Keeper

DON’T MISS GREG RUCKA’S ATTICUS KODIAK NOVELS

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Praise for Greg Rucka’s
Keeper

“A few top crime writers—Robert B. Parker in the Spenser series, for instance—have wandered into bodyguard territory. Rucka has the talent to make it his own.”

—Publishers Weekly

“A strong debut and a real contribution to the genre.

Keeper
combines compelling plot with right-now subtext. Greg Rucka is going to make his mark . . . stay tuned!”

—Andrew Vachss

Rucka tells a hell of a story . . . genuinely suspenseful and attention-holding . . . I’ll definitely be watching for Rucka #2.”

—Deadly Pleasures

“Both a thoughtful and thought-provoking debut . . . Well written, with a prickly character you can get to like. Try it, you’ll like it.”

—Mystery Lovers Bookshop News

A fast-paced thriller . . . Kodiak is a man for the ’90s. He’s young, he’s sensitive, and he’s politically astute. I like him.”

—The Ottawa Citizen

“Powerful.”

—Kirkus Reviews

“Keep your eye on Rucka; he is a major talent.”

—
Statesman Journal,
Salem, Oregon

“Gritty debut novel as resonant as any
NYPD Blue
episode.”

—The Philadelphia Inquirer

“Rucka has combined the gumshoe style of the first-person crime-novel narrative with that of the intense pace of a good thriller.”

—Copley News Service

“Rucka’s descriptive narrative is realistic, compassionate and at times a little too vivid. ... A fascinating trip to a world seldom visited . . . Rucka is a man of the ’90s, a voice of the ’90s. There is hope.”

—Pittsburgh City Paper

“A truly mesmerizing novel that won’t easily be forgotten.”

—Alta Vista Magazine

“A moving story.”

—The Bookwatch

“If you like high-tension political novels and accept Rucka’s good guys/bad guys paradigm, this one is an exciting read.”

—Wichita Eagle

LOOK FOR GREG RUCKA’S OTHER NOVELS

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This edition contains the complete text of the original hardcover edition.

NOT ONE WORD HAS BEEN OMITTED.

KEEPER

A Bantam Book

PUBLISHING HISTORY
Bantam hardcover edition published July 1996 Bantam paperback edition / June 1997

All rights reserved.

Copyright © 1996 by Greg Rucka.

Cover art copyright © 1997 by Tom Hallman.

Library of Congress Catalog Card number: 95-45751.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

For information address: Bantam Books.

If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

ISBN 0-553-57428-0
Published simultaneously in the United States and Canada

Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books, a division of Random House, Inc. Its trademark, consisting of the words “Bantam Books” and the portrayal of a rooster, is Registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries. Marca Registrada. Bantam Books, New York, New York.

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA OPM 10 9 8 7 6 5

For Art and Bemie

In the new code of laws which I suppose it will be necessary for you to make I desire you remember the ladies, and be more generous and favorable to them than your ancestors. Do not put such unlimited power into the hands of the husbands. Remember all men would be tyrants if they could. If particular care and attention is not paid to the ladies we are determined to foment a rebellion, and will not hold ourselves bound by any laws in which we have no voice, or representation.

Abigail Adams, letter to John Adams, March 31, 1776

Though this novel was inspired by actual incidents, it is a work of fiction and references to real people and organizations are included only to lend a sense of authenticity. All of the characters, whether central or peripheral, are wholly the product of the author’s imagination, as are their actions, motivations, thoughts and conversations, and neither the characters nor the situations which were invented for them are intended to depict real people or real events. In particular, Sword of the Silent and its members are not meant to portray a real pro-life group and any resemblance to an actual group or individual is purely coincidental.

I am indebted to a number of people for their assistance and guidance, not only in the areas touched upon by this novel, but in all that was required to reach this point.

At the Federal Bureau of Investigation: Special Agents John Weis, Bobbi Cotter, and Ernest J. Porter for their patient cooperation in assisting me with my research and keeping me informed as new information became available. Additional thanks to Special Agent Swanson D. Carter, Unit Chief, Office of Public and Congressional Affairs.

Gerard “Jerry” V. Hennelly, President of Executive Security Protection International, Inc. (ESPI, Inc.), who provided guidance and insight into the profession of the “true” bodyguard. My newest old friend.

Others who left their stamp on this work in a variety of ways: Officer William M. Conway, NYPD; N. Michael Rucka and Corrina Rucka; Elizabeth Rogers, NY EMS, Paramedic; Eric Lonergan, NY EMS, Paramedic; David Farschman; The Friday Mid-Day Coffee Klatch—Nic, Mike, and Mark; Daria “Or Should I Say Bridgett?” Penta; Casey Alenson Blaine; Kate Miciak; Peter Rubie; Sid, Frank, Peter, and Leslie.

Special thanks to Nunzio Andrew DeFilippis. Jillian loves Teah almost as much as I love you. May Walter Matusek live forever.

Finally, to Jennifer. She knows why.

KEEPER

Much as I wanted to, I didn’t break the guy’s nose.

Instead, I kept both hands on Alison’s shoulders, using my body as a shield to get us through the crowd. At six feet and over one hundred and ninety pounds, I’m big enough to be intimidating, even wearing glasses. People normally get out of my way when I want them to.

But the guy stuck with us, even going so far as to lean his face closer to mine. His teeth were the product of either good genes or expensive orthodontia, and the fire was hot in his eyes. He yelled, “Don’t let her murder your son!”

Another man pushed a camera at us and snapped a quick photograph, reflecting us in the lens. Over the prayers of several people who pleaded with Jesus to save the soul of our unborn child, I could hear the photographer say, “We won’t forget you.” Whether that was directed at us or the fetus wasn’t clear.

Alison said nothing, her head low and near my chest, one hand around my back, one on my arm. I’d never felt her hold me like that. It almost hurt.

A young black man wearing a safety-orange vest over his T-shirt opened the glass door for us. As we went past he said, “Damn. We don’t usually get this.” He closed the door behind us, then turned and gave a nod to the uniformed security guard, who buzzed us through a second door, letting us into the ground-floor reception room.

For a disorienting moment we stood there, on the neat checkers of linoleum, still clinging to one another. New faces all around looked back, some embarrassed, some sad, some carefully blank. Eight women, waiting on chairs and couches, and only two of them looked obviously pregnant. One had a baby in her arms. Somehow the child could sleep through all the noise from outside.

A nurse behind the desk said, “Your name?”

Alison let go of me. “Alison Wallace.”

The nurse checked a printout on the counter, then nodded. “You want the second floor. Through that door, down the hall, take the elevator or the stairs.” She smiled at Alison. “Check in at the counter there.” Then the nurse looked at me and asked, “You’ll be going up with her?” 

“Yes.”

“Your name?”

“It’s Atticus,” Alison told her. “Atticus Kodiak.”