The Mark of the Assassin

seen them at the dinner
    party after Beckwith made the announcement. My God, I thought they were
    going to kiss each other."
    The expressway ended, and they passed through the town of Riverhead.
    Michael headed north along a two-lane country road bordered by immense
    fields of sod and potatoes. A full wet moon dangled low in the eastern
    sky. They turned onto Route 25 and raced eastward across the North Fork.
    Now and again the trees broke, and Long Island Sound shone black in the
    moonlight. Elizabeth lit a cigarette and cracked the window. It was a
    signal that she was nervous or angry or unhappy. Elizabeth spent all her
    energy dissembling at work all day. When she was at home or surrounded
    by friends, she was pathologically incapable of concealing her emotions.
    When she was happy, her eyes flashed and her mouth curled into a
    permanent smile. When she was upset, she stalked and snapped and
    frowned. Elizabeth never smoked when she was happy. "Tell me what's
    wrong."
    "You know what's wrong."
    "I know. I just thought you might want to say it out loud."
    "All right, I'm nervous as hell this isn't going to work and that I'm
    never going to be able to have a baby for us. There, I said it. And you
    know what? I still feel like shit."
    "I wish I could do something."
    She reached out and took his hand. "Just be there for me, Michael. The
    one thing you can do for me is to stay at my side throughout this thing.
    I need you there in case it doesn't work. I need you to tell me it's all
    right and you'll still love me forever."
    Her voice choked. He squeezed her hand and said, "I'll love you forever,
    Elizabeth."
    He felt helpless. It was an alien sensation, and he didn't like it. By
    nature and training he was suited to identifying problems and solving
    them. Now he could do very little. His physical contribution would take
    place in a small dark room in a matter of minutes. After that he could
    be supportive and attentive and caring, but Elizabeth and her body would
    have to do the rest. He wanted to do more. He had asked Carter to be
    allowed to work out of the New York Station and to shorten his hours.
    Carter had agreed. Personnel was on the backs of all chiefs and
    supervisors about raising the Agency's dismal morale. Carter groused
    that the Agency should change its motto from "and ye shall know the
    truth, and the truth shall make you free" to "people caring about
    people."
    "I'm going to tell you one other thing, Michael. I'm not going to get
    crazy about this. I'm going to try it once. If it doesn't work, I'm
    going to give up, and we're going to move on with our lives. Do I have
    your support on that?"
    "One hundred percent."
    "Susanna and Jack tried four times. It cost them fifty thousand dollars,
    and it made her crazy." She hesitated. "She's convinced Jack left her
    because she couldn't give him children. He's crazy about that shit. He
    wants a son to carry on the family name. He thinks he's an ancient
    king."
    "I think it's fortunate she didn't have a child. Jack would have left
    her anyway, and she'd be a single working mother."
    "What do you know that I don't know?"
    "I know he was never happy, and he wanted out of the marriage for a long
    time."
    "I didn't know you boys were so close."
    "I can't stand the son-of-a-bitch. But he drinks, and he talks. And I'm
    a good listener. I'm trained to be a good listener. It's made me the
    victim of quite a few crashing bores in my day."
    "I love her to death. She deserves to be happy. I hope she finds someone
    soon."
    "She will."
    "It's not as easy as it sounds. Look how long it took me to find you.
    Know any good single men?"
    All the single men I know are spies."
    "Case officers, Michael. They're called case officers."
    "Sorry, Elizabeth."
    "You're right. The last thing I want Susanna to do is marry a fucking
    spook."
    Michael drove onto the ferry with five minutes to spare. It was windy
    and bitterly cold. The ferry bucked across the choppy waters of
    Gardiners Bay. Spray broke over the prow, washing over the windshield of
    the rental car. Michael got out and leaned against the rail in the
    frigid November night air. Across the water, on the shore of the island,
    he could see the Cannons' fioodlit white mansion. The senator loved to
    leave the lights on when they were coming. Michael imagined bringing
    children on the ferry. He imagined spending summers with them on the
    island. He wanted children too--as much if not more than Elizabeth. He
    kept these feelings