---

 
Before I went back to Vegas I thought it was important to put Tom in the picture regarding my plans to take down Arun, such as they were at that stage. Rather than do it at his office, I thought I should talk to him as a family member. So over Sunday dinner, at Susan's, after we'd all eaten well and were feeling relaxed and agreeable, I asked him whether it was okay to discuss business.

“Is anything illegal involved?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Of course not," I said. “Or I wouldn’t be discussing it in front of Susan. I know that would make her an accessory, right? Even discussing it in her home would make her vulnerable."

He nodded.

“Tom, one thing you have to know about me. I may be a fuckup in a hundred other ways, but I will not – ever – put my sister in any danger."

“We have that in common." He reached across the table to take Susan’s hand. I thought that was sweet.

“We have a lot of things in common," I said. “Except I think you have more common sense. So does Susan."

I knew Susan wanted to ask me some questions at that point, but she wisely declined. As we got older we were both getting better at dealing with one another.

I went on to outline what I had in mind for taking down Arun. “Tom. You’ve got to let me know if any of this is illegal. If it is, I won’t do it.” I spoke loudly and clearly, like I was speaking for an audience. “I am not proposing any kind of illegal conspiracy. If you advise me that anything I say involves breaking the law, I will not do it." I lowered my voice again. “That was for the wiretaps and bugs and whatever."

“Bugs?" Susan said, suddenly uncomfortable. I shrugged.

“Your sister," Tom said to her, “is a smart girl."

I had the grace to blush.

“It’s not illegal, Alex," Tom said. “Everything you said to the Feds about card counting, you’re right. It’s not illegal. If you are playing with your own money, then any winnings you make are yours. They have nothing to do with Arun."

“But if my earnings came from Arun in the first place, then isn’t the money I’m gambling with illegal money?"

“Good point. I think I have a solution for that."

Maybe my paranoia had infected Tom. Or maybe the fact that I’d just mentioned being in Susan’s house had done it. Whatever the reason, he suggested we all go for a walk around the block. When he first mentioned it Susan had given him a look like he was crazy, but she wasn’t stupid, either.

When we were at the front door, Tom extracted his cellphone from his pocket, and held it up. He motioned to me and Susan to do the same. I was mystified, but I drew my cellphone from my purse and gave it to him. After giving him another ‘you’re crazy’ look, so did Susan. He set them all on the table in the hallway, and we stepped outside.

As we were walking, Tom explained. “We’re not in the house, no bugs. We’re not standing still, no parabolic mics, or at least no reliable parabolics. We’re not carrying cellphones. All we have to worry about is whether one of us is wearing a wire. I love Susan, you’re my client. We good?"

“Yo, we good.” I said, smiling. Something in the way he said it made me want to come over all gangsta.

“Alex, we're going to need to pay the IRS anything you haven't already given them, and probably turn over most of the cash you've made."

“Most of it?"

“Almost all of it. If you keep it, it’s the proceeds of crime. Title 18 says you can’t engage in a financial transaction with proceeds that come from what the law calls 'specified unlawful activities.' Money laundering is one of those activities. I think I can work out a way you can keep some, but you're going to need to give the Government most of what you have."

“And this is going to help?"

“It will be evidence of your bona fides, yes. Your good intent. If we make the offer to them before they come after you, you might get away with offering them only 70 or 80 percent."

Tom looked around once more, as though checking once again that we were alone and out of earshot. “We need to park whatever cash you have, as cash, right now. How much do you have, cash?"

“About a million five," I said.

“Sweet Jesus," Tom said quietly. “Cash cash?"

I nodded.

“Where?"

“In three safe deposit boxes." I said. “One in Vegas, two here in Boston."

“And in bank accounts?"

“About a hundred and forty thousand." Then I remembered there was more.

“How were you intending to explain this to the IRS?"

“I figure they have some idea, the casinos file the reports and if the IRS knows all my aliases they’ll have been tracking all my winnings over ten thousand dollars. They mightn’t know everything. But I remembered there’s more."

“More cash?"

“About one hundred and ten thousand taped to the back of my refrigerator. I don’t think the IRS or the casinos know about that.“ I thought about it for a few moments. “In fact I'm certain nobody except you guys knows about that."

“Christ Almighty." Tom shook his head.

“But I also have a lot of stock. Maybe almost a million? I got in on some good IPOs. Do I have to give that back too?"

“Christ on a cracker. Is there anything else?" Tom said.

