Lewis Babcock threw the brass doors of the Dirksen Federal Building open, the pre-trial hearing dismissed, all charges dropped against Ernie Hayes. The icy wind stabbed sharply at him through his overcoat. But, for some reason, it didn’t bother him as much as it had on the way in, despite the fact that someone overheard in the corridor outside the courtroom had been talking about the temperature having dropped outside and the wind being higher.
Darwin Hughes was standing on the comer, having left the hearing room as soon as the judge had announced dismissal of all charges, Babcock having seen him go but unable to join him, Thelma hugging him so hard. Babcock quickened his pace so he could join Hughes. Thelma had said, “Please. If he’s leaving or something, give him the biggest hug for me.”
“If you’re the Lone Ranger, I guess that makes me Tonto,” Babcock said over the wind, Hughes turning around. “Thelma told me to give you a big hug, but I don’t feel like being arrested on a morals charge.”
“You’re in better spirits, Lewis.”
“I’m in better spirits. I didn’t think it was going to work that well, if at all. We even got that stuff disconnected without the hotel being any the wiser.”
Hughes smiled. “Their carpet will probably start rolling up a little one of these days soon and then they’ll find those switches. But, we’ll be long gone. I’ll make a donation to charity in their name.”
“I think you already did. I would never have thought of that in a million years.”
“Same idea, though. You would have toughed it out and had to go after the cocaine. I just eliminated a few steps.”
“It was good working with you again, Mr. Hughes.”
“I’d like you to keep working with me, Lewis. A lot of people need help. Like your friends Ernie and Thelma. Only in circumstances even more desperate. We both know that. This General Argus has given us the opportunity to change things a little. There’ll be a lot of heartaches in it, Lewis. Jobs we can’t take because there isn’t a solution, jobs we may take and screw up, lives lost. But I really believe we can accomplish something. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have considered it.”
“They’d track us down, Mr. Hughes. We were lucky the first time—all of us except Feinberg. They never got our faces. We start doing this on a regular basis, the inevitability of them learning our identities is unquestionable.”
“That can be fixed, too, Lewis. The question is”—and Hughes smiled that big smile of his that deepened the lines already etched there, made his eyes light up—“are we interested in trying it all again? It’s a great sacrifice. There’s no denying that. But how many men are given the opportunity to really put things right?”
“You really think we could? I mean, really have any effect?”
“I really think we could, Lewis. We did already.”
Lewis Babcock told himself, Hughes is way into his fifties, can’t keep doing this forever. Probably the team would only have a few missions and—if any of them made it through alive—disband. And maybe Hughes was right. He usually was.
Babcock pulled the glove from his right hand, feeling his flesh instantly start to tingle with the cold, extending his hand to Hughes. Hughes pulled off his right glove and took Babcock’s hand. “God help us, it’s a deal,” Babcock told him.
“Yes,” Hughes said almost like a groan. “God help us indeed.”