“Penance . . . atonement.”
“Atonement for what?”
“My sins.”
McNeal thought his words sounded genuine. But then again, some people were very good at appearing to sound sincere and genuine. Like psychopaths.
“My mortal sins.”
McNeal waited for Graff to make his point.
“I don’t want to kill you. I thought I did. But I don’t.”
“What changed?”
“I thought I could trust someone. A woman. Turns out my trust was misplaced. I’ve been played. And I can see it all as clear as day. I don’t have long before they come for me.”
“Who’s ‘they’？”
Graff shook his head.
“I said, who’s ‘they’？”
“The powers that be. Forces at work which can devour people. Shadowy forces. I’m talking deep state.”
“Weren’t you part of the deep state?”
“I was part of it. But no one ever gets out of such operations unscathed. Psychologically. And eventually physically. There is no escape. I realize that now.”
“Did you have a part in my wife’s death?”
“I organized your wife’s death. And my wife’s death. For that, I’m sorry.”
McNeal’s body tensed. It was as if Graff wanted to be shot in cold blood.
“You have every reason to want to kill me. And I wouldn’t blame you if you did. But this goes way beyond just me.”
“Did you kill my wife?”
“I had people kill your wife.”
McNeal let a black anger stir within him. “How was she killed?”
“She was drugged. And then she was placed in the Potomac.”
McNeal pressed the gun tight up against Graff’s forehead, which was slick with sweat.
“Go ahead, do it!” Graff barked. “Why don’t you?”
“I want to know more.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Why did you kill your wife? Did you give the order?”
“I gave the final go-ahead. My wife . . . my late wife often laughed at me. Flaunted her affairs. Talked about who she was having sex with, who she wanted to have sex with. She fucked pop stars. Movie stars. Businessmen. Businesswomen. Black. White. Made no difference. She fucked them all. And she fucked politicians. People with influence on Capitol Hill.”
McNeal pressed the gun tighter to Graff’s head.
“I worried I was going to be humiliated in the eyes of the world. She taunted me. She said she was going to tell the world what she was like. What I was like.”
McNeal clenched his teeth, venom coursing through his veins.
“My wife knew secrets. About me. About my world.”
“What kind of secrets?”
“The shadowy world in which I operate. The politicians who contract me. She tried to blackmail politicians. She took pictures of herself with these men. And she left them on our kitchen table. Our children saw them. The nannies saw them. She was shameless.”
“So, she deserved to die?”
Graff sighed. “Yes, she did.”
“For her behavior? Her treachery?”
“One of my tasks, what my company does, is to safeguard this nation and its secrets. I’ve abided by that principle, always. Don’t you get it? It’s about safeguarding this great nation of ours. And the men who lead us.”
“No matter the cost?”
“No matter the cost. Precisely.”
“Why are you telling me all this?”
“I’m sacrificing myself. So you know. Before you kill me.”
McNeal’s hand tightened on his gun.
“I know you want to kill me, Jack. I’d want to do the same thing. You know what I see when I look into your eyes?”
“What?”
“I see a man with his own secrets and ghosts from your past never far from the surface.”
McNeal was taken aback for a few moments. “Don’t play mind games with me; you’re so full of shit. You don’t know the first thing about me.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I know everything there is to know about Jack McNeal. Staten Island, old-school cop father; wife the supersmart political journalist who probably outgrew you, if you’re honest with yourself. And your dead son.”
McNeal pressed the Glock tight to the fleshy part of Graff’s forehead.
“I know what happened at the party. The stray bullet ricochet. Your son died. I wouldn’t have been able to hold the line like you have for so long. I wouldn’t have been able to deal with that pain.”