I couldn't think of anything, so stayed silent.

“Okay. You better hope your fridge doesn’t need repairing … Now, you dress nice,” he said, his Jersey accent coming through. “I guess you could have spent it all on expensive shoes and restaurants. They might go for that."

“Seems doubtful," Susan ventured.

“I mean really expensive shoes," Tom said. “And designer dresses, and stuff. I’ll find out from Dave Robicheaux where his wife buys hers."

“Puhleeze," I said, visualizing some store that forty-somethings shopped at. “I do not live in Lincoln. I’ll find my own expensive clothes, thank you."

“Dave Robicheaux’s wife is your age," Tom said. “She’s his third wife. You’ll like where she shops. And you need to look like you’ve disposed of a lot of income."

“I don’t want to seem unsophisticated," Susan said, “but it strikes me even Imelda Marcos couldn’t spend that much on shoes."

“Well, they mightn’t know exactly how much Alex has made. If it just looks like she’s spent a lot, they’ll expect her to have a lot."

“Um," I said.

“What?" said Tom.

“Well, if keep the money from the fridge, and turn all the rest over to the Feds, I don’t know that I want to spend all my remaining cash on shoes."

Tom laughed. “Only a few, Alex. You need to be seen to have lived the high life at the meetings you have with the Feds from now on."

“Gee that sounds tough," Susan said.

“Tom?"

“Yeah?"

“If I give this money to the Government, what will they do with it?"

“It will go to the Treasury, I think."

“I'm not sure they need the money," I said. This was in the Clinton years, when the country was running a surplus. “What are they gonna do, buy another rug for the White House?"

“Point made," Tom said. “Okay. But we still have to get rid of most of the money, in a way they won’t want to get it back, but won’t be able to fault you for."

“And the stock?"

“I think you’ll lose most of that, too. Maybe I can save some of the earnings, but it will require some negotiation."

“If I gave it all to charity?"

“They could ask for the money back from the charity. It’s the proceeds of crime. Nobody's entitled to it."

“There has to be another way," I said.

“Give me some time," Tom said. “We have to make an offer. I think I might be able to save you about 20 points on the dollar. Maybe … No promises though."

“That's still a lot of money," Susan said.

It was, by my standards of only a few years earlier.

“Susan, I know this is going to sound like bullshit." She was going to interrupt, so I held up my hand to stop her. “But honestly, it’s never been about the money. It was the challenge. And the belonging. I don’t have the belonging, any more. And I don’t enjoy the challenge, now I know what it’s for."

I meant that.

“So, you know, maybe it’s for the best that I don’t have it."

“You have a conscience like your sister's," Tom said.

“I don’t know about that. But yeah, I have a conscience."

“Other people," Tom said, “Would say that it wasn't really stealing because it came from the casinos."

“Tom," Susan said, shocked. “It wasn't stealing. You know that. Alex won that money. It’s just she used some bad money to do it. It wasn't stealing."

“You should be a lawyer," Tom said to her jokingly. “You want a job?"

The truth was, I wasn't that worried about the money. I never had been. It’s easy for rich people to say that, but it’s true. I just wasn't sure it ought to go to the government coffers. There had to be a more redemptive way of disposing of it.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Back at home I found a letter with a Berkeley postmark. I opened it, and found a note from Carl Choi, of all people.

Dear Alex
It was great to see you at Jim and Alison's wedding last week. I am very sorry you had to leave early, as I would very much have liked to have had more time to talk to you. I do apologize if any of us made you feel awkward at all. You certainly have no reason to feel awkward.
I am very pleased to have met you again after all these years. I admired you more than you ever knew when we were at school together, and you helped me when I was young — more than you can know. If there is anything I can ever do for you in return I would be very, very pleased to do so.
It was so good to see you have found your true self.
I would like it if we could stay in touch. I can assure you I have no prurient interest. I'd just like to make sure we keep the connection we've had, which I've missed since 1991.
My best wishes,
Carl

I had no idea how I had ever helped Carl, except maybe by sharpening his math skills in competition, but I thought it was a sweet note, and a nice antidote to the odd aftertaste I had experienced following my final interaction with John Ostermeyer.

 

~o~O~o~
 

I had developed a tiny program to track the ins and outs of the team's money, which I ran on my desktop computer at home. I'd never bothered to actually design a UI for it, so I ran most of the queries against the DB in the console. I had been doing some entries into it, updating the results of the previous month's work, and I was also doing some idle chat on IRC while surfing the vast wasteland that Usenet had become, when I noticed a strange result to a query I had run. There was an IP address in a call that I didn't recognize.

