Page 86 of His Wall

Declan was quiet for a long second.

"Let me get this straight, Jules. You are telling me your assistant is a federal agent. Someone shot at you. And you are in a safehouse in Brooklyn."

"Yes."

"And you did not call us for two days."

"My phone got confiscated. It’ll be returned soon."

A beat.

"By whom?" Nolan said.

"The federal agent."

The silence on the other end was the silence of two men deciding which of three possible reactions to start with.

Nolan went first. He always went first when the other one was trying not to lose his temper.

"Tell us what you need from us, Jules."

I told them. Conrad's play, what I understood of it. Destabilize publicly. Trigger a regulatory inquiry. Pick up the pieces through shell companies once the firm's value cratered. The article in the financial press yesterday was the first move. There would be more.

Declan exhaled.

"We get ahead of it. Voluntary disclosure. We self-report on the founding-era irregularities. We hire counsel today. We make the firm the cooperator, not the target."

"Agreed."

"You're not coming in until the Bureau clears it, Jules."

"Dec — "

"You're not coming in until the Bureau clears it. We are not losing you to a sniper because you wanted to sit in a meeting. Nolan and I will run point. We will come to you for the architecture. The architecture is the part only you have."

"Okay."

"Jules."

"Yeah, Dec."

"I am very angry with you."

"I know."

"For at least three different reasons."

"I know, Dec."

"We will discuss them when this is over."

"Okay."

"Stay alive, Jules."

The line went dead.

I sat with the receiver in my hand for a second longer than I needed to.