17. Elias
Chapter seventeen
Elias
Nolan did his floor work by the recliner with Boston's top line running silent on the big screen. I sat on the sofa with a cup of coffee going cold. We'd reached an arrangement since Nolan discovered the folder—case talk, logistics, and politeness with occasional texture.
He told me most things, while I told him everything. What we didn't do was cross the physical gap between us.
Outside, blue lights burned in windows up and down the block, and the cathedral bells rang the nine p.m. hour. We had two more nights before Game Seven.
"Jamie asked me at free skate today what overtime in a Game Seven feels like," Nolan said from the floor, working the roller down the outside of his thigh. "I told him nobody knows. Anybody who's played one blacked it out."
"Is that true?"
"Mostly." He switched sides, the good hip taking the work. "Wes played a Game Seven of a Cup Final in his rookie season, the year before he landed in St. Louis."
"Does he remember it?"
Nolan laughed. "He said he's lost almost the entire day. He remembers hoisting the Cup with the rest of the team, but that's about it."
I could have sat there all night watching him, the way I had since the day we met. I didn't say so. It would risk closing the gap and complicate the last nights before the biggest game of Nolan's life.
At ten he rolled the mat and gathered himself off the floor. He said goodnight from the hall, and his bedroom door clicked shut.
I looked at my phone. I'd run out of time and excuses.
After taking a deep breath, I called Mac. He'd given me his personal cell number for emergencies. This wasn't life or death, but it was something other than a daily report.
"Ward. Something wrong?"
"Not exactly, but I need ten minutes, and this isn't about Nolan. I mean, it is, but it's not exactly work. It's a disclosure."
A chair creaked, and I heard a door close. "Go."
I gave it to him complete and in order. I did my best to give the version I'd have demanded from anyone who worked for me. No preamble and no framing.
"It's about a policy. I've—there's an attachment to the principal. To Nolan. It's not one-sided. It's a relationship."
I realized I was speaking for Nolan and making assumptions, but I made myself keep going.
"It should've been disclosed over a week ago. That's when I stopped being able to say it wasn't affecting the work. There've been two—my attention split during live coverage, twice, and I logged both. I told myself logging them was the same as reporting to you, but I know it wasn't."
I stopped and took a breath.
"The protection's held. The investigation's moved. I'm not offering that as cover. It's just true."
Silence on his end.
"I wrote it all out once," I said. "It was on a flight back from Boston. Then I deleted it and told myself I needed to say it face to face. That would delay until after the Cup Final." I let that sit. "I manufactured the need. I just didn't want to send it."
When Mac spoke, I heard no emotion in his voice. He didn't sound angry. It might have been easier if he had been.
"Walk me through why you sat on it."
"Because reporting it meant having this conversation," I said. "And I knew how this conversation could end."
"Reassignment."
"Yes."
"Have you done the math on reassignment?"
"Mid-series, new operator, and no rapport. Nolan's a principal who has had multiple bodyguards, but he rarely trusts them. He told me that." I stopped. "There's something else."
"More?" he asked.
"Yeah." I started into the hardest part.
"A few nights ago, Nolan opened my work bag looking for a phone charger.
He found the engagement folder in the side pocket and read the summary page, seeing that he's an investigation subject, not just a security principal.
" I stood and walked to the window. "He knows everything now: Halloran, Hawkins, and Tierney.
I briefed him in full. I know that's a massive violation without discussing it with you first. The cover's blown, and this is the first time you're hearing about it. "
The tone of his voice didn't change. "Here's what's not going to happen tonight," he said. "I'm not pulling you at midnight two nights before a Game Seven with an active threat on the principal. That's not absolving you of anything, Elias. It's logistics."
"Understood."
"When this is all over, you are going to have a long conversation with Eamon and me. You probably won't like any of that."
"I understand that, too."
"Is the relationship holding after the cover's blown?"
I glanced down the dark hall at the closed door.
"I'll be honest about it. I don't know," I said. "He talks to me about the case, but the rest of it isn't clear."
"Okay." I heard rustling papers. "For the record, the disclosure and the operational breach are now officially logged.
Eamon will read about it, and I'll answer questions to the best of my ability.