I went next door to ask Pete what he thought. He came into my room. As he did I was conscious of just how feminine the room seemed now. It had kind of crept up on me. Maybe it was because it was the first time Pete and I had been there together while not drunk or hungover.

He sat at my desk and reviewed the log while I stood looking over his shoulder. “Whose IP address is this?"

“It seems like it’s a server at a water pumping station near San Luis Obispo." I said. “But I doubt that's true."

“Hmmm. Whatever it is, it’s not good. If I was you I'd be getting this machine off the network."

“You think?"

“Well, what the fuck do you know about connecting to California?" Pete said, waving his hand at the code. “It’s not an advertising call. Whatever it is, it’s authenticating against a server that you don’t know anything about."

“And?" I felt like an idiot. Only two years ago I had been a computer expert. Was estrogen rotting my brain?

Pete ran a few queries in a new shell. Then he opened a Word document and began typing.

“It sends a new payload whenever it sees anything new in a Microsoft Office product. And maybe some others. You still running your Harvard email in Mutt?" Mutt was a Unix email client I had been using at Harvard and then at Gene Systems. I had switched to Outlook only a few months earlier, because I was getting lazy and wanted to use my local ISP and Harvard addresses in the same interface.

“You have an email account with our ISP? That you use with Outlook?“ Pete asked, as though asking me whether or not I had herpes.

“So what is this payload?" I asked. “Where does it go?"

“I don’t know," Pete said. “It might take a while to find out. You should ask Talia to look into it."

We both woke her up. After coaxing her out of bed by telling her my machine was compromised, she found the problem, after a few hours of searching. There was a trojan on the box we used as a home server. This made Talia furious.

“This is unacceptable, guys. We run a clean network here. Both of you should know enough not to allow this sort of thing."

Her grammar was off, but her message was clear. And I was puzzled. None of us were naive enough to fall for the usual tricks that go with Malware. Except me, running Microsoft Outlook.

“Talia, just a hunch, but would you take a look at all our machines?" I asked. “Take all the time you like. I'm going to buy a new laptop anyway," I said. “And there's nothing on my desktop machine I'm embarrassed about."

“Tough shit if there is," she said. “Give me 24 hours. Go to bed. Then tomorrow, go buy your laptop. Buy me a new one as a fucking apology. You can afford it. A good one. Buy Pete one, too. Pete, I'm going to do fresh installs on all the machines on our network. Including yours. I didn't need to sleep tonight anyway."

 

~o~O~o~
 

Next morning I had breakfast with Beverly. (To be honest, it was brunch. It was 10am by the time I roused myself from bed and showered.) Samantha was playing on the floor while the two of us talked, and from time to time she made odd gurgling sounds that were very appealing. I reflected that less than two years earlier I viewed small children as little more than annoyances. Maybe there was hope for me with the human race, after all.

Over coffee I happened to notice a disconnection notice from Verizon, on the kitchen bench next to one of Samantha's drawings. I didn't really know how to address a subject like that delicately, so I just flat out asked her whether she was having problems. She was, as I would have been, embarrassed. I mentally slapped myself for being an idiot. Yet again I was failing at being an adult. Adults were well-mannered, thoughtful. They thought about the impact of their word before they uttered them.

But the words, once out, were there. “I'm sorry," I said. “It’s none of my business."

Beverly made a show of tidying some dishes. “It’s okay, Alex. It’s actually nice to know someone cares. Dave couldn't care less, the f-- the deadbeat."

“Can I help?"

“How could you help?“ she said.

“I could pay some bills for you."

“I couldn't let you do that.“ Now she was embarrassed again.

“How is it different from Dave paying them?"

“Dave is Samantha's father. He should --"

“Well, he's not going to. Maybe if I pay a few things while he's not doing it? I mean, it’s not like you volunteered to take on all of this on your own, did you?"

“No, but …"

“You don’t like taking money, right?"

“I don’t think anyone does, do they?" She said. “But you don’t even have a job, Alex.“ She looked at me as though reconsidering. “Do you?"

“I have a sort of job,“ I said. “Which is kind of screwed up. And for your sake as much as mine, it’s probably better if we don’t talk too much about it, because it’s not a wholesome job."

“You're a hooker?"

I laughed heartily. “No, nothing like that. That's great, Beverly."

