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But now Irina was here and everything was different. There was something about her that made him feel solid and of a piece. Just being with her restored him to himself.

Later that evening, at the White Chapel, Irina’s fantasy unfolded with the sweetness and precision of a sequel to Shrek. Las Vegas was a cluster of homages to the real thing: New York, Paris, Venice, and Cairo – the list went on and on. In the same way, a wedding in the White Chapel was a tricked-out version of the traditional ceremony. A chapel, yes, but not a church. Attendants and witnesses, of course, but strangers. “Close strangers.” Flowers and scattered rose petals and wedding cake and photos – unplanned by the bride, but definitely a part of the package.

Getting married in Vegas was like hiring an interior decorator. It was a massive invasion of privacy, but that was okay, because they knew best. They really did.

Irina’s elation at every detail transformed the ceremony. She emerged from the dressing room in an ankle-length satin sheath, hand-beaded with pearls by her mother, her cheeks rosy with excitement. “My God, she’s blushing,” one of the paid attendants whispered. “We’ve actually got a blushing bride!” When they repeated their vows, Irina’s voice shook with emotion. As Wilson slipped the ring on her finger, she beamed at him. Before the minister could grant permission, she threw herself into his arms. “I am loving you, Jack Wilson!” she caroled. “I am so lucky woman.”

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t have a lot of experience making people happy.

“Now we go home?” she asked.

Wilson nodded. “Yeah,” he said, “now we go home. Let’s go home.”

CHAPTER 48

FALLON, NEVADA | JUNE 21, 2005

A week can be a very long time. Long enough so that the woman who refilled the coffee urns and cereal dispensers in the breakfast room began to greet Burke with a friendly smile. “How’re you today?” she’d ask, realigning doughnuts and bagels between incursions of eaters.

He was ready to go back to Dublin. But he figured he might as well play the string out and wait for Madame Puletskaya’s call. Then he could honestly say he’d done everything he could do. And there was a chance, a Super Lotto kind of chance, that Wilson himself would show up – at Mandy’s, in Fallon. Maybe Burke would get lucky.

Meanwhile, he explored.

He went to Pyramid Lake, and then out to Grimes Point, where a millennium earlier Jack Wilson’s ancestors had carved petroglyphs into the boulders. You could be standing there in the front of the glyphs, gazing into the past, while right behind you matte-black fighter jets – Tomcats and Hornets – took off and landed at the Naval Air Station.

Tuesday. June 21.

Would Madame Puletskaya even call? He sat in a chair beside the bed in his room, with a newspaper at his feet, silently rehearsing his friend-of-the-groom voice. She says/I say… It was almost ten when the phone rang. He lifted the receiver to his ear. “Hullo?”

“This is Madame Puletskaya. Good morning!”

He introduced himself.

Olga must have briefed her because she got right to the point. “You are friend of Jack’s, you say? But how do I know this?”

“I’m a good friend of Jack’s,” he told her. “He gave me your number. Told me to call. To tell you the truth, he’s so delighted with Irina, he thought I might have the same luck.”

He could almost hear Madame Puletskaya’s crusty exterior cracking like packed ice. “Beautiful girl,” she said. “I am so happy for them. Very sweet, maybe shy – you like shy girl also?”

He didn’t know what to say. “Yeah! Shy girls are… something!”

“If you are signing up for our service,” she told him, her voice manifestly shrewd, “for the Sweet Sixteen, you get sixteen pictures and e-mail contact is all. For the Great Eight, you get photos and complete biographies of eight girls, e-mail contact, one letter translated, and one delivery of flowers. This is better deal. Is more selective. And for friend of Jack, I’m especially picking only most beautiful girls. One hundred twenty-five euros. Maybe one hundred fifty dollars. You have computer? Is extra to send, but if you like, we can do FedEx.”

“About Jack-”

“We settle business first, okay? You prefer Great Eight, yes? Is better deal. And you have computer?”

He got the picture. She might be willing to talk about Jack, but she wanted to make a sale first. “Yes,” he said, “I have a computer.”

“We take Visa and Master. Also PayPal, if you prefer.”

He pulled out his wallet, and read off the numbers from his Visa card. When she had finished giving him directions on how to access his “Great Eight,” he asked her again. “The thing is, about Jack and Irina-”

“You go to wedding?

He paused, realizing he didn’t know if the wedding had occurred or not. “I… no,” he said, “but I’d really like to send a present.”

“Very nice, yes, for bride couple.”

“The thing is, Jack gave me his new address, but I don’t have it with me.”

She hesitated, but she came through. “Oh? Is beautiful place, my goodness! Irina shows me pictures. She is lucky lucky girl.” He heard typing on a keyboard, and then, as he held his breath, he listened as she read out the address.

“Post Office Box one-two-four, Juniper, Nevada.” She gave him the zip code.

“Thanks so much,” he said, thinking – shit, a post office box. “Do you have a telephone number?” He was thinking that he might be able to pull up a street address using a reverse-lookup directory.

The Russian was quiet for a moment, then said. “This, I don’t release. Privacy rules, yes?”

“It’s just that sometimes FedEx wants a phone number, that’s all.”

“There is possibility of UPS,” she told him. Then changed the subject. “Such a couple!” she declared. “This one, I can tell it works out. Sometimes, you can tell… no! It’s… what do you say? A train wreck! But this one? This one is marriage made in heaven. And for Irina? I am so happy for this girl. If nothing else, God forbid, at least she gets good medical care.”

Burke thought he’d misheard. “Medical care?”

“Sure! You have best medical care in America. I tell her this.”

“That’s what they say.”

“In Ukraine, it’s not so good. Doctors, they are all becoming taxi drivers and waiters. I can’t blame them. It’s more money. So… U.S.? It’s better for my little Irina.”

“Is she… ill?”

“No-no-no-no-no-no-no. She’s perfectly healthy, of course! Her condition, it’s perfectly under control. Ukrainebrides guarantees this: healthy young women. Every girl can have children.”

“But she has a condition,” Burke said. “If I’m going to hook up with someone-”

“Yes, but I’m telling you it’s not serious.”

“I understand, but…” He could sense her thinking on the other end of the line, worrying that she was about to lose a client.

“Okay,” she said, “but maybe you don’t mention this, okay? Irina, she’s shy about this. You’re promising?”

“Not a word. I just want to be sure – for myself.”

“Well,” Madame Puletskaya said with a sigh, “it’s like this…”

A post office box might not be the most useful address, but it was all Burke had. And when he looked up the location of Juniper, it seemed like it just might be enough. Juniper was a speck (Pop. 320) near the Idaho border, the kind of place where people would know about the new guy in town, especially if the new guy had a lot of money.

It was close to noon when he checked out. And he was beginning to worry. For the first time, the question arose in his mind: What if I actually find the sonofabitch? Then what? As he recalled, Francisco d’Anconia was kinda big. And, seemingly, pretty fit. Which wasn’t surprising when you considered that he’d spent the last ten years doing push-ups, lifting weights, and jogging around his cage.