by Clara Ward
She tilted her head again and sighed, “Congratulations.”
“Well, it’s not quite done yet. We’ve set up a network of alliances to pull together the money and work out some legal details. This all started with the near-bankruptcy of PAD and several interests who wanted to end the network and sell off its assets. But the shareholders will vote in a week or so, and with any luck we’ll be their best offer.” As a showman Reggie knew when he was losing his audience. “There’s a further possibility I hoped you’d like.”
Sarah spread her hands for him to continue. He watched her carefully, wanting to see her reaction.
“Ideally, any plan should serve more than one purpose. In addition to improving world infrastructure and protecting free communication, we have the chance to start our own mini-country. I thought, maybe you and I could move to PAD Island. It would give us a safe, independent place to live. I could use it as an umbrella organization for new NGOs. If you wanted to, we could even make it a safe haven for other teeps and teeks.”
Reggie had seen Sarah’s face begin to light up when she saw the possibilities. Then he’d seen it darken. He couldn’t bear a refrain of her recent silence, not now. Her eyes were down and she was picking at the blanket.
“What is it?”
Sarah didn’t speak. She sat, picking blanket fuzz with her fingers. When she spoke, her voice was high and sad.
“Reggie, I’m really glad you’ve made something good out of all this. I always knew you were the sort to make big things happen, and I’m glad following me to Thailand didn’t wreck that. But right now, I don’t know what sort of person I am, and I don’t think you do either.”
Reggie flashed back to when he’d righteously let Sarah leave at the end of their stint in India. Had their roles changed so completely and caught him unaware? “You’re the person I love. I want to help you reach your goals and to kiss away your worries.” He caught and kissed her hand, trying to charm her back into the mood, but her face stayed empty. “I want to buy you fanciful clothes and surprise you with chocolates and poetry. I want to carry you away to a tropical island and know you without the rest of the world.”
Sarah smiled, but the corners of her lips still turned down. “All my life, I’ve avoided being noticed, and just tried to do what I could along the way.”
Reggie reached out his hand again, but Sarah nudged it away without meeting his eyes, refusing to be interrupted. “Maybe I didn’t live up to my potential, but I told myself I did some good and very little harm. Ever since I went back to rescue the Chens, I’ve been acting like a superhero or something. And it was kind of a thrill, each time I succeeded, each time I survived. But what have I achieved? I torched a government building. I terrified an airplane’s crew. I damaged a truck and two helicopters, and cost one pilot his life. I’m lucky I didn’t get you or Emma or Aliana killed. And two governments and at least one of the Chens would probably be happy to see me dead, or worse. I can’t live this way. I can’t take these risks. I think I might lose my mind and then—then who knows what could happen.”
Reggie sat frozen. He hadn’t seen this coming. Did Sarah really feel so bad? Should he convince her to keep trying? Or could she really not handle their new lives? If he couldn’t tell whether she was saying no or just needed more time, then maybe he really didn’t know her as well as he thought. He saw his proposals, both the part about PAD Island and what he’d intended to say next, derailed.
Reggie looked down at the Johnson’s estate. The buildings with solar panels shone like water in the setting sun. The surrounding air was quickly cooling to a comfortable temperature for cuddling. Sarah sat beside him, silently picking at the blanket. Her dress was endearingly crooked on her shoulders.
Reggie could smell the remains of their chicken. There was no scent of Cracker Jacks. He’d sealed the bag with an iron when he snuck the ring into the prize packet.
“We don’t have to move to the island. I can live wherever you want and communicate by phone and email.”
“No Reggie. I’d be holding you back. I want to disappear. You want to change the world. I don’t think the two go together.”
“Don’t we go together?” Reggie asked, touching the hair at the nape of her neck and sliding his hand slowly down her back. “Can’t we keep finding ways to go together?”
“I don’t know,” she answered, looking away, looking like stone. He found his hand at rest on the blanket and didn’t know what to do with it, or what to do with himself. His father had always told him to trust his gut, and his gut told him he was losing Sarah.
