The Hardest Thing

like being called stupid. “Surely you realized by that time that Marshall was out of your reach? If you were intending to blackmail… sorry, to persuade him to pay you the money he owed,
you’d missed your chance. Stirling McMahon’s evidence was of no further use to you. In fact, far from being useful, he was a danger. He could put you behind bars as well as Marshall.”
    “That’s crap.”
    “How else can I explain what happened to him in that warehouse, Ferrari? You tortured him and left him for dead. If that wasn’t a way of silencing him, what was it?”
    No comment from Mr. Ferrari.
    “You see, time and time again we come up against this mystery. Why would a tough guy like Enrico Ferrari suddenly start fooling around with Stirling McMahon? Why would he want to film him getting fucked up the ass by Major Stagg here? And why did he then attempt to… What was it, Major Stagg? What did he try to do to you?”
    I caught Ferrari’s eye and smiled.

    Enrico Ferrari testified in the pretrial hearing against Julian Marshall. The judge was satisfied that there was enough evidence to charge Marshall in the death of Trey Peters, and a full-scale police inquiry into the business methods of Marshall Land began. Immediately after the hearing, Ferrari was charged with abduction and assault. He complained to anyone who would listen that he’d been set up by the cops. He was ignored.
    It seemed like a pretty good result. Then I learned that Jody had suffered a brain hemorrhage.
    The message went from the hospital to the NYPD to Jack Rendell to Martin Kingston. It was Martin who told me.

    I sat in his apartment in Morningside Heights crying like a baby.
    “This changes everything,” said Martin, trying to comfort me. “They’ll throw the book at Ferrari. They’ll charge him with attempted murder, or…”
    “I don’t care about Ferrari!” God, I hate the sound of my voice when I’m crying. I don’t hear it that often. Twice, three times in my adult life. When Will died. When I broke down in the disciplinary hearing. Now. “If he dies…”
    I couldn’t go on; something big was trying to burst out of my chest. My heart, I guess.
    Martin went to the kitchen and fixed a sandwich. He understood the value of food at times like this. We ate in silence.
    “I don’t know what to do,” I said when I’d finished.
    “You’re going to go to him.”
    “What’s the point?”
    Martin said nothing, just looked at me. I wanted to run.
    “Look,” he said, “I’d like nothing better than to keep you for myself. I could lock you up in the apartment, let you out once in a while to go to the gym, and spend the rest of the time fucking that sweet marine ass of yours.”
    At least that made me smile.
    “But that wouldn’t be right for you, would it?”
    “Martin…”
    “You know what’s right for you.”
    “How can I just turn up in the hospital… I’m nothing to him. What can I do? I mean…he’s…”
    “Dying? Maybe. And if you don’t go, you’ll never
know what might have happened.”
    “I can’t help.”
    “Yes, you can.” I blew my nose and waited for him to explain. “There’s a chance that all that stuff you said to each other on the road—all the things you told me about—might actually have been true. You might love him.”
    “Oh, for god’s sake.”
    “And he might love you. Stranger things have happened.”
    “Guys like Jody don’t love guys like me.”
    “They trained you well in the marines, didn’t they, Dan? Made you believe all the bullshit.”
    “I can’t do it, Martin. I can’t just…”
    “Pack a bag. Be ready in ten minutes. I’ll drive.”

    Another car, another highway, another mission with little chance of success. Destination? Trenton, New Jersey, of course.
    Jody was recovering from emergency brain surgery in the intensive care ward. “You can’t go up now unless you’re family,” said the receptionist.
    “I’m not family.”
    “Then come back at five.”
    It was two o’clock in the afternoon. Three hours in which to decide that this was a waste of time, to run away, to blot it all out with drink or sex and return to New York City to wait for the next disappointment.
    They trained you well, didn’t they? Made you believe all the bullshit.
    Martin was right, damn him. I believed that guys like me go through life without attachments, making
tactical decisions, watching our backs. I let my guard down once with Will Laurence, and it cost me my career,