“Who?” Barry asks as I read his lips.

His guard mouths my name.

The moment Barry hears it, he pauses, then quickly covers it up with a perfect grin. It’s a classic lobbying trick – pretend you’re happy to see everyone. Even when you can’t see.

The guard lowers Barry into the seat and hands him the receiver that’s hanging on the glass. Around his wrist, there’s a nametag that looks like a hospital bracelet. There’re no shoelaces in his sneakers. Barry doesn’t seem to be bothered by any of it. Crossing one leg over the other, he tugs on the pant leg of his orange jumpsuit like it’s his regular two-thousand-dollar suit.

“Pick up,” the guard yells through the glass, motioning for me to grab the receiver.

An ocean of acid churns through my stomach as I lift the chipped receiver to my ear. I’ve been waiting two weeks for this call, but it doesn’t mean I’m looking forward to it.

“Hey,” I whisper into the mouthpiece.

“Man, you sound like crap,” Barry sings back, already trying to act like he’s inside my brain. He tilts his head as if he can see my every expression. “Really, though – like someone kicked you in the face.”

“Someone did,” I say, staring straight at him.

“Is that all you’re here for?” he asks. “One last potshot?”

I continue to stay silent.

“I don’t even know how you can complain,” he adds. “You seen a newspaper recently? The way the press is reading it, you’re coming through just fine.”

“That’ll change when the gambling part gets released.”

“Maybe yes, maybe no. Sure, you won’t get another government job – and you’ll probably be a pariah for a few years, but that’ll pass.”

“Maybe yes, maybe no,” I volley back, trying to keep him engaged. Anything to keep him talking.

“What about Senator Stevens?” Barry asks. “He feeling the regret yet for giving you the boot?”

“He didn’t have a choice.”

“Spoken like a true staffer,” Barry says.

“You telling me I’m wrong?”

“You’re definitely wrong. He knew you’d make a deal with the government – that’s all the cover he needed. Instead, you spend over a decade slaving away for the man, and he drop-kicks you when you need him most? Know how bad that looks for him? Mark it right now – that’s gonna cost him reelection.”

“He’ll be fine.”

“As I said, spoken like a true staffer.”

“Ex-staffer,” I shoot back.

“Don’t bitch to me,” Barry says. “I mean, look at it this way… at least you have your shoelaces.” He twirls the ankle that’s up on his knee. He’s trying to play it cool, but back by his waist, he’s picking at his wristband.

“By the way, did you see the piece in today’s Post?” he adds. He smiles wider, but he’s scratching even harder at the wristband. There’s only so long he can wear the brave face. “They actually called me a terrorist.”

I once again stay quiet. He’s definitely taking the public fall. Even though Lowell ’s office was able to find Sauls’s name and trace it back to Wendell, it took weeks to prove what really went on. Today, with Sauls dead and Janos missing, they need a neck for the noose – and right now, Barry’s it.

“I heard you hired Richie Rubin. He’s a good lawyer,” I point out.

He smells the small talk a mile away – he used to be in the business of it. Now he’s annoyed. The smile disappears fast.

“What do you want, Harris?”

There we go… a full two minutes to get back to reality. The man’s no dummy. He knows how I feel – I wouldn’t piss down his throat if his lungs were on fire. If I’m sitting here, I need something.

“Let me guess,” Barry says. “You’re dying to know why I did it…”

“I know why you did it,” I shoot back. “When you have no loyalty, and you’re so damn paranoid, you think the world’s against you-”

“The world is against me!” he shouts, leaning toward the glass. “Look where I’m sitting! You’re telling me I’m wrong?!”

I shake my head, refusing to get into it. Whatever perceived slights he thinks he’s the victim of, they’ve clearly whittled away at his reality.

“Don’t judge me, Harris. Not all of us are lucky enough to lead your charmed life.”

“So now it’s my fault?”

“I asked you for help over the years. You never gave it. Not once.”

“So I made you do all this?”

“Just tell me why you’re here. If it’s not me, and it’s not to catch up-”

“Pasternak,” I blurt.

A wide smile creeps up his cheeks. Sitting back in his seat, Barry crosses his arms and tucks the receiver between his chin and shoulder. Like he’s putting the Barry mask back on. He’s no longer fidgeting with his wristband. “It’s gnawing at you, isn’t it?” he asks. “You and I… we always had the competitive friendship. But you and Pasternak…? He was supposed to be your mentor. The one person you turned to when you had an emergency and had to break the glass. Is that what’s got you tossing and turning all night – wondering how your personal radar could be so completely wrong?”

“I just want to know why he did it.”

“Of course you do. Sauls bit his bullet… I’m on my way to biting mine… but Pasternak – that’s the one that’ll frustrate you the rest of your life. You don’t get to punch him, or yell at him, or have the big final confrontation scene with the bittersweet ending. It’s the curse of being an overachiever – you can’t handle a problem that can’t be solved.”

“I don’t need it solved; I just want an answer.”

“Same difference, Harris. The thing is, if you expect me to suddenly scratch your back… well… you know how the cliché goes…”

Forever the lobbyist, Barry makes his point clear without ever saying the actual words. He’s not giving any info unless he gets something in return. God, I hate this town.

“What do you want?” I ask.

“Nothing now,” he replies. “Let’s just say you owe me one.”

Even in an orange jumpsuit and behind six inches of glass, Barry still needs to believe he has the upper hand.

“Fine. I owe you one,” I tell him. “Now what about Pasternak?”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think he knew who was really driving the train. Sure, he took advantage of you with the game, but that was just to get the mining request in the bill.”

“I don’t understand.”

“What’s to understand? It was an unimportant request for a defunct gold mine in South Dakota. He knew Matthew would never say yes to it – not unless he had a good enough reason,” Barry says. “From there, Pasternak just took the game and put in the fix.”

“So Pasternak was one of the dungeon-masters?”

“The what?”

“The dungeon-masters – the guys who pick the bets and collect the cash. Is that how the mine request got in the game? He was one of the guys who ran it?”

“How else would it get there?” Barry asks.

“I don’t know… it just… all those months we were playing… all the people we were betting against – Pasternak was always trying to figure out who else was in on it. When the taxi receipt would come in, he’d go through each one, hoping to read handwritings. He even made a list of people who were working on particular issues… But if he was a dungeon-master…” I cut myself off as the consequences sink in.

Barry cocks his head to the side. His cloudy eye’s staring straight at me; his glass eye’s off to the left. Out of nowhere, he starts to laugh. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“What? If he were a dungeon-master, wouldn’t he know all the other players?”

Barry stops laughing, realizing I’m not in on the joke. “You don’t even know, do you?”

“Know what?”

“Be honest, Harris – you haven’t figured it out?”

I try my best to act informed. “Of course – I got most of it… Which part are you talking about?”

His foggy eye looks right at me. “There is no game. There never was one.” His eye doesn’t move. “I mean, you know it was all bullshit, right? Smoke and mirrors.”

As his words creep through the receiver and into my ear, my whole body goes numb. The world feels like my personal gravity’s just doubled. Sinking down – almost through – the seat of my orange plastic chair, I weigh a thousand pounds.