They sat in silence for a moment, then gathered their picnic things and headed down the hill.
The PAD was ringing when Reggie stepped in the door. He kept hold of the basket, not wanting Sarah to unpack it and find the mystery box of Cracker Jacks. He picked up the phone, only planning to answer if it was important. The ID code showed it was Phil. Reggie glanced at Sarah. She shrugged, and he took the call.
“Reggie, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for an hour.”
“Sorry Phil. Sarah and I needed some time without the phone.”
“Wink, wink, nudge, nudge. But anyway, if this story is for real, it could be very good news for her. Some British attorney, a Mr. Radband, has been trying to contact Sarah about an inheritance—“
“British? I don’t think her mother ever went to Britain.”
“No, it’s about that guy she rescued when his car went off the road. Remember, we had a meeting here that night? Well, the solicitor didn’t say directly, but he hinted the inheritance was several million dollars.”
“What? Are you sure this is for real?”
“No, I’m not sure. That’s why I didn’t give him any information. But I said I’d ask Sarah to call him. Do you have something to write on?”
A week later, near the Bangkok airport, Reggie sat across from Sarah in the overdone lobby of an executive hotel. He wanted to be next to her, on a sofa, but she had deliberately chosen a chair. She was silent again. Since the picnic, he’d tried to show how much he cared for her, but each day she seemed to sit a little farther away.
Today he was wearing a suit and felt more like Sarah’s financial manager than anything else. First, she’d insisted he make arrangements with the attorney, who had offered to fly anywhere they specified to deliver his documents in person. So Reggie arranged this meeting. Then Sarah insisted that Emma and Aliana come along, in case the attorney was one kind of teep or the other. Howard had invited himself along, claiming that Sarah might need protection after what had happened in Chiang Mai.
So the rest of them sat shivering, underdressed for the over air-conditioned lobby, while Reggie sat stiffly in his suit, waiting to see if today would bring good fortune or intrigue.
The attorney had told them he’d wear a black bowler hat to make himself recognizable. But when Reggie saw the distinguished British gentleman enter the garish Thai lobby, he knew him at once, and the man had class. Reggie was glad to be wearing a good Italian suit. He felt his mother’s prim upper class manners cover him like armor, as he stepped forward to introduce himself.
But while he stood up gracefully, Sarah tugged herself out of an overstuffed hotel chair and said, “Mr. Radband?”
“Yes, Ms. Duncan, I presume?” Sarah nodded and they shook hands. She turned to introduce her friends. “This is Reggie Malone, who spoke with you on the phone. And these are my friends, Aliana, Emma, and Howard.”
“Indeed, I had not expected such a committee. Usually papers are presented in private.”
Sarah glanced around at her friends. Emma shook her head slightly; Reggie knew he would have noticed if the man was that kind of teep, but this meant he also couldn’t be read. Aliana gave a slight shrug, and Reggie wondered what the well-bred Brit was making of this display. But the solicitor stood placidly by, the model of patience without affront.
“I’d like Reggie present to look over the papers,” Sarah said, “The others won’t mind w
aiting.”
“As you wish. I’ve reserved a meeting room. Let me check in with the front desk.”
A moment later, the concierge showed them to a small room with a heavy oak table, not far from the lobby. Reggie and Sarah went in with the attorney. The other three stood guard outside.
“As I said on the phone, Ms. Sarah Duncan was named as the primary beneficiary for Mr. Daniel O’Reeley’s estate. Most of the assets were protected in a trust, but as you can see from this itemization, the after tax valuation as of yesterday was approximately eight million American dollars.” Mr. Radband passed a financial statement to Sarah. She glanced at the bottom number and handed it to Reggie. He tried to look professional and diligent as he studied it line by line.
“Mr. O’Reeley also instructed me to assist the executor for Mrs. Molly Duncan’s estate with papers necessary to conclude that probate. If you would sign these documents, those assets could be transferred in a few days. They total just under ninety thousand American dollars.”
