Day Ten (Thursday)

Robert was still in his pajamas when his son called the next morning. "Did I wake you?" Scott apologized.

"No," McCall grumbled. "The sun's nearly up, isn't it?"

Scott chuckled uncertainly. "The girls will be there in an hour."

"The girls?"

"Becky and Lily." Scott paused. "I kinda thought Lily had better be there. With Mom. You know."

"I know," Robert agreed. He turned it over in his head. Kay did not care for Miss Romanov, at all. She was no doubt still under the illusion that Robert was having an affair with her. He really ought to settle that matter. But a bit of antagonism would keep Kay distracted from completely taking over – and perhaps off Becky's back as well. Lily, he was certain, could take whatever unpleasantness his ex-wife decided to dish out.

Lily, truth to tell, would probably relish it.

"All right," he said. "I knew that. Why are you calling?"

"I'm on my way to rehearsal. But, uh, I need to ask you something."

"Yes?" Robert leaned and examined his coffee maker. It was still dripping.

"We asked Mickey to be our best man, and he said yes, but we asked Lily and she said no."

"Hmm."

"And so we were thinking … uh … we might ask Yvette."

Robert blinked. "Your sister Yvette?"

"Uh-huh," Scott answered carefully. "And then I thought, Lily thought, maybe before I did that …"

"Yes."

" … I'd better see if Mom knew about her. Or … what."

Robert rubbed his eyes. "I haven't had my coffee yet, Scott."

"She doesn't know."

"No."

"If you don't want to tell her, we could ask somebody else. But I'd really like it if Yvette could come to the wedding." The boy took a breath. "Mom wouldn't have to know who she was."

"No, Scott. I am not going to deny my daughter for the sake of your mother's … comfort. I will tell her."

"She's gonna go crazy, Dad."

"Perhaps." Robert rested his head against the cool hard cabinet. Perhaps, nothing. Scott was right; Kay would be livid. "I'll handle it. But ask Becky not to say anything until I have. Perhaps this evening. All right?"

"You got it. Thanks, Dad."

"Uh-huh."

McCall put down the phone softly. Then, not gently, he banged his head against the cupboard. At least if he was going to have a headache he wanted a good excuse for it.

Kay planted herself on the couch and began sewing tiny buttons back on the dress. "Is there any more coffee?"

"I'll get it," Robert offered. He took her cup and refilled it.

"Over there," she warned. "Away from the dress. You don't have cream?"

McCall sighed very softly and took the coffee back. "No sugar?"

"No."

"Mmm."

"She's late."

"She'll be here." He returned the properly prepared coffee, and put it on the side table, safely away from the wedding dress.

"Do you think I pressured her into this?" Kay asked.

"What?" The whole damn wedding? Robert wondered. Yes. Yes, you did.

"Wearing my dress. I didn't mean to, honestly."

You brought it down from your attic and hauled it all the way here, Robert mused. Again, he bit it back. "I think she looks lovely in it."

"She does, doesn't she?"

"Yes."

"It will have to go to the cleaner's."

"Of course."

"A good one."

"Of course."

"Robert, are you mocking me?"

"No." McCall returned to his kitchen. "Of course not."

"You're going to see about a hotel for the reception?"

"Yes."

"Today?"

"Yes!"

"There's no need to snarl, Robert. But we can't get the invitations ordered until we know where the reception will be. And we need to get that done right away."

"Yes, dear."

"Robert, if you're going to have an attitude about all of this …"

There was a confident knock on the door.

"Thank God," Robert breathed. Never mind keeping his ex off Becky's back, Lily could damn well keep her off his.

His best friend's lover wore jeans a size too tight, a shirt unbuttoned one button too far, and her customary breezy confidence. She had never looked better to Robert. "I brought a board," she announced.

He looked at her quizzically. She had a large, flat package under her arm. "A board?"

"A white board."

"Oh." He still had no idea what she was talking about. "Good. Come in, come in."

Kay took one look at her and said, "Oh."

"Good morning," Lily said with abrasive cheerfulness.

"Hello."

Becky trailed her in. "Mrs. Wesley, this is our friend, Lily Romanov …"

"We've met," Kay said coolly.

"Nice to see you again," Lily said brightly. "I brought a white board. Dry-erase, you know? It helps me to visualize, to see everything written out."

