He pulls himself together and starts to read the little signs next to the b.u.t.tons. He spots Walter, Walter & Walter's sign. Actually, their bra.s.s sign stands out from the rest because their name is longer than the others. He smiles. "Clever, that way they're sure to get noticed."

"Oh, here it is."

He presses the b.u.t.ton and waits for the red plastic circle around it to light up so he's sure it's activated. The woman looks at the b.u.t.ton and the sign for a while and then looks directly at him. She is a cla.s.sic beauty and the low light in the elevator does her face justice. He finally stops looking at his mirror image and looks straight at her. She looks away, puts her key in the lock, and presses the penthouse b.u.t.ton. They drive up in silence. They are both looking down at the floor. When the elevator stops and Nathan steps out, he feels her hand on his arm again.

"It must be an important decision if you're here to see them at this hour. Choose with your heart. It sees better. Good luck."

Another ping sound and she pulls back her hand and smiles as the elevator doors start to close.

"Nathan Wilkins?"

The receptionist is already standing next to him. Nathan looks at her and nods.

"They're waiting for you."

With a movement of her hand, she shows him down the hall.

"Are the witnesses here as well?"

"Yes, I'm one of them."

She smiles shyly.

"I hope that's OK."

She adds, clearly feeling embarra.s.sed. She stops talking and smiles again, but it's obvious to Nathan that her thoughts haven't stopped.

"Of course, all the other necessary people are here as well."

She says quietly. She makes more hand gestures on their way down the hall, guiding him to the door at the end.

"I'll be the one doing the writing, so I'll just get my laptop. That way we can work simultaneously and print directly. I hope that works for you?"

"That sounds just fine. Thank you for staying this late."

She reacts almost as if he had punched her. Nathan holds his breath. The woman in the elevator had touched something inside him and activated something that suddenly felt natural to him. There's a touch of insecurity about the young woman walking next to him. Maybe this is her first job. And, if he guessed it right, being praised or thanked was not something she was used to in this office. She stops and knocks at the door of one of the corner offices. Then she cautiously sticks her head inside before opening the door and showing Nathan in. For a moment, he looks down at the pale green carpet, pulling himself together. Then he looks up, smiles, and walks in with his hand out.

"Thank you for waiting. I really appreciate it. And I'm very sorry I'm late."

His voice reflects his profession and his experience, which makes the young girl give him an admiring look. He keeps up his routine and continues.

"I have chosen you because your reputation is unblemished, and this matter requires a firm that will follow the law and my wishes to the letter."

The young girl closes the door and hurries down the hall to get her laptop. Her face is beaming.

"Maybe this case will be the one that starts my career."

She whispers while straightening her pencil skirt.

Chapter 11.

"Where are all the cabs?"

Eric pulls up his collar as he looks around, confused. He stays put, feeling how restless his body is. "If only James hadn't seen me." He walks back and forth in front of the door a couple of times before stopping. "Stuart I knew. But I don't know James, and I don't know what he's capable of." Eric looks up so the rain hits him in the face, and it's as if his worries disappear one by one. He feels how the rain gets worse for a while before dying down to a light drizzle. Finally, after a long time, a cab drives by and the driver looks at him with disapproval. The water is dripping from him and he feels uncomfortable in his drenched clothes. The driver looks at him in the mirror.

"Where to?"

The driver's voice is a little thick.

"Ah. Just drive downtown. I'll guide you."

The driver gives a tired shrug.

"Whatever you say."

Eric asks the driver to turn several times and each time he looks out the rear window. After a while, the driver gives up trying to follow Eric's way of thinking and just obeys his orders. After nearly an hour, Eric is convinced no one is following them.

"Please stop at the corner over there."

The driver nods and pulls up at the curb. Eric looks at the meter and gives him a good tip. The driver nods and Eric is back in the rain which is getting worse again. He waits until the cab is gone. Then he starts to walk back in the direction they came from. The streets are empty, and he feels the rain running down his neck and down his back. He stops outside his front door. He can't see the doorman anywhere. Eric turns around one last time and looks back. The street is empty. He locks himself into the building and into his apartment. Without turning on the lights, he goes straight through the living room, takes the half empty vodka bottle, and puts it under his arm. Then he continues to the bathroom and picks up the gla.s.s of sleeping pills. When he closes the door of the small medicine cabinet, he catches a glimpse of himself. The bald spot on his head is clear against his dark, wet hair. It hurts his vanity. The dark rings around his eyes, his face that looks thin and unhealthy just as the investigator at the hospital had pointed out. He turns around and slams the bathroom door shut behind him. But the noise it makes and the power he uses doesn't help him get rid of the feeling that's eating him up. He takes off all of his clothes and drops them on the floor. Naked, he crawls under the covers and gathers the pillows behind him so he can sit up in the bed. Then he picks up the remote and switches on the TV. He sighs, feeling content as the sound of the TV finally drowns out the noise from the rain outside. He shuts out the world and loses himself in a sitcom about two men and a baby. When he has calmed down a little, he opens the vodka bottle and drinks directly from it. His throat burns as the vodka makes its way down and he makes a face when it hits his stomach. "Ah, I should've eaten something on the way home." He pushes his thoughts away and puts the bottle to his mouth again. He sees Evy's face before him, and the small muscles around his mouth twitch. Annoyed, he throws his arm out and the vodka sloshes around in the bottle.