Reggie glanced sideways at Sarah.
She smiled innocently and said, “When he gave me his car, I thought he might have trouble claiming mine. So I gave him Eva’s number thinking he could get paid for the car. He really didn’t act rich or anything.”
Reggie caught a distinct flash of amusement on the old Brit’s face and wondered what he knew of O’Reeley’s financial dissembling in life. But Reggie stuck to his role of studious financial advisor and sought clarification on matters of accounting and law related to the documents. Mr. Radband gave clear and well-informed answers, and Reggie concluded the deal was probably on the up and up. Sarah seemed remarkably unconcerned, swerving back and forth a little in her swivel chair.
Reggie said, “If I have my attorney, Phil Meyers, contact you, perhaps we could move this directly into a new trust in Sarah’s name?”
“That would be reasonable. Is Mr. Meyers familiar with international tax law and trusts?”
“He knows the business side well enough. I’m sure he’ll manage.”
“I was also asked to deliver this letter.” Mr. Radband produced a small cream envelope from his inside jacket pocket. He passed it to Sarah with the grace of a courtier. She slipped her finger under the back flap and opened it with a jagged tear.
“Do you know what this says?” Sarah asked Mr. Radband.
“I was informed.”
Sarah passed the card to Reggie. In it, Mr. O’Reeley wrote that his last request was for Sarah to use part of the inheritance to visit his childhood home of Killarney, Ireland. That was all.
“Can you explain why he wants me to visit Ireland or why he left all this to me?” Sarah asked Radband.
“I’m afraid not.”
With that, the solicitor rose, tapped papers into his briefcase, and took up his hat. In moments he was gone, headed straight back to London after less than an hour in Bangkok.
“What a schedule,” Sarah muttered as Reggie arranged her copies of the papers.
The two of them stood and rejoined their friends in the wide hallway off the lobby. Emma and Aliana rushed forward like curious puppies. Howard waited a few steps behind, hands behind his back, alert like a bodyguard.
“You think it’s fishy?” Sarah asked Reggie.
“The paperwork seems legitimate.”
“Anyone?” Sarah asked around.
The other’s shook their heads and shrugged.
“Well, why don’t I treat us all to lunch?”
Aliana ended up choosing the restaurant and directing the taxi. Sarah sat next to Reggie on the drive there and tried to convince him to take charge of the money and use it, if needed, for his new telecom venture. He tried to say he wouldn’t, but she didn’t seem to listen. Why was she so determined that his project succeed when she didn’t want any part in it herself? Was she trying to send him away?
At the restaurant, a sort of revolving saucer-style room atop one of Bangkok’s newest towers, there was a short wait while a table was prepared for the five of them. Sarah pulled Aliana aside, and Reggie took the opportunity to use the restroom and wash.
When he came back, Aliana and Sarah were still huddled together. Emma and Howard stood staring at them.
Reggie heard Emma say teasingly to Howard, “Don’t tell me you’re interested in her too!”
“How’d you know?”
“Everyone likes her.”
“Who’s everyone?” Howard chuckled.
“People who’ve known her a lot longer than you.”
“I knew her before she left the states.”
“What? Oh, her!”
“You thought—Oh, shit.”
Reggie could tell from where he stood that Howard was blushing. He would have ducked back toward the restroom to avoid embarrassing himself or Howard further, but at that moment Sarah caught sight of Reggie and motioned him over to her and Aliana.
“Reggie, I think I’ve got a great plan. I’ve asked Aliana to come with me to Ireland. There might be things she can learn there.”
Sarah spoke with rapid excitement, but Reggie was caught completely off guard. He’d assumed that if Sarah actually went to Ireland, they’d go together. He said only, “What?”
Sarah bit her lip and whispered even more quietly. “Well, I traded a bit of information to James to have him sequence some DNA, Aliana’s, but he didn’t know that. And it came out just like I knew it would. She has the teep predecessor genes, the ones he originally found in a British sample. And Aliana’s from Ireland, and what if there were other people there like her, and maybe some of them have their teep activated, and—”
Reggie absorbed the information quickly but was annoyed he hadn’t been told before. “You’re going to go looking for another set of them in Ireland after all you’ve been through? And you think the PAD deal is too dangerous for you?”