"I see … what?"

If Becky noticed the tension between the two women, she ignored it beautifully. "Lily's going to help us with the wedding."

"Ohhhh."

"Do you want this in the study?" Lily asked Robert, hefting the board again. "Otherwise we'll be taking up your whole living room."

"Uh, yes. Study. Yes. I'll take it."

He carried the surprisingly heavy board to his study and slid it out of the box. It had its own built-in stand, and he snapped it together and propped it on the desk.

The women had followed him. Lily produced a pack of markers, assorted colors, and arranged them in front of the board. "We can color-code things. That will help. Either by assignment or by category." She looked to Robert. "Is there coffee?"

"I'll get you some."

"I can get it."

"No, you go ahead." He was glad for the excuse to escape. "Black, right?"

"Yes, please. I drink my coffee like a grown-up."

Kay nearly hissed. "I don't know that we really need all this. It seems to me that we'll spend more time organizing than getting things done."

"I'll organize," Lily said sensibly, "you get things done."

Kay looked to Robert for help. He wouldn't meet her eyes. Instead, he took Lily by the arm. "Can I speak to you for a moment, please?"

"Sure." She let him lead her back to the living room.

They stood very close together, speaking softly, and Robert could feel Kay's eyes burning into his back. "You're sure you have time for all this?" he asked Lily.

"I'm sure." He looked at her skeptically. "I'm on vacation and my boyfriend's stuck in the office. I've got nothing better to do. And this is what I'm good at."

"I know it is. It surprises me that you could get vacation at a time like this."

She looked away. "Yes, well."

That was, Robert realized, all the answer he was going to get. He wondered if his friend had somehow connived to pull his lover out of the field for the coming conflict. Control had discussed his desire to do just that on a number of occasions. But if he had, McCall couldn't learn about it from the woman. "All right. But if this gets to be too much …"

"I'll let you know."

"I do appreciate your efforts. I want you to know that."

"Thank you."

"Your being involved in this process may make a world of difference to someone that I've very fond of."

"Your ex?" Lily asked cheekily.

"No. Not my ex." He shook his head. "Very well. If you're determined be involved in this debacle, I'd like you to have these."

Robert moved even closer, so that their bodies masked his actions from Kay's sight. He brought from his pocket a thin leather wallet and opened it. Inside were two credit cards and half a dozen blank checks, bearing his signature.

"Oooh, for me?" Lily purred.

"For you. I don't mind spending money on this wedding, where necessary," Robert said. "I want it to be nice. But Kay will go completely amok."

She half-turned and slipped the wallet into her back pocket. "You know, it's fairly sad that you trust me with your money more than you do your ex-wife."

"Talk to Jimmy. Like him, I trust almost everyone with my money more than I trust my ex-wife."

Lily laughed out loud. Then she kissed him tenderly, and rather lingeringly, on the cheek, and returned to the study.

She picked up a marker and drew grids on the board. "Shall we break it down by day?"

"I think we'd do better with the grids going the other way," Kay protested. "That would give us slender boxes to make lists up and down."

"We could make lists with two columns this way," Lily argued.

"But up and down would be more attractive and easier to read."

"I'm going out," Robert announced to no one in particular. No one paid the slightest attention. Gratefully, he slipped out into the relative calm of the city.

"Jimmy!" Robert said heartily. "I didn't think you'd be in town."

"Yeah. On vacation. Glad you called, McCall. I was getting a little cabin-kooky."

McCall raised one eyebrow. Another one, on vacation. And from what Scott had said, Kostmayer was hanging around also. "Well, good. I've got a bit of a quest for you, if you're up for it."

"About the wedding?"

"You know about the wedding?"

Jimmy frowned at him. "'Course I know about the wedding. Everybody knows about the wedding. I'm invited, aren't I?"

"I, uh, of course." Robert winced inwardly. Everybody knew about it? The guest list had just increased exponentially. Then he shrugged. Well, why not? Kay's friends would all be there, why shouldn't his? It was his tab, after all. "As soon as we get the invitations back from the printers, I'll bring you one personally."

"Appreciate it. So what do you need?"

"A site for the reception."

Jimmy's eyes narrowed. "A week from Saturday."

"Yes."

"Why not use Pete's place?"