It's a hit, but you'll take it standing up, because that's the kind of operator you've been until now. "
"That's fair."
"And accurate." His voice eased slightly. "You told me your head was fine three times this month."
"I know."
"We'll get back to that with us in the same room with Eamon.
Right now you're going to do something harder than the disclosure.
Tierney's dead and the timing stinks. It looks like somebody's converting names into bodies.
That means you need to tell me about your St. Louis assignment.
Go through a list of everyone you've talked to since you landed, every single name.
Tell me what they gave you and what you gave them.
Don't clean it up. This is only useful if it's ugly. "
I paused.
"Start talking," Mac said.
"Doyle," I said. "Head of Steamers security. He has the protective plan and nothing else. He doesn't know the league retained us, and I haven't spoken with him about Halloran. He's never heard the word Tarn from me."
"Clean. Next."
"Kate Halloran. I talked to her twice. She gave me information. I didn't tell her anything she didn't already know through her father."
"Next."
"The league counsel channel. They have Halloran and Tarn. Tierney's name never went to them. Michael can confirm."
"He already has. Next."
"Reisner." I watched as drops of rain started falling against the living room windows.
"I spent the evening with him at the Tarn event.
He knows I'm close security for a hockey player.
Half the people in the room knew that from the local news.
He offered me a tour of their St. Louis clinic.
I gave him shop talk from my teaching days. "
"Did he ask specifically about Mercer?"
"Once. He asked, 'How's yours holding up.' I said fine."
"Good answer. Next."
"Tierney. We had two calls, and they are both logged."
"Who's Frey to you?"
I didn't know where he got the name, but it wouldn't be hard for Michael to dig it out of Tarn records.
"Colin Frey," I said. "He ran my tour of the local Tarn facility. Since then, we've met in a hotel bar, a diner in Boston, and we've chatted on four or five calls."
"What did he give you?"
"The Carolina contract. He found it and shared before Michael verified it. He told me the project was about suppression, not enhancement. Thene he offered to share anything I need that he can put his hands on."
"And what did you give him?"
That was the question I didn't want to answer, but I couldn't lie. I explained what I remembered without cleaning it up.
"Mercer's daily maintenance program. I told Frey that it exists, and that it's the best I've ever seen. I used the word 'disciplined.' He's up every morning before five, and I shared that with Frey."
Every item sounded harmless at the moment. None of it sounded harmless now. "And Tierney. He offered to put a feeler out to other old technicians. I gave him the name. He asked me to spell it." I paused. "I spelled it out for him, Mac, letter by letter."
Mac didn't fill the silence. I kept going because there was one more item.
"I may have told him something else," I said.
"This is the one I honestly can't confirm or reject.
Nolan walks in Forest Park some mornings, early, in the wooded part on the west side.
It helps on days when the hip's bad. I don't know whether I mentioned that when I told Frey about Nolan's maintenance program. "
"That's worse than remembering you did share it."
"Yes."
I heard Mac breathe deeply. "I'm going to tell you what I see, and you're not going to like it. Then I'm going to give you your orders."
"I'm ready."
"What I see is a source who arrived credentialed and friendly.
He fed you real, verifiable material on a schedule, and he took payment in your answers to his questions.
Frey didn't get past your guard, Elias. He placed himself somewhere beyond it.
Somebody studied what you were likely to trust and delivered precisely that. "
"That makes it sound bad."
"It wasn't good."
"What are my orders?"
"Change nothing toward Frey. Don't vary your tone or response time.
If he calls, you're the same tired man doing two jobs.
Do not confront him. Michael will start documenting from our end tonight.
He will pull out the employment records, phones, and financials.
You're not solving the Frey problem. Your entire job is Nolan, and now you're going to be honest with me about whether you can still do it. "
"I can do it."
"How's your head, Elias?"
I knew that question was coming.
"Bad," I said.
"Okay," Mac said. "Now I believe you. Go stand your post."
I was still at the island, notebook open in front of me, when the hall floor creaked.
Nolan came out of his bedroom in a t-shirt and sweatpants, moving carefully on the way to the bathroom. He stopped when he saw me.
"It's almost one."
"I know."
Under the new arrangement, I had to share.