“I'm sorry,“ she said. “Really."

“No, honestly, that's great. I love it." I did, actually. It was such a preposterous idea. “Beverly, I couldn't get laid if my life depended on it."

“You and me both."

“Anyway," I said, trying to change the subject back, and picking up the Verizon letter of demand. “How about I pay this?“ I noticed another overdue utility bill, from Commonwealth Energy Systems. “And this one? And we agree that we both find better ways to deal with our sex lives?"

She must have been in a bad way because she agreed to let me pay the utilities. “I’ll pay you back."

“Of course," I said. “Maybe you could sell me your child. She is exceptionally cute."

Beverly looked at me like she was wondering if I was actually serious, then she laughed. “I’ll give you a discount."

I changed the subject again, and mentioned I was headed to buy some new computers. Beverly didn't know anything about computers, and when I started to describe what had happened she made a whooshing motion over her head with her hand.

“You want to come with?" I said. “Get you out of the house, get a little sun. We can head over to Fresh Pond first, take Samantha for a walk and some sun."

So we headed out in my Jetta. I was learning that heading out, when you have a small child, is actually a pretty major exercise. For a start, you have to pack for myriad contingencies, and then there's always one thing you've forgotten. I had the baby seat perpetually fitted in the back of the Jetta now, which had gotten some odd comments from Lucy and Alice, but made the process of travelling with Samantha much simpler.

At the Pond we walked the perimeter road and Beverly told me the story of her disastrous relationship with Dave. Although her life — her whole life — was completely different from mine, especially now, since she had Samantha, there was a common thread running through both our experiences.

“You know, Beverly," I said after she'd unloaded on Dave a little more, and then on herself, needlessly. “You and I have something in common."

She looked at me like she had no idea what I was talking about.

“Both of us fell into something without thinking it through properly. With you, it was marriage. With me, it was gambling."

So then, of course, I had to tell her the whole story. Well, the story without the bits about gender.

 

~o~O~o~
 

We were loading Samantha back into the Jetta and about to head for the computer store when Pete called my cell. “You got Talia her laptop yet?" he asked.

“On the way now. Beverly and I have just been for a walk."

“That must be nice. And I can imagine shopping for laptops with a toddler in tow is going to make the sales clerks want you out of the store double quick."

“Ha. I hadn't thought of that. Yeah, we'll either get great service, or really terrible service."

“I'm betting good. Two good looking chicks, plus baby, you're going to get attention. Hey, Vassily had a talk with me this morning."

“Yes?"

“He said his friends know the Russians who are connected to Arun, and they're not the kind of Russians you want to get to know any better."

“I had kind of figured that out."

“Yeah, well. I asked him if there was any way to get them to back off. Vassily thought you should enlist his friends."

“Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t want to end up like some kind of Michael Corleone, holed up at Lake Tahoe with my guards, waiting for a Russian hit."

Beverly was looking at me from the passenger seat, alarmed. I smiled to try to reassure her, and started the car.

“Yeah, I figured you would say that," Pete said. “Just passing on the message. You want to hang out tonight?"

“Depends. You think Talia is going to chain me to the computer?"

“I guess it’s a possibility she may beat you to death if you get her the wrong sort."

I laughed. “I thought I'd get her one of those pretty pink Sony Vaios. Or a purple one. Isn't purple for suffragettes or something?"

Pete chortled. “Just get her something that has a good processor, and has about two million ports for expansion or something."

“Yeah, I know. Maybe I’ll get a sparkly purple one for myself."

“Who are you and what have you done with my friend Alex?"

“Say goodbye, Pete," I said.

“Goodbye, Pete."

 

~o~O~o~
 

Back at home Talia had been somewhat mollified with my offering of a new top of the range IBM ThinkPad. She had an answer on the mystery of the compromised computers. There was a small program on our home server that had been put there just to capture logins and authentication details from within our own internal domain. It, in turn, appeared to have been installed by a program that was running in the background on my desktop machine in my bedroom, which I sometimes used to log on to shares on Pete's and Talia's machines. That program, as Pete had discovered, sent any information it found from a Microsoft Office program to a server in California, and then, maybe, to somewhere else.

I was the weak link.

“The question is,“ Talia said. “how did that first program get on your machine?"

It was as I was going to sleep that night that I remembered the unsigned Java Code I'd installed for Alice's AI project.

