Once he’d been released from Harmony Three, he’d pretended that neither of them existed.
Collis clenched his hand shut, not wanting to see the Leo tattoo on his palm. According to the papers on his desk, Goldie – who’d had him when she was just seventeen herself and who really hadn’t been that bad, apart from being a drunk – had been found Discordant soon after he had, for public intoxication. She was sent to Harmony Two and had died there.
She’d been a Pisces. Collis pictured the tattoo that would have been on her palm and felt sick.
Hank was still alive, still working at the factory in Denver, stacking boxes. The paperwork had included a photo and Collis hardly recognized him. A reply slip was clipped to the documents. Would you like to take any action regarding the elder Mr Reed, sir?
Collis turned back to his desk and studied the black-and-white image. Suddenly he realized that his father must have seen him on the telio – must know by now that the “stuck-up good-for-nothing” had made something of himself after all.
He couldn’t stop the satisfaction that swept through him.
Actions count, not thoughts, he reminded himself harshly. He picked up a fountain pen.
No, he scrawled.
That night, making his way along the private corridor that connected his suite of rooms to Kay’s, Collis felt hunted, lost. For the first time, he had no mixed feelings about being with Kay – he wanted to forget everything in that four-poster bed.
He reached Kay’s door. He knocked softly.
When Kay opened it, she wore a white lacy negligee. Her hair was down around her shoulders. It suited her, softened her features. She started to say something. Collis didn’t give her the chance. He put a hand on either side of her face and drew her to him almost roughly.
He’d feigned passion with her many times; tonight he wasn’t pretending. He clutched her to him, letting his hands roam as their mouths moved together. I need you, I need someone, please let me lose myself in you…
She seemed to feel the difference. She pressed tightly against him. When they drew apart a little, she gazed at him, slightly wry, slightly vulnerable. “Collis…”
He scooped her up in his arms. “Close the door,” he whispered.
The first time they’d spent the night together had been only days after their deal was made. Kay had turned up in the lavish Washington bedroom one night and slipped under the covers with him.
Collis had been asleep and had woken with a start. In the light from the open curtains he could see her features, her eyes looking very big in her pointed face, her hair loose for a change. It was longer than he would have guessed, halfway down her back.
“How’s your arm?” she said, moving so that she was on top of him. Her voice sounded thick, as if she’d been crying.
“What arm?” Collis said huskily. His heart had beat rapidly: a sickening mix of automatic desire and fear. It was survival and that was all, yet he’d had no idea if he could do it.
I’ll think of Amity, he decided – but when he did, all he could see was the look on her face as the Guns had taken her away. Panicked, he’d closed his eyes then and just concentrated on the physical sensations. To his surprise, he’d lost himself in them. They were a relief – a release.
The same was true tonight, except that it didn’t even occur to him to think of Amity. Afterwards, Kay curled against him and he held her, for a change not comparing her slim figure to Amity’s more firmly rounded one. As he drifted off he felt grateful that he’d been able to let it all go for a while.
Then the nightmare came again.
Harmony Three. A mangled corpse that came alive and accused him. This time Amity was there, being arrested again. The corpse was telling her everything, and then she was a corpse too, mangled and torn. It was all his fault. He was good for nothing; he was shit and always had been; there would never be anything he could do to change any of it…
“Collis!”
He awoke with a start, chest heaving, and realized he’d been thrashing his head back and forth on the pillow. Kay was shaking his arm.
“You were shouting,” she said.
“I…” He couldn’t speak for a moment. He pressed his hand to his eyes. Kay’s fingers stayed on his arm, stroking it tentatively.
“My mother died,” he whispered.
“Oh,” said Kay softly. With a rustle of sheets, she stretched for the bedside table. She passed him a glass of water.
“Did you like her?” she said after a pause.
The question was an odd relief. Collis propped himself on his elbow and gulped the water. He handed the glass back. “Sometimes,” he said finally. “She drank too much. She was only seventeen when she had me.”
