“So?” he said.
She sat back and took a deep breath. “Well, I guess it’s no secret that I’m not exactly a pacifist anymore. My life, these attacks . . . things just don’t make the same sort of sense that they used to, you know?”
“What do you mean, sweetheart?”
“All this regular, everyday stuff. School, college applications, summer jobs.” She stared out into the woods. “It’s like none of that matters anymore. Like it’s all distant, from another life or something.”
“It just sounds like you’re ready for the next stage in your life,” said Morgan.
“What? Going to college? No, Dad. That’s not it. It’s the normal stuff. Picking a major, choosing a career. Going through all that stuff. All that doesn’t make any sense anymore. How could it?” She pulled her hat from her head. “There are evil people in the world. People who would kill us, destroy us completely if they could. And they’re not only abroad. They’re here. They could even be in the goddamn government. The people we’re supposed to trust. How am I supposed to go to college knowing that? How am I supposed to get a job? Have a family?” Her sharp green eyes burned with a beautiful kind of intensity as she spoke.
“Well,” said Morgan, taken aback. It wasn’t the kind of advice he’d ever give her, but he certainly saw her point. “What else are you going to do?”
“Be like you, and fight,” she said.
He really should have seen this one coming.
“Honey . . .” he began. He didn’t quite know what to say.
“What? I shouldn’t, because it’s dangerous? Is that what you were going to say?”
“It was something along those lines, yes,” he said chuckling.
“Well, save it,” she said curtly. “I don’t care that it’s dangerous. What else can I do, Dad? What can I do, knowing what I know?”
“Be safe,” he said. “Stay out of trouble rather than go out looking for it. I’m not going to tell you that you’re wrong about this, Alex. But I’ve seen a lot of things in my life. Getting involved in this sort of thing—the danger is amplified, and it’s constant. It’s always there, it never goes away.”
“I understand what you’re saying, Dad. I really do.” She looked out the passenger window, and bit her thumb. Then she looked back at him. “But just tell me this: what would you do, if you were in my place? Would you give up and live a normal life?”
He didn’t have to think too hard about that one. “No, I wouldn’t.”
“Well? Why do you expect me to?”
Morgan sighed. She really had him there. There was nothing he could say without sounding like a hypocrite—nothing he could honestly say to change her mind. Maybe that’s what it meant to let them grow up—when you couldn’t lie to them to keep them out of trouble anymore. “You’re going to finish high school. That’s final.”
“If I do, will you teach me how to shoot?”
Morgan thought about it for a second and then said, “Okay.”
“Really?” she asked, beaming.
“Yes. But we keep this just between us, do you understand? I don’t think your mother would approve of this new . . . lifestyle choice. We can tell her later. Do we have a deal?”
“We have a deal,” she said with a big grin on her face.
“All right. That’s enough for today. Let’s get home.”
She opened the passenger door. Before getting out, she turned to him and said, “I love you, Daddy.”
“Love you too, honey. Drive safely.”
CHAPTER 21
New York, January 22
Morgan looked into the window of the Laundromat. He saw Len Stuart sitting inside in one of the chairs, wearing one of those hands-free phone earpieces as he’d been told to. He was staring at a load of laundry tumbling in a dryer a few feet to his right—not quite facing away from the front door as instructed, but close enough. Morgan could still see most of the back of his head, with thinning light hair and an incipient bald spot. He was fidgeting nervously with his hands, turning his head twitchily, like he was expending a lot of effort not to turn around.
Morgan opened the door and immediately felt the dry heat coming off of the machines. Stuart made like he was going to look back, at Morgan, but stopped himself in time. Good boy. Morgan took off his hat and pulled off his gloves. The door behind him swung shut, closing off the sounds of the street. He sat down directly behind Stuart, so that each faced away from each other. In front of him, a middle-aged Latina woman was folding her clothes while a young man in baggy jeans was loading a washer. A young woman and an old man were sitting in separate chairs with their respective baskets. Morgan took out his phone, pretended to dial, and then held it to his ear.