 

~o~O~o~
 

I went to the team meeting the following night feeling unsettled. We were meeting upstairs above the same cafe where I had overheard Alice and Arun talking about making me a wizard all those months ago. Now I had different reasons to be nervous about Arun, and while I didn't want to listen in to any private conversations, I passed almost every utterance from him through a filter of paranoia.

“It’s never going to work," I said to Tom by cellphone while driving home after the meeting. “I can’t be some kind of double agent. I'm just not cut out for it."

“I know it won’t be easy," Tom said.

“I didn't think it would be easy," I said. “But I thought it would be possible. Now, I don’t know."

“Alex, if you back out now, it’s not going to go well with Treasury."

“So I have no choice but to stay on this rollercoaster? I feel like my head is going to explode, just being in the same room as Arun. It’s all I can do to not just tell everyone else on the team what's going on."

“It’s not an easy choice, Alex. And there is a choice, it’s up to you. But if you decide against cooperating, my professional opinion is … Well, let's just say I would advise you should continue. Even if only for your own safety. Treasury can protect you."

I checked my rearview mirror. I hadn't seen any cars following me, but that didn't mean they weren't.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Arun had decided we should hit the Mirage again the next time we went to Vegas, even though it had only been about six weeks since our last big score there. For this trip Alice, Lucy, Sally, Emily and I all flew in on the same flight, acting like a bunch of spoiled Asian princesses. We stayed in a different hotel to the guys, and never ate or shopped or so much as talked with them. Arun took care of the money he and the guys made, and I took care of the money we girls made. As we were checking in at Logan for the flight to Vegas, Lucy remarked that she thought it was an inspired idea. “I hate travelling with the guys. They always make me feel like I'm the go-fer, or something.“

“Perhaps we should start an all-girl team," Sally said.

However much the idea appealed, I knew there was no way Arun would just let us walk out on our own. Playing cards wasn't really what this whole thing was about.

I looked at Sally, standing behind me at the check-in counter. She was so much younger than Alice and Lucy and I. I almost felt like I needed to take her aside and tell her to run, just run, and never ever look back. Instead I handed over my ID and ticket and went through with the check-in.

 

~o~O~o~
 

On that flight to Vegas, I sat next to Alice in First. Since it was a daytime flight we weren't likely to fall asleep, even though we'd been up late the night before, and so we both read novels. I figured that, as usual, we'd pretty much keep to ourselves for the whole flight. I always preferred flying that way. Even with a friend, there's something constricting about conversing in an airliner. It’s like it’s difficult for a conversation to end naturally, because you're both still sitting next to one another.

But at one point Alice put her novel down on her knee and turned to me and started to talk about my feelings about being on the team. It was almost a reprise of our earlier discussion about going to grad school.

“You're not going to do this forever," she said.

I briefly thought she was making a reference to my silence, but then I realized she was talking about my playing on the team.

“Neither are you." I countered. “You already said that. What happened to the PhD?"

She shrugged. “Next year."

“Same here," I said.

“Really? I was only wondering, because you know, with the way your life has changed … and I was wondering about your friend Pete."

“What about Pete?"

“I was going to ask you that. What about him?"

“Alice. Pete and I are just good friends."

“But you like him."

“Of course I like him."

“In that way?"

I was mildly irritated by her. “Alice, can we not talk about my love life, or lack of it? I don’t push you to tell me about yours."

“I would tell you, if you asked."

Suddenly I wanted to ask. I'd been curious for so long about the kind of man who could hold Alice Kim's heart. And yet I was perverse. I had this odd feeling that if I asked for her to tell me, it would be like asking for a favor. I would owe Alice something all of a sudden. I didn't mind owing her anything, really, but there was something about the whole dynamic of the way the conversation was headed that just felt off. Plus there was the trojan issue, and I still didn't know what to make of that.

I wondered briefly whether or not I should take Alice into my confidence. About Arun, about the IRS, about trying to work out some way out. Tom had warned me not to, but it seemed like there had started to be a gulf forming between Alice and me. I felt like I should mistrust her following the incident with the trojan, but I really wanted to believe in her, and to have us, the relationship we had had, back again. Maybe, I reflected, the all-girl weekend would help break that down. If we talked about the truth, would our conversation be more grounded, more real?

Coward that I am, I chickened out. I kept hearing Tom's warnings, and Pete's admonishment, in my head. On top of that, I was also conscious of Deuchar’s warning about Pete’s prospects at Command Dynamics if I did have relationship with him. Since that seemed impossible, what was the point even talking about it?