"Why, indeed?" Robert mused aloud. "The ex," he explained.

"Oh. Yeah." Jimmy nodded. He understood completely. "My first wife …"

"Jimmy."

"Yeah, yeah, McCall. Okay. How many people?"

"I … have no idea. A hundred, perhaps."

"Uh-huh. Dinner?"

"Yes."

"Somewhere swanky."

"Yes."

"Ain't gonna be easy, McCall."

"I know. I do know. Do what you can, give me a call by the end of the day."

"No promises."

"I understand."

As he watched his friend move away, all lanky knees and elbows, Robert shook his head. A hundred people? That was optimistic, and he knew it. If Kay had her way …

…and sometime today he had to tell her about Yvette.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, felt the bright sun on his face. There was no way around it. She had to be told. Should have been told when he first found out. Yes. She had to be told.

But the sun was bright and the breeze was cool, and at this instant he was out in his city. Telling her would wait.

"You must have some family, somewhere," Kay repeated accusingly.

"I don't," Becky protested weakly. "I have friends I'd like to invite, but no family."

"Even if they won't come, if they're across the country, the polite thing is to invite them."

"I don't have any family," Becky insisted.

Kay threw her hands up. "This is just ridiculous. Are you an orphan?"

The girl hesitated. "Y-yes."

"So am I," Lily contributed brightly.

Kay glared at her, then turned back to the bride-to-be. "No cousins, no aunts or uncles, no brothers or sisters? Nothing at all?"

"No," Becky answered, and this time there were tears in her voice.

"Kay," Lily said quietly, firmly, "she doesn't have any family to invite. Let's continue."

"I just find it very unusual."

"I-I'm sorry."

Kay rubbed her eyes. "Well, all right. But I still find it very strange." She straightened. "You're sure this is all of the friends, then? No other musical types are going to show up uninvited?"

"They probably will," Becky said mournfully.

"Yes, they probably will," Kay agreed. "Perhaps we should have security at the door, invitation only, that sort of thing." She looked pointedly at Lily. "You could arrange that, I'm sure."

"Of course," Lily answered. "If Scott and Becky want to make sure none of their friends can just casually stop in at their wedding reception."

Kay sighed loudly. "This is just impossible. Just impossible."

Romanov caught the younger woman's eye and winked. Against her will, Becky almost smiled.

"Hey, McCall," Sterno said around the last of a chili dog, "where you been?"

"Running errands," Robert said ruefully.

"The ex is running your legs off, isn't she?"

"My legs and my checkbook, Sterno. Let me guess. You're on vacation."

"Something like that."

"I have an assignment for you, if you have the time."

"I'm all ears, McCall."

Robert smiled. "I need you to find the best wedding cake in the city. I'll cover your expenses for the search."

Sterno looked at him, licked the last of the chili from his upper lip. "You serious?"

"I'm serious. I need it to feed a hundred, maybe more, and I need it a week from this Saturday. Can you find it?"

"Are you kidding? I'll search every bakery in this city until I do."

"I knew I could count on you, Sterno."

"I'm your man, McCall."

The little man behind the counter looked at the three women impatiently. "You leave the dress or not?" he demanded, his voice thick with an oriental accent.

"You understand," Kay said clearly, "we absolutely must have it back by this time next week."

"One week, I understand. You leave deposit."

"A deposit?" she protested. "I'm leaving my wedding dress. What more deposit do you need?"

"Fifty dollar. Deposit. How I know you come back for dress otherwise?"

"This is absurd …"

Lily Romanov slapped a credit card down on the counter. The counter man snapped it up.

"I'm leaving the dress," Kay protested. "I shouldn't have to leave a deposit, too."

"Next Thursday," Lily said firmly.

"One week. I got it."

"In the morning," Lily continued.

He squinted at her, then at the card. "You don't look like no Robert McCall."

"No. And you're not Chinese."

He stared at her, then grinned. When he spoke, his accent was suddenly more Brooklyn than Beijing. "Thursday morning. You got it."

Kay said, "You have Robert's credit cards."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"He thought we might need to put deposits down. I have checks, too, if we need them."

"I'd better keep those," Kay said. "We don't want them being misplaced."

"I'll keep them," Lily answered firmly.

"But …"

The small man swept the dress over the counter to his side. "Be careful with that," Kay insisted.

