"Jack."
Jack halts, without turning around to face Bill. "What?"
"We lost track of him, Jack. Leonard," Bill said, disappointedly. "He drugged one of our field agents in Chinatown and got away."
Jack smiled a little to himself at Leonard's evasive techniques. "So? Did you expect him to just hand himself over to you?"
"Remember, brother," Bill said, "you we're as much a part of this as any of us. If not more so."
Jack turns now to face Bill, as much as the hard, piercing truth he just stated, as Bill takes a drag on the cigarette, Jacks says, "Not a damn day goes by, Bill, that I forget that, and not a second passes I don't regret it.
"Then help us," Bill pleaded through wafted cigarette smoke that swirled from his mouth, evaporating beneath the umbrella. "I promise you I'll personally see to it no harm comes to him whatsoever."
With a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, Jacks says, "I couldn't even do that, Bill. For Dorothea or my two sons. And now one of my son's lies in a grave. Don't make false promises, Bill. Not to mention late ones."
"Wasn't your fault, Jack, the way things turned out. Your intentions, man... they were good, noble even."
"You can afford to believe that" Jack said. " As for intentions. Hell. I found out the hard way how that old axiom of good intentions can most often get you an express ticket to hell."
"You're dead wrong, Jack. I'm responsible too for what Leonard's become and becoming. Eight years you and I spent developing and training him to use his gift, their gift. You can't live in denial anymore, Jack. It won't do you any good and won't save Leonard."
"Save him?" Jack interrogated. "What do you mean save him?"
"You know where this can lead," Bill cautioned.
Yes, it was a truth that ate at Jack's soul much like the cancer devouring his body. He had been and was still in a semi-state of denial to the ugly truth of his personal contribution for what he felt at the time was the right thing to do, but as time passed, only to learn how terribly wrong he was.
Bill continued, "We were following Leonard not to harass or intimidate him, but just to keep an eye on him for his own safety and the safety of others. We have a feeling he's up to something. Something big and he's using the death of Lawrence as an excuse to execute it."
Jack had been so long and far removed from the shadow world that what Bill was revealing was causing him much more confusion and trepidation than he was willing to deal with. In other words, he felt clueless.
"Execute," Jack repeated, which he knew to be a code word. "Execute what or who?"
"We're not certain," Bill said. "We do suspect a lot of lives are at stake, including Leonard's. We don't want that to happen and I'm sure you don't want to lose another son."
"Leonard's no terrorist," Jack said.
"I know that" Bill confessed. "But try and convince my colleagues. Though given what we both know that would be futile. Given the history we both know."
Jack thought it odd that Bill would say that, as if he were self-reflecting aloud as opposed to reminding him of what they had come to know. Bill was alluding to the fact that the United States government had some years ago, 1913 to be specific, had been taken over by a cartel of foreign investors and bankers and it was they who were not only the behind-the-scenes terrorist, but the manipulators as well in the popular belief of terrorism itself and the profitable wars that followed.
"Who else is involved with this?"
Bill hesitated. "I don't know much, but what I do you know I can't reveal."
"You want my help, Bill, you're going to have let me in on as much as possible."
"You know how things work, Jack. I'll let you know what I can. So does this mean you'll help?"
"Was Lawrence murdered?" Jack threw a fast ball to throw Bill off. How he reacted to it would be more telling than whatever admission or lack thereof spewed from Bill's mouth.
"Jesus, Jack." Bill looked around as if the possibility existed of someone overhearing their conversation. Spook habit.
"Answer me." Jack's outward demeanor was one of calmness and control, but it hid the storm raging within him.
"I don't know," Bill said, sincerely enough and with a measure of frustration. "Mind control's my specialty. Lawrence was a biochemist. The only thing I know about that is how to spell it. Besides, you know how all this is compartmentalized. You could be in the cubicle right next to another government agent, better yet, in the same cubicle and not know what the hell they're doing. I'm head honcho of special operations and don't know everything going on. Even the damn President of the United States doesn't know everything that's going on all the time." He whispered now, "You really suspect Lawrence was murdered?"
"Not sure," Jack sighed. For now, Jack would keep his cards close to his chest. He couldn't be sure about anything, and he knew in this business you don't trust anyone, including your so-called friends and close associates; especially them. "Would you have told me if you knew?"
Bill looked at Jack with a blank expression on his face as he dragged long on his cigarette. "Jesus, Jack. "I'm with you. But everybody else in the agency's caught up in the collective paranoia. You need time to think this over, I know. Especially under the current circumstances. Think hard about it, Jack, but not too long. Please."
Briefly, Jack pondered as rivulets of rainwater cascaded off his fedora. Then, he turned and without another word started walking towards the house that could be seen in the distance shrouded in a torrent of rain.