“I don’t know, Alice. I think it’s good for us to have our privacy sometimes. You can tell me if you want to. In the meantime, if you want to keep it secret, that's okay, too. With Pete and me? I don’t know. I keep feeling that there's something there, but then other times that feels ridiculous. Everything's going so well for him and I have this feeling he would want to move on even if there was something between us. So whatever we could have, you know, it would be fleeting. Fleeting until his stock vests, or he finds a prettier woman, or …"

“You don’t trust him?"

“I trust him completely, but he's on a fast rocket to success. He doesn't need me. He needs someone more … more real."

“But you have a relationship already."

“I think it’s a beautiful relationship, but I think it’s a transient one. I don’t think either of us is mature enough to understand how it can work. I don’t even know if he wants it to work."

“You have a low opinion of yourself, Alex. You are beautiful."

“I just think —" I said, really recognizing for the first time just how true it really was — “You know, I can enjoy whatever happens, but it’s eventually going to finish. And these beautiful moments we do have, it’s you know, like in Blade Runner, where you know they've only got a short time together. 'All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain.'"

“What?"

“I’ll have the memories, and he’ll have the memories, but they'll be memories that maybe aren't as true as they should be."

“I'm not sure I understand," Alice said. “Lost in time?"

“Blade Runner? The movie. Come on, you must know that bit. Rutger Hauer?"

“Rutger Hauer?" she asked.

“You never saw the movie?"

“Which movie? I'm not that much into movies, Alex, you know that.“

“Blade Runner. You've never seen Blade Runner? You've never seen a clip of that sequence, even?"

She looked at me blankly.

“Philip K Dick? Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? Ring any bells?"

Alice shrugged. I explained the significance of the scene, the thing about memories not being important to people who never had them in the first place. The tragedy of mortality.

“You know," I said, “I suppose in the future, with everything digitally preserved in some way or other, there won’t be the possibility of lost memories. Everyone is always going to think of Michael Jackson as well as the Apollo program whenever they think of the word 'moonwalk'."

It turned out Alice had never seen Michael Jackson moonwalking, either.

Our conversation drifted off into more popular culture. I didn't ask her to tell me who she was sleeping with, and she didn't ask me to believe in a long-term thing with Pete.

Next afternoon, after I'd slept late through the morning, I went to Alice's hotel room, and fired up her laptop computer and tried to find something that would give her an idea of what 'moonwalking' was. This was early 1999. YouTube hadn't been invented then, but at least I had Google. We found something, a segment of a music video, that I could show her using RealPlayer. Then I found an essay on Blade Runner someone had written for their film studies course at USC, that contained the famous quote. And I found a picture of Rutger Hauer from around the time of the movie. I think Alice finally got what I was talking about.

“You think you are like a … replicant?"

“Sort of, I guess. Although that wasn't why I raised Blade Runner. I was actually trying to talk about authentic memories. But whatever."

I was going to ask Alice whether she knew anything about the trojan that Talia had found, but the Blade Runner thing distracted me. I never did get around to it.

I mostly rationalized away Alice's ignorance as the product of a sheltered childhood. I knew her parents were strict. Maybe she was never allowed to watch MTV? Who knew? But it did seem strange that a woman who knew so much about so many things — and especially things about AI — couldn't recall some basic pop culture. How could you get a Masters Degree in Artificial Intelligence and never even have heard of Blade Runner or Philip K. Dick?

 

~o~O~o~
 

The team played well, and there were no unpleasant surprises. Arun might have been a crook, but I had to hand it to him, he knew how to organize people, and his plastic surgery strategy had enabled him to continue to turn over hundreds of thousands of dollars every night. Splitting up the accommodation by sex had also been an inspired idea, because people had fun for a change. It seemed like a long time had passed since we enjoyed our work.

On the flight back I kept to myself. I put my head back and tried to sort through some issues in my head: Alice Kim and the Blade Runner mystery, how to deal with the Treasury investigation, and what I was going to do when all this was over, assuming I was still alive. The only issue I made any progress on was the Treasury investigation.

“I think I figured out a way to get rid of the money in a way that keeps it out of the Government's hands," I said at Susan's the following night after we had finished dinner.

“I'm all ears," Tom said.

“You mentioned if I gave it to a charity the Government could ask for it back."

“Yes."

“What if it’s a charity that's so warm and cuddly, and the donation is so public, that they don’t dare?"

