Jane chewed her lip. She heard Nick’s voice in her head: If they try to make you comfortable, let them think they’re making you comfortable.
Danberry said, “A little Springsteen, maybe some Michael Jackson?”
She pushed out the well-rehearsed words, “Popular music is frowned upon, but it’s not completely verboten.”
“Music is freedom, right?”
Jane shook her head. There was no script for this.
“It’s like—” He held out his hands, fingers splayed. “It moves people. Inspires them. Makes them wanna dance or grab a gal and have a good time. It’s got power.”
Jane felt herself nodding, because that was exactly how she’d felt watching the impromptu concerts the students had put on in Treptow Park. She’d wanted desperately to tell Nick about them, but she had to be careful about Germany because she didn’t want him to feel left out.
Danberry asked, “You political?”
She shook her head. She had to play the game.
They’ll know you’ve never voted.
She told the agent, “I’ve never even voted.”
“You do a lot of volunteering, though. Soup kitchens. Homeless shelters. Even that AIDS ward they set up over at UCSF. Not afraid you’ll catch it?”
Jane watched him smoke his cigarette.
He said, “Rock Hudson shocked the hell out of me. Never would’ve thought he was one of them.” He stared up at the Golden Gate, asking, “Was your dad playing matchmaker?”
Don’t answer the question if you don’t understand it.
Danberry explained, “You went away to Germany for three months. Your boyfriend stayed here catting around with your brother.” He glanced at her, then looked back at the bridge. “Ellis-Anne MacMillan said the break-up with Andrew was very unexpected. But they usually are.”
Don’t let them surprise you into reacting.
He asked, “So, the old man flies Mr. Harp to Norway for what? To get you two kids back together?”
Just give them the facts. Don’t over-explain.
She told him, “Nick and I were never apart. I was in Berlin for a job. He had to stay here for work.” Jane knew she should stop talking, but she could not. “Father gave him the job at Queller. He probably wanted Nick in Oslo for himself. The panel with Maplecroft was a big deal. Nick’s very charming, very easy to be around. People have always liked him. They’re drawn to him. Father was no exception. He wanted to help Nick up the ladder.”
“Guys like that always fall up.”
Jane chewed the tip of her tongue. She had to look away so that he did not catch the anger in her eyes. She had never been able to abide anyone running down Nick. He’d suffered so much as a child. People like Danberry would never understand that.
“He’s got charisma, right?” Danberry put out the cigarette on the bottom of his shoe and tossed the butt into the ashtray. “The pretty face. The quick wit. The cool clothes. But it’s more than that, right? He’s got that thing some guys have. Makes you want to listen to them. Follow them.”
The wind picked up, rustling the edges of the Chronicle. Jane folded the paper closed. She saw the garish headline: $1,000,000 RANSOM OR PROF DIES!
A ridiculous headline for a ridiculous manifesto. Nick had made them all sound unhinged.
Danberry said, “‘Death to the fascist insect that preys on the life of the people.’”
Jane didn’t recognize the line from the ransom note. She pretended to skim the paper.
Danberry said, “It’s not in there. I was talking about the Patty Hearst kidnapping. That’s how the Symbionese Liberation Army signed all of their screeds—‘Death to the fascist insect that preys on the life of the people.’” He studied her face. “Your family has another house near the Hearsts, right? Up in Hillsborough?”
“I was a kid when it happened.”
His laugh said that he thought she still was a kid. “Carter couldn’t free the hostages, but he got Patty Hearst out of lockup.”