“Well, I’m sorry she’s dead,” Kay said, her tone slightly formal.
Collis gazed at the ceiling. “Yeah.”
“When did it happen?”
“Years ago. I just found out.”
Kay looked as if interest were battling a wish to not share too much. They’d never really discussed their pasts.
“What about your father?” she asked at last.
“He’s a bastard and he’s still alive.”
A bitter grimace crossed Kay’s face, as if this were all too familiar. She pulled the sheet tightly around herself. “Was that what your nightmare was about?”
“No.” Collis hesitated, studying her.
Kay had it in her power to close the correction camps. She’d chosen not to. “They’re still needed for control,” she’d said coldly when he’d brought it up. “They keep people cautious. Believe me – I’ve lived with that terror most of my life.”
Collis hated that she was continuing Gunnison’s legacy and that he had to play along. Realizing that fear was her main motivator didn’t help.
Yet he knew she wouldn’t judge him.
“It was about Harmony Three,” he said finally. “Someone I betrayed there.” Amity had asked about his nightmare too. He could never have told her. He’d dreaded seeing the look in her eyes when she found out what kind of person he was.
Kay’s expression was merely expectant – curious.
Collis rubbed the back of his neck. “See…I was an informer. I betrayed other prisoners to get more food…better living conditions. And I guess I was pretty good at it. The Guns used me a lot.”
Kay’s small, wry smile said she’d have expected nothing less. Collis had told Mac this much too, one night in Topeka when Mac had ordered him to divulge his past. Collis hadn’t gone into the details of this particular betrayal. To his relief Mac hadn’t pursued it.
He cleared his throat. “Anyway, there was a prisoner with information Johnny wanted. Lester Henley. They’d put him in solitary, beaten him… Lester didn’t break. So they moved me into his hut and I befriended him. He was a middle-aged guy. Sick. Lonely. I pretended I’d known his son. In a few weeks, Lester practically thought of me as his son.”
Collis paused, lost in images that might have been filmed in the grainy black-and-white of a telio play: Harmony Three’s unending greys; Lester Henley’s gaunt, trusting face.
I’m not surprised you and my son were friends, Collis. You’re very like him.
Kay shifted with a rustle of silken sheets. “Did you get the information?”
“Of course,” said Collis bitterly. “It wasn’t even that important. Just a couple of names Johnny wanted. Then I held Lester’s arms behind his back while some Guns beat him to death.”
A silence fell.
Kay lay on her side, considering him. “You survived. That’s what counts. Sometimes that means doing things that aren’t very pleasant.”
He shrugged tiredly. “Yeah, I guess,” he said…and fleetingly wished he could tell her his fear that the nightmare symbolized who he really was. He’d betrayed Lester. He’d betrayed Amity.
What if he betrayed the Resistance too?
“I’d have done the same,” Kay added.
Collis glanced at her and smiled slightly,
wondering how it was possible to despise the things Kay did, yet not despise Kay herself.
He hesitated, and then stroked a strand of her long hair back.
“I know,” he said.
She sat up, hugging her knees. “In fact, I did once.” Her expression was thoughtful. “There was a neighbour of mine who I thought might have reported me to the Guns. They came and tore my apartment up, and shot the client I was seeing.” She shuddered, looking angry with herself for still being troubled by it. “They took me in for questioning for two days. I was terrified.”
“Yeah?” Collis propped himself on his side, facing her.
“Mrs Lloyd, that was her name. I didn’t know for sure whether she’d reported me, but I pretended she’d been one of my clients. They arrested her and took her away. Sandford Cain did,” Kay added. “He knocked her out and dragged her right past me.”
“Did you feel guilty about it?”
Collis expected Kay to just say no. She paused, considering, thinking back.
“A little, maybe,” she said finally.
For several seconds there was only the ticking of the clock. “Can I ask you something?” Collis said suddenly.
