Read The Righteous Men (2006) for Free Online Page B

not seemed like a politician at all, more like a teacher. He had constantly
peppered their conversation with references to books and films, wondering if
Will had read some obscure Dutch theologian or seen a new and controversial
Polish movie. Will had left their conversation feeling inadequate but also
convinced Curtis was destined for oblivion: he seemed too intellectual for the
blood sport of high politics.
    As his former interviewee had risen through the Cabinet, Will became
embarrassed by his own lack of political foresight.
    CNN was now showing a clip of a white-haired cleric in a grey suit with just
a slice of purple showing underneath. The bishop’s face, flushed with
wrath, seemed to be trying to match the colour of his shirt. CNN identified him
as the leader of the British equivalent of America’s Church of the Reborn
Jesus, a fiercely moral wing of Christian evangelism. ‘This is a sinful man!’
he was saying of the Chancellor, to the murmured rhubarb of agreement and
disagreement in the chamber. If it is true that he has been embezzling from the
public purse, he must be cast out!’
    Will turned it off and went to the computer. Beth would sleep till morning
now. He thought about waking her up so they could talk some more. They had a
rule: never go to bed on a fight. But she was so deeply asleep he would hardly score
any points by disturbing her now. He had seen how she looked. She could wear a
dozen different expressions in the course of the night: serene, brow furrowed,
even ironic amusement. More than once, Will had been woken by the sound of his
wife laughing in her sleep at some secret joke. But just now, even with her
autumn-brown hair falling over most of her face, he spotted what he feared was
a worry line in her forehead, as if she was concentrating hard.
    He imagined smoothing it away, with just a touch of his hand.
    Perhaps he should go back in and do just that. No, he thought.
    What if she woke up and their row reopened? Better to leave it be.
    Might as well pull an all-nighter instead, write up the Macrae story and
deliver it first thing. At least that would impress Harden. And it would be an
excuse not to go into the bedroom.
    At the keyboard, his mind kept wandering away from Letitia, Howard and the
streets of Brownsville. He knew what Beth wanted and biology, or something, was
standing in their way. He had been encouraged by the hospital’s attitude:
give it time. But Beth was not used to being a patient. She liked to sit in the
other chair. And she wanted clarity: a diagnosis, a course of action.
    Besides, he knew, getting pregnant was only part of the story. Beth had
become irritated by his professional singlemindedness, his determination to
make his mark. When they first met, she would say how much she liked his drive;
she found it sexy. She admired his refusal to coast along, to trade on his
father’s prestige. He had made things difficult for himself — he
could have gone back to America when he turned eighteen and used the family
name to breeze into Yale — and she admired that. Now, though, she wanted
the ambition to cool down. There were other priorities.
    He finally crashed out just after four am. He dreamed he was on a boating
lake, pushing a punt like some cheesy gondolier. Facing him, twirling a
parasol, was a woman. It was probably Beth but he could not quite see. He tried
squinting, determined to make out the face. But the sun was in his eyes.

CHAPTER SIX
Monday, 10.47am, Manhattan
    The good sinner: the story of a New York life
— and death.
    Will stared at it, not on B6 or B11 or even B3 but A1: the front page of
The New York Times . He had stared at it on the subway into work, looked
at it some more as he walked to the office and had spent most of the time at
his desk pretending not to look at it.
    He had arrived to a bombardment of congratulatory email, from colleagues
sitting three feet away and old friends living in different continents, who had
learned of his feat via the