"We'll be careful with it."

"On a hanger."

"On a hanger."

"A padded hanger. Not a wire one."

The man looked at her. Then he looked at Lily. "She your mother?"

"Hell no."

"Happy you." He slid the card back to her. "Thursday morning."

"Thank you."

"It can't be replaced, you know …" Kay began, but her companions had already left her.

Control kept lists, many lists of many things, but he kept them in his head.

He did not use a white board, except on those occasions when he needed to share his list with minds less agile than his own. But the lists existed. Some were temporary – things to do in a certain region or mission that, once accomplished, were checked off and the whole list went away. There were others, usually in the background, that continued. One thing accomplished, another added. Or a dozen added.

He kept many lists.

The current lists at the foreground of his thoughts contained the countries that had until very recently made up the Communist Bloc.

The collapse of the Soviet Union had caused upheaval in every one of its member countries. But in some – those where there was already an alternative system of government forming – the upheaval had been brief and relatively bloodless. Poland was a prime example. Walesa was on his own feet, perhaps a bit unsteady but well-supported, by Solidarity and by the Catholic Church, both considerable forces. There were a dozen factions trying to bring him down, but there were twice as many propping him up. Below the relatively tranquil surface, their battles played out in classic spy-vs.-spy fashion. Control was fairly certain he had the upper hand, and that the teams he had in place would maintain it for him. It bore watching, of course, but for the moment it had been relegated to the B-list.

East Germany had been home to massive street riots the year before. But when the police refused to fire on the crowds, the government was forced to accede. The same had happened in Czechoslovakia. Vaclav Havel had been in jail in January; by December he was president. And not, in Control's opinion, a bad writer, either. Hungary had changed swiftly but fairly bloodlessly.

B-listed, all of them. Watch and help.

The A-list was longer, and much more complex. Bulgaria had been thrashing softly for most of the 80's, and Zhivkov's resignation in November of '89 was still yielding mixed results. It looked very much like the Communists, under a new name, would be returned to power. Yet they seemed largely ready to embrace reform and capitalism; for the moment quiet, but well-watched by Control's people.

Romania was in greater turmoil. Ceausescu's attempts to stomp out opposition were meeting with growing resistance, organization and violence. He had been booed roundly at a public rally in Bucharest at the end of the year. Yet no single leader or party had yet stepped forward to fill the void the violence sought to create. Control had been searching extensively for a likely candidate to put forward and prop up – invisibly, of course. His alternative was to prop up the dictator; the alternative to that was utter chaos.

But Yugoslavia was by far the worst of them. Yugoslavia jumped off the A-list and onto a list of its own. No unifying leader had emerged, and none could be found. Instead, the country was grinding into nationalism, mainly Serbs and Croats, both sides encouraged to hate each other by Communists desperate to retain power. Add to the mix the Slovenes, the Albanians, the Magyars … it was a toxic stew, and its poison was ready to boil over the landscape in waves of blood.

And it was to there, to the beautiful mountains and breeze-stroked villages, that Control was sending his best people. And it was there that he expected many of them to die.

"Clarence?"

"McCall! How are you?"

"I'm well. And you?"

"I'm fine, just fine."

"Business is going well?"

"Going great. See for yourself. I got three cars now. All the business I can handle."

Robert nodded. "Good, good." Then, "I need a favor, Clarence."

"For you, McCall, anything. You know that."

"I need a car for a wedding."

"Hey! You getting married? The Stephanie broad hooked you, huh?"

"Not me, no. Heaven forbid. My son, Scott."

"Oh. Sweet. Well, hey, you tell me when you need it, you got it."

"A week from Saturday."

"Nope. No can do."

"Clarence …"

"I'm booked up, McCall. Paying customers. You give me some notice, a couple months, I'll be happy to help, but like this? Can't be done."

Robert nodded thoughtfully. "All right then. Thank you anyhow."

He started away.

"Hey, McCall, you're not just gonna leave like that, are you?"

McCall turned back. "I can't ask you to abandon paying customers, Clarence. It wouldn't be right. I'll just find another way, that's all. Another limo company."

"Aw, now, don't be like that. You know I'd help you out if I could."

"I know, Clarence. I know." He started off again.

"McCall."

Robert hid his grin before he turned. "Yes?"

