Triggers

Ranjip had a puzzled expression. Susan realized the Canadian wanted to ask Kadeem what had triggered the flashback, but, of course, he couldn’t; asking him that would bring the trigger to mind and might set off another episode. “He did it,” Susan said, pointing at Kadeem. “Deliberately.”

“No,” said Ranjip, shaking his head. “Surely not.”

“He did it,” Susan repeated. “He did that to the president.”

Ranjip looked at Kadeem, as if expecting a denial, but when none was forthcoming, Ranjip said softly, his tone conveying he was stunned by what the young man had done. “Kadeem…”

Susan spoke into her sleeve. “Dawson to Hudkins and Michaelis: come to Prospector’s room right away.” She looked at Kadeem. “You’ve made the mistake of your life,” she said. “This was the stupidest thing you—”

“Agent Dawson.” The voice was weak but oh-so-familiar.

She turned to face Prospector. “Yes, Mr. President?”

“Go…easy…on the…young man,” Jerrison said.

“But, sir, he—”

Jerrison silenced her with a hand gesture and he turned his gaze to Kadeem just as the door opened, revealing the two agents Susan had called for. “Private Adams,” Jerrison said, still weak, “was that…what it was…really like?”

Kadeem nodded once. “Yes, sir, Mr. President. I’m sorry I had to—”

Susan saw the president make the same silencing gesture at Kadeem as he had at her, and Seth Jerrison was a hard man to disobey. “You went through all of that?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. President.” Kadeem paused, then: “And not just me, sir. Lots of us went through it, or something similar.”

Jerrison seemed to consider this for a time, then, at last, he slowly nodded, and, to Susan’s surprise, he said, “Thank you, Private Adams. Thank you…for sharing that with me.”

And then Kadeem Adams surprised Susan. He stood up ramrod straight and crisply saluted his commander in chief. “Thank you, sir.”

Eric Redekop and Janis Falconi exited the building, Eric carefully avoiding the reporters who were camped out front. It was a cold night, and he found himself feeling an urge to put his arm around Jan’s shoulder, but he didn’t. They walked along Pennsylvania Avenue. Things were eerily silent for a Friday night; doubtless, after today’s bomb blast, many people were staying indoors. Eric remembered it had been the same way after 9/11, when an American Airlines 757 had crashed into the Pentagon.

In the first block west of LT, they had a choice between the Foggy Bottom Pub and Capitol Grounds Coffee; thank God the pubs and cafés were keeping their doors open. They opted for the pub and found a booth near the back where they could talk.

“So,” Eric said, after they’d sat down, and “So,” said Janis.

A middle-aged waitress looking worn down by the day’s events took their orders: two draft beers.

“I don’t know how long these linkages will last,” Eric said, “but…”

“Yeah,” said Jan. “But.”

“I…ah, I didn’t know…I don’t mean to pry. Really, I’ve been trying not to, but…”

“But you can’t help it. I know; I keep getting Josh Latimer’s memories, too.”

“At work, sometimes…when you’re alone, you…to…to ease the pain, you…”

She lowered her eyes. “Are you going to report me?”

“No, no. I’d like to see you get help, though. You know there are confidential programs…”

“Thanks.” She paused. “There’s a lot of bad stuff in my life.”

They were seated on opposite sides of the booth; her hands were on the table between them. He found his hand moving over to cover one of hers. “I know.”

Their beers arrived.

“All right,” said Susan, after Kadeem had finished saluting the president. “That’s enough. Private Adams, you’re under arrest.” She’d not only have to lock him up, but also sedate him to make sure he didn’t try something similar again.

To his credit, Kadeem lifted his hands slightly. “Yes, ma’am.”

But the president stirred on his bed. “No.”

“Sir, he assaulted you.”

Jerrison managed some more strength. “I said no, Susan.”

“Sir, we can’t let him debilitate you at will.” She indicated that Kadeem should move toward the closed door.

“No,” said Jerrison again. “Private Adams stays, but I want the rest of you out of here. All of you: Alyssa, Sheila, Susan, Professor Singh, Agent Michaelis, and you, there, the photographer. Out.”

“Sir!” said Susan.

“Do it. And find Maria Ramirez, the pregnant woman, if she hasn’t yet gone home. I want to speak to both of them.”

“But, Mr. President, I—”

“Right away, Agent Dawson.”

Susan nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Seth Jerrison found it odd to be talking with Kadeem Adams. They’d only just met, but he had all the young man’s memories. Normally, Seth didn’t have much patience for people telling him things he already knew, but listening to Kadeem go on about his life in Los Angeles was actually relaxing; as soon as Kadeem started to tell a story, the episode came to Seth’s mind, just as it had come to Kadeem’s, although he doubtless was reconstructing it differently. And so while Kadeem spoke, Seth let his mind concentrate on the problem at hand.