"No, Palakon," I say. "You know him."
"Mr. Ward, what are you talking about?"
"Palakon," I shout. "I saw you in a videotape shaking Bobby Hughes' hand, you f**king bastard, I saw you shake that ass**le's hand. Don't tell me you don't know him."
Palakon flinches. "Mr. Ward, I'm not sure what you're talking about. But I have never met Bobby Hughes face-to-face."
"You're lying, you're f**king lying," I shout. "Why are you lying, Palakon? I saw a videotape. You were shaking his hand." I'm out of the chair again, stomping toward him.
Palakon swallows grimly, then launches into, "Mr. Ward, as you well know, they are quite sophisticated at altering photographs and videotapes." Palakon stops, starts again. "What you probably saw was just a movie. A special effect. just a strip of film that was digitally altered. Why they showed this to you I don't know. But I have never met Bobby Hughes before-"
"Blah blah blah," I'm screaming. "What a load of shit. No way, man." There's so much adrenaline rushing through me that I'm shaking violently.
"Mr. Ward, I think you have been a victim of this as well," Palakon adds.
"So you're telling me we can't believe anything we're shown any more?" I'm asking. "That everything is altered? That everything's a lie? That everyone will believe this?"
"That's a fact," Palakon says.
"So what's true, then?" I cry out.
"Nothing, Victor," Palakon says. "There are different truths."
"Then what happens to us?"
"We change." He shrugs. "We adapt."
"To what? Better? Worse?"
"I'm not sure those terms are applicable anymore."
"Why not?" I shout. "Why aren't they?"
"Because no one cares about 'better.' No one cares about 'worse,"' Palakon says. "Not anymore. It's different now."
Someone clears his throat as tears pour down my face.
"Mr. Ward, please, you've helped us enormously," Crater says.
"How?" I sob.
"Because of that printout you gave to Palakon, we believe that Bobby Hughes is using the Remform in a bombing this week," Crater explains. "A bombing that we now have the power to stop."
I mumble something, looking away.
"We think this has to do with a bombing scheduled for Friday," Palakon says matter-of-factly. "That date is November 15. We think '1985' is actually a misprint. We think the 8 is actually an O."
"Why?"
"We think 1985 is actually 1905," Crater says. "In military parlance that's 7:05 p.m."
"Yeah?" I mutter. "So?"
"There's a TWA flight leaving Charles de Gaulle this Friday, November 15, at 7:05," Palakon says.
"So what?" I'm asking. "Aren't there a lot of flights leaving on that date, near that time?"
"Its flight number is 511," Palakon says.
9
I'm told to stay calm.
I'm told they will contact me tomorrow.
I'm told to return to the house in the 8th or the 16th and pretend nothing has happened.
I'm told that I can be placed, eventually, in a witness protection program. (I'm told this after I have collapsed on the floor, sobbing hysterically.)
I'm told again to stay calm.
On the verge of trust, I realize that the inspector from Interpol is the actor who played the clerk at the security office on the QE2.
I'm told, "We'll be in touch, Mr. Ward."
I'm told, "You'll be watched."
"I know," I say hollowly.
Since I have no more Xanax left and it's starting to rain I head over to Hotel Costes, where I wait in the cafe pretending to be pensive, drinking tea, smoking Camel Lights out of a pack someone left discarded at the table next to mine, until Chloe walks in with a famous ballerina, a well-known former junkie just out of rehab and Aphex Twin, and they all start chatting pleasantly with Griffin Dunne, who's standing at the front desk, and then everyone but Chloe walks away and in a trance I move forward while she checks her messages and I grab her, embracing her fearfully while glancing around the hushed lobby and then I'm kissing her lips, entering her life again, and we're both crying. The concierge turns his head away.
I start relaxing but a film crew has followed Chloe into the lobby and a camera starts panning around us and we're asked to "do that" once more. Someone yells "Action." Someone yells "Cut." I stop crying and we do it again.