Clarence threw his hands up. "I'll find a way. Somehow. Get another driver in here, something. I'll figure it out. I'll be there."

"I don't want to put you to any trouble, Clarence."

"Man, you been nothing but trouble since the first time I saw you."

McCall did grin then. "Thank you, Clarence."

The driver just shook his head.

His apartment reeked of marker. Kay was in a lather of writing; Becky was ominously quiet; Lily was gone.

"She went to the airport," Becky said, when Robert asked.

"The airport?" he asked with concern. For a wild moment he feared that she'd return with his daughter before he'd talked to Kay about her.

"Uh-huh. Some friend of yours called. Stock?"

Robert frowned at her. "Jacob Stock?

"That's it."

Kay said "Do you have Denny Ford's new address?"

"What's Stock doing here?"

"Crashing the wedding, I suppose," Kay snapped. "Denny Ford?"

Robert shook his head. "We can't invite Denny."

"Why not?"

"Because he died last year."

"Oh." She shrugged philosophically and crossed a name off her list. "Well, then we have room for this Stock person."

"Nice wheels," Stock said, throwing his bag in the trunk. "Can I drive it?"

"Hell no."

"You seem tense. What's wrong, Control riding your ass?"

Lily raised one eyebrow at him. "Not currently. I'm on leave. Same as you."

"Yeah. Well, you wanna catch a ball game or something?"

Lily shook her head. "You know Scott McCall?"

"I know him, yeah. Nice kid."

"He's getting married. A week from Saturday."

"Oh, man. The girl knocked up?"

"No. I got him a gig in a road show that leaves the day after. He wants to take the girl. His mother wants a Great White Wedding."

Stock sank into the passenger seat slowly. "I've met Mrs. McCall. I, uh, I have friends in London I could go visit."

Lily grinned evilly. "Too late now, buddy. You're in, and you're staying."

The doors locked with an ominous click.

Jimmy called shortly after Robert got home. "I got one possible site, McCall, but it ain't gonna be cheap."

Robert sighed. "Tell me." He was absolutely certain that Jimmy was about to tell him it was the same hotel where he and an entire wedding party had once been held hostage. There was no doubt in his mind.

"The Roosevelt."

"What?"

"The Roosevelt. Madison at 45th."

"Yes, I know where it is," Robert said. He frowned, thinking. He knew the place. It was magnificent. And expensive. Kay would be delighted.

"They got one room left, the Terrace something. Had a cancellation. If you want it, you better get over there tomorrow to book it."

"I will. Thank you."

"Don't forget my invitation."

"I won't, Jimmy."

"I like weddings. I been to enough of them …"

"Good night, Jimmy. Thank you." He put down the phone very quietly.

Kay leaned over the coffee table, compulsively revising her list yet again. Robert set a glass of Scotch down next to her hand. She barely glanced at it. "No, too early for me," she said with mild irritation. "You know that."

McCall sat down heavily. "Kay, we need to talk."

"Go ahead." She continued to scribble.

"Kay."

The phone rang. Robert ignored it. Before the machine picked up, it stopped.

Kay glanced at him. "You're not going to get that?"

"No."

"What if it's one of your … people?"

He shook his head. "They'll have to seek help elsewhere, I'm afraid, for the next few weeks. If it's truly important, they will call back and leave a message."

She nodded grimly and continued her writing.

"Kay," he said again.

She tossed the pen down and sat up. "Robert, if you're going to tell me that I'm taking charge of this whole wedding, you're wasting your breath. I already know that. But what choice do I have? It's not as if they could manage this on their own. For heaven's sake, it's all I can do to get them to make the simplest choices …"

"Kay. Just listen to me for a moment. Please."

"I'm listening, Robert. But I am not in the mood for one of your lectures. I don't see you stepping up to take over any of this planning."

He sighed and took a long sip of his drink. So many things there that he could argue with her about – starting with the fact that his bank account had most certainly been instrumental in the planning of this wedding. He let it go. "Kay, there is … there is something that you need to know. And perhaps – probably – I should have told you about it some time ago, but it never seemed like quite the right moment …"

Kay smirked. "If it's about young Miss Romanov, I've known about it for some time."

McCall shifted, drank again. "It is none of your business, but I am not sleeping with Lily Romanov."

"Not currently, you mean."