“I didn’t say it was too dangerous for me.” Sarah mumbled, shoving her hands into her pockets. “I can do this for O’Reeley and Aliana, and you can do your work. Aliana thinks she can get someone she knows to fly out for a vacation in Thailand, I’ll use that person’s passport to fly to Ireland safely, on a separate plane from Aliana. If I decide not to come back here, the other person will have to report the passport lost or whatever. But by then it’ll be harder to trace exactly where I am. Meanwhile, you can get safely out of the country to your new island and set all that up.”
“I could come with you. If you want to avoid PAD Island so badly, I’ll handle my part by phone.”
“No Reggie, I’ve been telling you all along, there are things you need to do. I don’t want to hold you back.”
Sarah’s reasoning made his head spin, as it had long ago. But he didn’t want to deal with what he’d heard Howard say or what he thought he saw when Aliana looked at his girlfriend. The fact that Aliana knew Sarah’s motives now, when he wasn’t at all sure, made it hard to be around them both. If Sarah wanted to go to Ireland without him, maybe she should go. Maybe she didn’t need him after all.
Chapter 22
June 30, 2025 – County Kilkenny, Ireland
Sarah took a deep breath of crisp, Irish air. Her shoulders pulled forward, her shoulder blades pressed out into the stretchy knit of her new striped sweater. She felt like a bird flexing her wings after long confinement in a cage.
She was perched, squatting, on a stone wall that might once have been a castle. Around her everything was green. It was the most consuming green she’d ever encountered, and she liked the damp, cleansing feel of it. So far, that green was what she felt of Ireland. She’d arrived yesterday, as a different person, with a new name and palm print. This morning she’d bought a cheap, old car and driven on the left side of the street until she was out of Dublin, away from people. There was a gnawing fear of people growing in her center. They felt like the opposite of green. Part of her didn’t want to meet Aliana this afternoon. Aliana could read her mind. Any person might be able to read her mind, or to hear a strange quiet. Any person might be try
ing to find her, to capture her, to use her, and she didn’t want to use her teek as a weapon, not even to defend herself.
Of course, telepaths were rare. Aliana was the only one so far who could reach Sarah’s mind, and she’d only been able to hear a couple others. But any person could be a threat. The rocks, the grass, the birds were not.
Sarah squatted on the stone wall until her legs ached. Then she unfolded and sat.
At five o’clock she drove into Kilkenny, where she’d promised to meet Aliana. Dressed more drably than Sarah had ever seen her, in a navy blue boat neck and jeans, Aliana stood waiting near the bus stop, luggage piled beside her. Jumping out of the car, Sarah gave her a hug, remembering how much she cared for her friend, even as her darker thoughts crowded around.
“I’m sorry,” Aliana whispered.
“I brought this on both of us. Let’s get your stuff in the car.”
Once they were driving, Sarah forced herself to talk, trying to control her thoughts. “How tired are you? Can we drive on through to Killarney?”
“Do you care if I fall asleep?”
“Not at all.”
“Then I’m yours to drive as you will.”
Sarah’s mood momentarily lightened. Then her mind drifted through twists on innuendo she didn’t want heard; so she tried to find something safe to think about that would let Aliana sleep. She started by trying to remember words to songs she’d learned as a child at summer camp. But soon one track of her mind was singing while another was saying what she wanted to avoid thinking about. She tried to remember which summer she’d first learned each song, which counselor had taught it, who she’d sat with when she sang it, how old she’d been, and what she’d understood. For a minute, maybe two, she kept her mind fully on course. Then one strand drifted to wondering if there had been any telepaths at camp. If she’d wrapped people there in her mental cocoons, would any of them have been able to read her mind? Might she have welcomed it then, just to not be alone? Or would she have become even more monstrous?