Page 43 of The Session

“You do. You use them. Don’t let them use you,” Carol said. “Find out if they’re as bad as people say, or if things got better and they’re the organization I think they could be.”

“And how do I do that?”

“Everybody there wants something, but not the same thing. Your job is to figure out what it is. You should start by reading your father’s books—where he explains that.”

Mark finally drove home and went to bed.

When he woke up at two o’clock, there was a text message from Tru: a link to the front page of CNN’s website. Everything he needed to know was in the headline: Body Cam Shows Paramedic Rescuing Officer under Fire.

Under it was a frame grab of Mark carrying Officer Bettencourt.

Mark dialed the number Tru had given him. A moment later, a woman with an Australian accent answered.

“Hello, Mark. How may I be of assistance?” she asked.

“Tell Ms. Feingold I’m ready to explore job opportunities,” Mark said.

“Wonderful,” the woman said, with genuine excitement. “We’re so happy to have you aboard. How soon can you be ready?”

“Well, if you can have somebody fill my shift tonight, then I can be ready by the time you have a car here,” Mark joked.

“We’ve already spoken to the facility and have a wonderful young man ready to take your place. There’s a car and driver parked across the street right now, available whenever you want.”

“I’ll need to arrange a flight,” Mark said.

“We’ll take care of that.”

Mark walked over to his window and peeked through the blinds. A brand-new Cadillac Escalade was parked under the trees at the corner. A driver wearing a suit sat behind the wheel.

“Goddamn,” Mark muttered to himself. Tru hadn’t been exaggerating.

A nervous feeling began to wash over him. This felt like the part of a story where somebody rubbed a magic lamp and unleashed a brand of magic they didn’t understand.

Entry Level

Mark knew something was up when the driver took an exit before the one leading to the airport and drove him instead to a small private airfield, parking in front of a G5. Tru stood on the jet’s stairs, smiling.

“How long were you going to wait for me?” Mark asked.

“I would have flown home tonight on this and sent the smaller jet for you if you took longer to decide,” Tru replied.

“Thank goodness I decided as quickly as I did, or else I’d have to fly in a smaller private jet,” Mark shot back. “God forbid.”

The flight attendant, a slender woman with short dark hair, took his bag. “I’ll handle that for you, Mr. Lightman.”

Mark was going to correct her but decided it wasn’t worth the effort.

“I can tell by your complete lack of shock you had a conversation with your mother,” Tru observed.

“And I assume at some point I’m going to have a conversation with my father,” Mark added.

“Soon enough,” Tru replied.

“I take it he wasn’t taking the initiative on this?” Mark asked.

“It’s not quite like that,” Tru replied as she led him into the luxurious cabin. “Things are complicated. He’s complicated. You’ll understand soon. But I can assure you, he will be very, very pleased to finally meet you.”

“I hope the feeling is mutual.”