“It really depends. Mostly they'd ask for it back, unless there was a good reason not to. Do you have one in mind?"

“The Children's Chance Foundation."

“Never heard of it."

“It’s small, it’s worthy, and they do lots of work with disabled kids to let them go to regular schools. Won't the Government look cruel if they try to take money away from disabled children?"

“Well, they're not going to like it. But it might not be enough to dissuade the Government from seizing it, especially if they discover the donation quickly. What's so different about this charity that makes you think they won’t?“

“The State Attorney's wife is on the board and a former deputy director of the Department of Treasury is the chair. They'll have political contacts, I'm sure."

Tom thought for a few moments.

“I can see why you win at cards, Alex. It’s a good idea."

“I have one more."

“One more charity?"

“One more good idea."

“Is this an idea we need to go for a walk to discuss?"

“I think that might be another good idea."

Once again Tom, Susan and I walked the blocks around her home. “Well?“ Susan said. “What's this other big idea?"

“Once I give the money to the charity we won’t have much left, and even though the money doesn't really matter, I would like to have a little something to show for the past three years, after everything that's happened."

“That doesn't seem unreasonable, assuming there's a way that's legal," Tom said.

“What if we took legal money — not money I made from the team — and then we won money at Vegas, and declared it?"

“How would you do that, without the team?“ Susan asked. “The way you've explained it, the system sounds like it needs a very experienced team of players."

“It really only needs two or three people who are expert at counting. I think I could put together a team of three or four people if one of them included me."

“Well, there's also the problem of getting money to use as a stake. You need a big stake to make it worth your while, don’t you?" Tom asked.

“I have cash the Government doesn't know about."

“They might not believe it didn't come from the team," Tom said.

“So what if you — if Susan — put it in an account and I drew it from that account?"

“Where would Susan get that much money?“ Tom said. “Wait. Never mind. I can figure out a way to do this. It shouldn't come from Susan, but it can come from another source. Okay, I'm intrigued. What makes you sure you can pull this off?"

We walked another few blocks and I outlined my plan. I was going to need a lot of help, perhaps from people like Carl Choi, if he would do it, and from Pete and Vassily and Yana and Susan. Perhaps Alice. The more trustworthy people the better.

As we rounded the corner of her street on the way back to her house Susan brought me back down to earth. She placed her hands on my shoulders, and looked me straight in the eyes. “So you have a way to make money, Alex. You'll stop after that, right? After one time?"

“Yes, of course."

“Your word?"

“I promise."

“I believe you. Now, all you have to do is work out a way to help the Feds get your friend Arun before they throw you in jail."

“Yes," I said gloomily. “I haven't quite got that figured out, yet."

Then Tom stopped walking, and took Susan’s hand. “Susan, I love you. I will do anything for you. I want to help your … sister. I need you to trust me."

“I trust you," Susan said.

“Is this going to hurt us?" Tom said.

“Us? You mean you and me? Not if you do it right," Susan said.

“I am so glad you don’t take after Dad," I said to Susan.

“Alex?" She said.

“Yes?"

“I’ll help you in any way I can —"

“— Fantastic. Thank you!"

“— on one condition. You can bring in everyone you want. Except that Alice Kim."

“You don’t trust Alice?"

“Neither do you. And anyway, I still blame her for this." She waved her hands over my face.

“She tried to talk me out of it."

“Yeah. Please don’t throw me in the briar patch."

Susan always knew the best way to strike directly to my heart.

“Well," I said, after I'd taken her remark in, “I don’t know that things turned out so badly in that regard, anyway."

“Really?"

“Really," I said. “I mean it. I have a lot of regrets about other things, and I wouldn't have chosen this, but Dad was right. There are worse things in life, and I like myself better than I used to. So that's a plus."

“Good for you, kid," Tom said, and Susan hugged me.

 

~o~O~o~
 

It was only 10pm when I left Susan's, and I was energized by my plan to give the money to charity, and to make some money on the side. So I took a small detour from my usual route home from Susan's, and soon enough I found myself in Kendall Square. I turned the corner and noticed the lights still on in Alice's top floor apartment.

It was really too late to just knock on someone's door, but I knew she was up, and I felt like I needed to talk with her. Plus there was actually a vacant space outside her apartment on Berkshire Street, which was unheard of, and practically an invitation all its own. I parked the car, walked up the stairs to her apartment, and rang the bell.

