
    ‘I think he’s looking for something.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘A pattern.’
    ‘And what will this pattern reveal?’
    ‘A name. A controlling influence.’
    Holt wore the expression of a man who believes that he might accidentally have ingested a wasp, and would only find out for sure when it started to sting him.
    ‘And if he screws up?’ he said. ‘Or dies? We’ll lose everything. That list, wherever it is, will be gone forever.’
    ‘If that were to happen, then I believe the rest of the list would find its way to us. My understanding is that Parker has made arrangements.’
    Their food arrived. Ross thought that Holt’s fried chicken looked very good, even to someone like himself who generally eschewed it.
    ‘Do you like him?’ asked Holt.
    It was a strange question. Ross wasn’t sure that he had an answer. He did think that he understood something of Parker’s essence, even if the man entire remained an enigma to him. Ross had been educated by Jesuits, and had, for a time, considered entering the order until sanity prevailed, even if he suspected that he had simply exchanged the possibility of one ambitious, secretive order for the reality of another. The Jesuits practiced ‘discernment’, which required listening and waiting in order to establish what course of action God might wish in a given situation. Parker, too, was a man who listened and waited, but for what voice Ross could not say. Also, the actions of Jesuits, unlike those of Parker, did not typically run to guns and violence, or end with entire communities being put to the torch.
    ‘I think he’s a good man,’ he replied, eventually.
    ‘God preserve us from good men,’ said Holt. ‘Do you trust him?’
    ‘Yes,’