Kay looked wary. “I may not answer.”
“That first night we were together,” he said. “Why were you crying?”
After that first time, Kay had nestled her face in the dip between his neck and shoulder. He’d felt warm wetness on his skin. When he’d asked, thinking it might be something he could use, she’d reminded him: “no strings”.
“Is asking questions a string?” he’d said.
“Yes.” She’d pulled away and wiped her eyes. “Talk about something else.”
“Hey, just making sure it’s not my technique,” he’d said after a pause. He’d forced himself to kiss her. He had pretended she was Amity then, their lips lingering together.
It was the first time they’d kissed. It had somehow felt more intimate than what had come before.
Now Kay made a face. Her hair fell over her narrow shoulders as she traced a line on the sheet.
“I don’t know,” she said finally. “I just…get blue sometimes.” She darted a glance at him. “That was my first kiss, you know. That night with you.”
“What?”
“First kiss.”
He stared at her. “But it wasn’t your first time. Or was it?”
“No. But Johnny never kissed me. And he was my first.” Kay looked distant for a moment, tapping a nail against her teeth. He sensed that she’d drawn a barrier around herself.
Something wistful stirred in Collis as he studied her. Without thinking, he slipped his hand behind her warm neck and kissed her. It deepened. Her lips tasted of cherries.
Kay looked startled as they drew apart. “What was that for?”
Collis shook his head, stroking his thumb over the corner of her mouth. “Nothing.”
They stared at each other. Collis let his hand fall with a sudden sinking feeling. He made a show of glancing at the gold clock that sat on the marble table. Three a.m.
“Maybe I should go,” he said. “Unless I can stay?”
He always asked. She always said no. He was relieved when she shook her head this time too, though in fact he did want to stay.
The realization disturbed him. Collis got up and got dressed, trying not to look as if he were hurrying. Kay sat in the middle of the large bed watching him, her knees tucked against her chest.
When he was clothed he leaned towards her and kissed her again, because he always kissed her goodbye and it would have looked strange if he hadn’t. He somehow ended up sitting on the bed again, their arms around each other as he stroked her smooth skin.
“Goodnight,” he whispered.
“Goodnight,” Kay echoed. She gave a small smile.
Collis left her room and slipped back out into the private corridor. Back in his own bedroom, he stood massaging his pounding head. He should hate Kay, but he didn’t. Being her lover was starting to mean a lot more to him than just screwing her.
We’ve got to make the assassination attempt soon, Mac, he thought.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
September, 1942
Dwight and I pressed against the curved tunnel wall. I peered around its side.
“I think we’re clear,” I whispered, and we hurried on.
We’d seen no sign of Hal so far – and hardly any Guns, though unexpected cave-ins sometimes blocked our way. I suspected most were further down by now, sealing off other routes.
Thinking of Ingo and the others, the idea wasn’t comforting.
Nearing the meeting place where we’d once brought President Weir, I hooded the lantern again. I looked cautiously around the corner at the tall, cavernous chamber and shock jolted through me.
A hundred feet away stood Collie.
He was clearly visible in the glow of a flashlight he’d put in a nook in the wall. He wore the same immaculate double-breasted suit he’d worn earlier on Kay Pierce’s balcony. As I watched, he glanced down at his wrist.
I ducked out of sight, thoughts reeling. At my expression, Dwight frowned and checked too; he pulled back in a rush.
“What’s he…” he whispered, and then stopped, staring at me. “He’s the contact,” he said slowly. “Collis Reed.”
Something hardened in me; I remembered the pistol I carried. “Come on,” I muttered.
Dwight hesitated. Finally he nodded.
We stepped out from around the corner. I turned the lantern up full power, shining its beam on Collie. He shielded his eyes, whirling to face us. I strode forwards, trying to minimize my limp.
“What are you doing here?” I said.
When he saw it was me, he let his arm fall. “Where’s Hal?” He started towards me.