Alice opened the door after checking the spyhole. “Alex!" She was dressed only in a super-long pink Hello Kitty t-shirt, and her hair was slightly disheveled. She glanced at her wrist as though to check a watch, but she wasn't wearing one.

“I'm sorry, I know it’s late. I saw the lights on, I didn't think —"

At that moment, through the gap in the door, I observed Arun coming out of Alice's bedroom, pulling his t-shirt on. Alice must have seen my expression change, because she looked back, pulling the door open slightly further as she did, and then she realized I had seen Arun.

“Uh, Alex …"

“I shouldn't have come so late, Alice. I'm sorry. I’ll talk with you tomorrow."

“No, it’s okay. Come in."

“Alice … Arun is the guy? Arun?"

She shrugged. “I thought you had already figured it out.“ Through the two doorways Arun's eyes met mine, and there was a smirk on his face, a gleam in his eyes that looked distressingly like “fuck you, buddy, I win."

I shifted my eyes back to Alice, who seemed distressed. “I'm going to go, Alice. I'm sorry."

I walked back down the stairs, without looking back. Alice must have stood there watching me for a while, because I was down the stairs before I heard her close the door of the apartment.

I felt betrayed. My feelings didn't make any sense. I had already had plenty of reasons to distrust Alice – but it didn't make my feelings any less strong. Alice had always been secretive about the man in her life, and maybe now I understood why, but it still felt like a kind of betrayal. Arun? I assumed that meant that Alice was in on everything Arun was in on.

I felt used. I remembered the thing I had said to Susan, not 90 minutes earlier. “I don’t know that things turned out so badly."

I didn't quite feel that way at that moment.

 

~o~O~o~
 

I was visibly upset when I came through the door to our apartment in Somerville. Pete was watching Aliens on the DVD player, and when he saw me he immediately paused it and jumped up from the couch.

I was too upset to process very much, but I told Pete what had happened, and he listened, and he put his arm around me and hugged me close to his chest. Then he sat me on the couch and went into the kitchen. He came back with a glass of whiskey for each of us, and we sat together on the couch while he tried to calm me down.

“Drink the whiskey, Alex, it will help you relax.“ He put his arm around me and pulled me in close again. It was good. He had obviously showered when he came home from work, and he smelled good. I leaned my head against his shoulder, and gradually I wound down.

Pete's hand made little circular motions on mine, and it felt great. I began to stop thinking about Alice, and just let the feelings of warmth and affection flow through me.

“Pete?"

“Yes?"

“Thank you."

“Any time. Ever. You know that."

He bent his head to kiss me, and so help me I raised my lips to meet his. His breath tasted of whiskey — I suppose mine did, too, but his tasted very strongly of whiskey. He kissed me, then he kissed me again, then his hand was off my arm and on my breast, and then it was under the neckline and reaching beneath my bra.

And it all felt good. It felt great. There was something about the way it all began — maybe it was that I was still sober — that made it different than the time we had wound up in bed together and I had woken with Pete's hand on my breast. This was deliberate, and caring, and the very deliberate-ness of it made it so much more appealing.

Eventually, after what was probably a half hour of petting but I really have no idea, Pete scooped me up from the couch and carried me to the bedroom. A smaller man would have stumbled as he lifted me, but Pete was in great shape.

In the bedroom he laid me on the bed, and then he began undressing me, which wasn't all that easy to do. I giggled, and then I started helping him, moving my arms and my hips where necessary. Then I started removing his clothes, as well, which was much easier.

Pete got me down to my panties and I crawled beneath the bedclothes. He snuggled in beside me, spooning me and cupping my breast with his hand while putting his other hand on my belly, but I wanted to face him and kiss him, so I rolled over. We kept kissing for a while and I could feel his hardness against me. I disengaged from the kiss and slid down the bed, about to try to satisfy him the way I thought would work, with my mouth, but he put his hand under my chin and stopped me.

And he looked me straight in the eyes, then kissed my forehead, and then the fucker got out of the bed. He had a raging hard-on but he stood away from me, and said quietly. “I'm sorry, Alex. I love you, but I can’t do this."

“You love me, but you can’t do this?"

He shook his head, and then he was gone, to his own room.

“What the fuck does that even mean?" I called after him. “I don’t even know what that means!"

I cried, and cried, and cried some more, until I exhausted myself enough to sleep. I had never felt so hopeless, so worthless, in my life, but I was damned if I was going to follow Peter Johanssen into his room and beg for anything.

 

~o~O~o~