Free Eden in Winter by Richard North Patterson Page B

agency has enabled, even required that you avoid confronting your own emotions. You’ve developed all sorts of defences exacerbated by stress: compartmentalizing, vigilance, extreme caution in relationships, emotional distance, and serious levels of distrust. But you haven’t stopped being human.’ Charlie leaned forward, looking at Adam intently. ‘What those nightmares call up for me is the part of you that is connected to your deeper feelings, many of which precede your work with the agency – including your fear ofdeath. Or, as troubling, your expectation of dying.’
    Adam found himself without words. Watching his face, Charlie prodded. ‘You expect to die young, don’t you?’
    Adam stared at the deck, unsure of how to answer. ‘It’s crossed my mind.’
    ‘Do you think that’s all about your job? Or is there something more to it?’
    ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘But you do know when those feelings started. You didn’t have them when you were young, did you?’
    Painfully, Adam tried to remember the boy he had been. ‘That’s like recalling another life, Charlie. But I don’t remember having those feelings then. At least not consciously.’
    ‘Yet at some point you started feeling disconnected from relationships – a loss of joy, of wanting to be fully in the world.’
    Adam shrugged. ‘Sounds like a pretty good job description.’
    ‘So you say. But you sought out that job. I wonder if, at some earlier point, you began feeling expendable. Or were made to feel that way.’
    Adam found that he could say nothing. Looking at him closely, Charlie asked, ‘If you look at it honestly, Adam, how do you cope with the risk of dying?’
    For a moment, Adam closed his eyes. ‘I’d say I’ve become “familiar with the night”. If I die, I can accept that. I’ve come to believe that I won’t have long relationships, or children of my own. I try to imagine it, and I can’t anymore.’
    Charlie bit his lip. ‘Actually, I’m not sure you
do
accept that – at least not quite. Beyond that, I’d say you just described a fairly typical response for someone with your profile.’
    ‘Which is?’
    ‘Damaged,’ Charlie said bluntly. ‘In your case, an attractive, smart, and inherently empathic man, with unusual abilities and the capacity to work your will on the world around you. But someone whose experience of family involved increasing levels of uncertainty, ambiguity, and dishonesty. Your “father” lied to you, competed with you and, I think, betrayed you in some terrible way. Your mother deceived you, and didn’t protect either of her sons when Benjamin Blaine demeaned Teddy for being gay and treated you as a rival. Even your supposed Uncle Jack, who was kind and consistent in that role, didn’t come to your defence. And he, too, was keeping a terrible secret from you. Then something even worse caused you to break off with Ben, leave this island, and change the entire course of your life. Take all that together, and the message I think you got is that your feelings don’t matter – that, on some subliminal level,
you
don’t matter.
    ‘Often such people become hedonists, losing themselves in drugs or sex. Instead, you put yourself in a dangerous situation with a high risk of death. One might suppose that the C.I.A. allowed you to try outrunning your own demons, while pursuing self-annihilation in a way that preserves your self-image as a capable, autonomous person …’
    ‘Actually,’ Adam cut in sharply, ‘I’d say my career choice was a pretty natural response to watching madmen from Al Qaeda blow up two high-rises and kill three thousand people. Call me sentimental.’
    Charlie watched his face. ‘I understand that part, Adam. But when you’re back in Afghanistan, ask yourself whether you want to survive, and if you can imagine a life you can embrace on the other side.’ He paused for emphasis, thenfinished slowly and succinctly. ‘I’d like to think that’s the truest meaning of