I stopped and drew my pistol from the clutch purse. “Don’t come any closer,” I said, my voice shaking.
He stopped, his jaw hardening. I could feel Dwight at my side, and though he was hardly the most physically imposing of people, I was glad of his presence. There was a steeliness to his thin form as he stared at Collie.
“What happened today?” I said.
After a beat, Collie nodded at my pistol. “Can you put that down? Can we talk like civilized people?”
My fingers felt cold against the metal. “I’m not feeling very civilized. Mac’s been shot. The code word was wrong.”
Collie’s nostrils flared. Some emotion I couldn’t read flickered in his eyes. “Is he all right?” he said finally.
“We don’t know yet! He’s still alive. The Guns were everywhere we planned on being, Collie. Want to explain?”
He stood only feet away, a statue of himself.
“No,” he said quietly.
Agonized fury leaped through me. Dwight flinched as I took the safety off the pistol with a click. Collie didn’t move.
“Talk!”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
I was shaking. “What does that mean? Did you tip her off?”
His voice was rough, his shoulders solid and unmoving. “Like I said…you wouldn’t understand. Maybe I don’t, either. Things got complicated.”
“Simplify them!”
“Shoot me if you have to,” he said shortly. “Where’s Hal?”
Taken off-guard, I stared at him. “Hal?”
His voice rose. “Yes, Hal! Why do you think I’m here?”
“Why are you?” said Dwight.
“Because Hal called a meeting! Or at least I thought it was Hal. Someone on the shortwave – it sounded like him – came on and kept saying ‘converge’ over and over. One of my aides told me to come listen.”
My blood pounded. Hal had called Collie on the wireless. Of course. He’d wanted to get answers from him.
Collie took a step closer, frowning. “What’s happening, Amity? Is everyone getting out through the tunnels?”
I laughed – a harsh, brittle sound. “Do you really think I’m going to tell you that?”
&n
bsp; “Fine, don’t. But if they aren’t, they need to. It’s going to get ugly up there.”
“It was ugly already,” said Dwight in a low voice.
“I know that. It’s going to get a hell of a lot worse.” Collie glanced at his watch. “I have to go. I’m leaving the city soon. If you’re shooting me, do it now.”
He snagged his flashlight from the wall. His gaze rested briefly on mine, unsmiling.
“Tell Hal I came,” he said.
He turned and left, his stride brisk. His light gleamed on pieces of broken machinery as he went.
I stared after him, breathing hard. For a dark moment I longed to be able to pull the trigger. I’d shot Gunnison, why couldn’t I shoot him? Dwight hesitantly touched my arm. Finally Collie disappeared into the gloom.
Silence.
My hands felt hot. I couldn’t process this yet. I shoved the pistol away. “Where was the wireless set?” I asked urgently.
“In the van.” Dwight was still gazing after Collie. He gave a short shake of his head and glanced at me. “Hal saw me park it when I got to Centre Park. He knows I keep the keys over the sun visor. Can he drive? If he got topside, he might have taken it somewhere and—”
“Yes, he can drive,” I broke in.
Collie had taught him. I had a sudden flash of Hal’s face when he’d told me how Collie rescued him from hiding. I’ll be grateful to him for as long as I live.
Fear winced my scalp. If he hadn’t made it back here to meet with Collie, what had happened to him?
“Come on,” I said hurriedly, and started to jog through the tunnel.
“Where would he have gone to broadcast, do you suppose?” whispered Dwight.
We were in a small cluster of trees just inside the Harmony Street entrance to Centre Park. Dwight had left his van nearby; it was now gone. So Hal had taken it.
Everything was so still – there was hardly even a breeze stirring the hot, heavy air – yet I could hear sirens everywhere in the surrounding streets. In the distance, the palace rose up above the treeline.
“He couldn’t have gotten through a checkpoint,” I murmured back to Dwight. “So it had to be from somewhere in this sector.” That was only the park and a few blocks on either side.
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