He considered. "Not currently. And she is not the young lady we need to talk about. But there is a young lady involved."

"What, another one?" she laughed archly. "What's next, Robert? High school girls?"

"Kay, you …" He stopped, bit back his anger. Then he brought out his wallet and produced a picture. "This young lady," he said pointedly. "Her name is Yvette Marcel."

Kay glanced at the photo, then looked away. "I am really not interested in …"

"She's my daughter."

"What?"

McCall drank again. "I knew her mother years ago, Kay, before we ever met. We had a … I didn't know about the child until she was grown."

His ex-wife glared daggers at him. "You have a daughter."

"Yes."

"You have a daughter," Kay repeated icily.

"Yes. She was raised in Canada, her step-father was killed some time back and she …"

Kay stood up. "Why are you telling me this, Robert? Why are you telling me now? Do you just save these things to hurt me at the worst possible times?"

"I am not telling you this to hurt you," Robert protested.

"Then why?"

He reached for his glass and drained the last of the Scotch. "Because Scott asked me to."

"Scott?" Kay wavered, and then her fury crested. "Scott knows about her?"

"Scott's met her," McCall pronounced. "He would like her to be a member of his wedding."

"You son of a bitch!" She scooped her glass off the coffee table and hurled it at the wall, where it shattered. "You miserable bastard, you … you …" Tears caught up with her anger and she gasped back a sob. "You had a bastard child, you told your son about her and you never ... you never … how could you do this to me?"

Robert rolled to his feet. "Kay, I'm sorry, I truly am. I did not mean for this to hurt you. And I know the timing is truly awful …"

"Truly awful," she sneered. "Exactly what would be a good time to drop this kind of news, Robert? You unbelievable bastard. I can't believe you did this to me."

"Kay, I've done nothing to you. I was with Manon long before I met you …"

It was, he knew instantly, the wrong thing to say. Kay dissolved into tears. "Manon?" she wept. "Manon that you used to call to in your sleep?"

"I never …"

"You did. You did for years. It was always her, wasn't it?"

"Kay, I …"

Out of words, McCall reached for her. Kay moved away sharply. "Don't."

He dropped his hands to his side. "I'm sorry, Kay. I am so sorry."

She put her hand over her face for a moment. Then she wiped her tears awkwardly, scooped up her notes and stuffed them in her purse. "I'm going out," she announced.

"Kay, please …"

Kay left, slamming the door behind her.

Robert rubbed his own eyes. He considered the Scotch on his wall, the broken glass on the floor. Need to clean that up. Soon.

But first he poured himself another drink.

The smartest thing Scott had done all day, he thought blearily, was to stop and buy a five-pound bag of ice.

He sprawled face-down on his living room floor in front of the fan with his arms outstretched. Becky had put zipper bags of ice on both his shoulders, on the back of his neck, on his left elbow and wrist and hand. The aspirin was kicking in, and he was almost comfortable.

In the kitchen, Becky was fussing over dinner. "Something simple," she'd said, but that was half an hour ago. His mom was stressing her out, and she was cooking to relieve her own tension.

There were, Scott thought, worse habits. His stomach rumbled softly.

The phone rang. Scott groaned. It was sure to be Kay with another demand. No, suggestion, rather. Very firm suggestion. He listened, tensing, as Becky spoke. He had just gotten comfortable, and now he was going to have to get up.

Sure enough, Becky came to the doorway. "Scott?"

He groaned aloud, then rolled away from his comfortable ice. "Mom?" he asked glumly.

"No." Becky seemed both amused and confused. "It's Yvette."

"It's who?" He rolled to his feet.

"Did you call her already?"

Scott shook his head. "I was waiting for Dad. Maybe he called her." He took the phone. "Yvette?"

"Hi, Scott," she said. The miles and borders between them couldn't cover the excitement in her voice. "Did I catch you at a bad time?"

"No. Just icing down. Did Dad call you?"

"No," she said, surprised. "I tried to call him, but he didn't answer. Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing," Scott answered.

"Good. Because I have great news."

"You do?"

"My company won the bid to redo all of Bancworld's offices. You know, the financial company? And I get to work on the Manhattan headquarters."

Scott grinned, bemused. "You do?"

Yvette's voice continued bright with excitement. "I get to come live in New York for six whole months!"