"d.a.m.n it! I have to grow up and be a man... a man who takes action and isn't scared."

After shouting at himself, he drinks from the vodka bottle and almost empties it. He sits in the bed, staring at the TV with empty eyes.

"Maybe it's time now..."

His voice is getting blurred from the vodka.

"...that I do something."

He looks at the gla.s.s of pills. Then he picks it up and holds it in his hand for a while.

"It's time I call the shots. James has more to lose than me."

He opens the gla.s.s and takes out a pill, then he takes another one and almost throws them into his mouth and drinks the rest of the vodka. He stays there, holding the bottle in his hands as it rests in his lap. After a while he looks at it with surprise, dazed from the drinking.

"Oh, well, you were almost empty when we started."

His voice is almost a whisper and he slowly blinks his eyes.

"Or maybe not. Anyway, dear James. Now it's your turn to be at the other end of the leash. Now I will be the one in charge."

He smacks his lips and tries to focus on the TV. His eyes slowly close and his breathing becomes slow and deep.

Chapter 12.

The night and most of the morning had pa.s.sed. Marc rests his head in his hands, gets up and looks out the window as he slowly puts on his suede jacket and leaves the room.

"Would you like a cup of coffee? It's fresh."

Marc tries to smile, but it's impossible, so he just nods.

"Here, come and sit down a little."

The nurse is down the hall, standing next to some wooden chairs that look really uncomfortable. When he sits down, she hands him a cup of coffee.

"Take some time before you leave. It's an overwhelming experience."

He sips the hot coffee. It's bitter and a little sticky from all the sugar in it.

"How do you feel?"

He is surprised when he looks up and recognizes the nurse from the night before. Now she has dark rings under her eyes.

"I feel strangely empty inside. I don't know how to explain it."

The nurse nods.

"When did it happen?"

Marc is confused and looks at her.

"I don't really know... Strange, I normally have a good sense of time."

He looks into his coffee and stirs it, even though the last thing he wants is to dissolve more sugar.

"It's weird... It's not that I didn't know it would happen, but still it was so sudden."

"And then, how can I call it sudden. She's been ill for a long time, and you told me there was nothing you could do."

He looks at her face and stops talking. Then he looks down at his worn suede shoes that are no longer the same color as they used to be. After a long time, he looks up at her again.

"I'm ashamed to say it, but I'm actually relieved."

He swallows.

"I really do. For the last couple of months, I've known that it could happen any time, but still I was surprised when it happened last night. Somehow, I expected everything to just go on as usual, and that she would be back in her flat in a couple of weeks."

"Death always comes as a surprise even when you're expecting it."

"Is it always like that?"

She nods and takes the cup from him. The coffee has gone cold.

"Go home and get some sleep. You've been up all night."

He nods and gets up slowly.

"What do you do now, in a situation like this? I mean..."

He sighs and goes on.

"There's all the practical stuff."

The nurse smiles and then she gently shakes her head.

"Your mother has taken care of all that. I had a talk with her when she came in a couple of weeks ago. I'll show you."

She quickly walks into the room again.

"I cared about your mother a great deal. As much as one can in a situation like this."

Her voice fades and she opens a cupboard.

"I know she was prepared for this. She hadn't forgotten what it was like when she lost her own parents, and she didn't want you to have the same practical difficulties."

She's back next to him.

"Here you go."

She takes his hands and places a stack of papers in them.

"I knew she kept them in her closet. She asked me to give them to you when it happened. She has taken care of everything."

She leans over a little and flicks through the papers he's holding.

"Here."

She pulls out a piece of paper. He's gasping for breath.

"Yes, your mother wrote everything by hand. It's probably not easy for you to read her handwriting."

She pads his right arm softly.

"Call him."