THE NEXT DAY, the G-8 meetings were scheduled to begin as originally planned. The hard-liners, the tough guys in Washington, wanted it that way. So be it.
The proceedings1 were set for that night, with a reception in the Rodin Gallery at the Palace of the Legion of Honor overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge.
It would be hosted by Eldridge Neal, one of the most admired African Americans in the country, the current vice3 president. Every available uniform was assigned to security detail at the venues4 and along the routes. Every ID would be triple-checked, every trash can and air vent5 sniffed6 by explosive-detecting dogs.
But Danko was still out there.
And Carl Danko was still the only link to his son I had.
I drove back to Sacramento while the rest of the depart-ment prepared for the G-8 festivities. Carl Danko seemed surprised to see me again. "Thought you'd be accepting some kind of Medal of Honor today. The killing7 of young kids seems to be a habit with you people. So, why are you here?"
"Your son," I told him.
"My son is dead."
But Danko sighed and let me in. I followed him back to
his den2. A fire was burning there. He knelt down and stoked the flames, then sat down in an easy chair. "Like I told you before, the time to talk about William was
thirty years ago." "Not Billy," I said. "Charles." Danko seemed to hesitate. "I told the federal boys -" "We know," I interrupted him mid-sentence. "We know
his record, Mr. Danko. We know he isn't dead."
The old man snarled8, "You people won't stop, will you? First William, now Charlie. Go take your medals, Lieutenant9. You caught your killers10. What makes you think you can come in here and tell me Charlie is alive?"
"George Bengosian," I answered.
"Who?"
"George Bengosian. The second victim. He knew Billy
back at Berkeley. More than knew him, Mr. Danko. He was the one who turned your son in." Danko shifted in his easy chair. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"And Frank Seymour? He was killed in the Rincon Center blast the other day. Seymour was the lead agent on the Hope Street raid that killed your son. Charles is out there. He's killing innocent people, Mr. Danko. I think he's gone mad. I think you do, too."
The old man took a deep breath. He stared into the fire, then got up and went over to a desk. He took out a pack of letters from a bottom drawer. Tossed them in front of me on the coffee table.
"I didn't lie. My son has been dead to me. I've seen him once, five minutes on a Seattle street corner, in the past thirty years. Few years ago, these began to arrive. Once a year, around my birthday."
Jesus, I'd been right all along. Charles Danko was alive....
I took the letters and began to sort through them.
The old man shrugged11. "Guess he's teaching college or something."
I inspected the envelopes; no return addresses. But the last four had originated up north. Portland, Oregon. One, as recently as January 7, four months ago.
Portland.
A thought flashed through my head. It couldn't be a coin-cidence. Stephen Hardaway had gone to college in Portland. Reed. I looked back at the old man. "You say he's teaching? Teaching where?"
He shook his head. "Don't know."
But I knew. Suddenly I knew with a clarity that was inescapable.
Danko was at Reed, wasn't he? All this time, he was up there teaching college.
That was how he and Stephen Hardaway met.
1 proceedings | |
n.进程,过程,议程;诉讼(程序);公报 | |
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2 den | |
n.兽穴;秘密地方;安静的小房间,私室 | |
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3 vice | |
n.坏事;恶习;[pl.]台钳,老虎钳;adj.副的 | |
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4 venues | |
n.聚集地点( venue的名词复数 );会场;(尤指)体育比赛场所;犯罪地点 | |
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5 vent | |
n.通风口,排放口;开衩;vt.表达,发泄 | |
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6 sniffed | |
v.以鼻吸气,嗅,闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 );抽鼻子(尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气);抱怨,不以为然地说 | |
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7 killing | |
n.巨额利润;突然赚大钱,发大财 | |
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8 snarled | |
v.(指狗)吠,嗥叫, (人)咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 );咆哮着说,厉声地说 | |
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9 lieutenant | |
n.陆军中尉,海军上尉;代理官员,副职官员 | |
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10 killers | |
凶手( killer的名词复数 ); 消灭…者; 致命物; 极难的事 | |
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11 shrugged | |
vt.耸肩(shrug的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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