by Aisha Tritle
Now, Sophia’s interest piqued. Ingrid was of interest to her. The woman Jonathan had loved. The one he said was like her…
“What was Ingrid like?”
Saren fixed her green eyes on her. “I know why you’re curious.”
Sophia’s brow furrowed. What was she talking about? Saren was still too close. The hand on her shoulder seemed to be getting hotter and hotter.
“You’re wondering what kind of spectacular woman could entrap a man like Jonathan.”
Sophia nodded in relief. “Right.”
“I’ve thought about that a lot…” Saren’s voice drifted off. Her countenance darkened. She stared at the ocean as if it held the answer to life’s secrets.
Silence descended for a few minutes. Sophia occupied herself by burying her feet in the sand to escape the uncomfortable quiet.
“She was special,” spoke Saren, finally. “I don’t know why. I don’t know what it was about her. But we all loved her.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Maybe we all loved her too much. Jonathan was devastated when she died, “ her voice went quiet. “And so was I.”
The solemn tone of Saren’s voice left Sophia wondering if she should ask any more questions.
Saren cleared her throat and smiled at Sophia. “So, are you excited?”
A swift change of subject. Sophia bit her lip. No more questions about Ingrid. “Excited about what?”
“Tokyo.”
Was she excited? In a way. But Sophia could barely acknowledge it when there was so much at stake.
“Honestly, I’m nervous,” she said. “I’m glad we’re dealing with Norbert once and for all. But—“ she paused “I’m scared.”
Saren leaned in. “I know,” she said, sympathetically.
“Why aren’t you coming with us?” asked Sophia—not that she wanted Saren to come, but she wondered why Jonathan hadn’t invited her to join when the woman’s talents would no doubt be useful. Extremely useful.
“I have a job,” said Saren.
Sophia raised her eyebrows. “A job?”
Saren fixed her gaze on Sophia, a bemused glint in her green eyes. “A job,” she said. “Haven’t you noticed Yasuo’s absence?”
Sophia sat in guilty silence. She had noticed Yasuo’s absence over the past few days, but she hadn’t felt particularly inclined to ask anybody where he was.
“We function as a two-person unit now. He’s gone to scout and set up some things. I’ll be flying out to join him tomorrow afternoon.”
“Where are you going?”
“Switzerland.”
Sophia caught her breath. “That’s where—“
“Where Ingrid was killed,” finished Saren. “Yes.” Suddenly, her voice sounded weary.
Sophia clamped her mouth shut. It seemed that to press for information on Ingrid would be crossing a line.
“What do you think of Jonathan?”
Almost everything out of Saren’s mouth was a surprise. Sophia in drew a quick breath. “I don’t really know much about him.”
“Compared with most people, you know heaps about Jonathan,” said Saren. “But with him, there’s so much to know that you barely scratch the surface.”
The woman’s raw attitude felt foreign to Sophia. She half enjoyed it and half feared it.
“Right,” she said.
“Still,” said Saren. “You know enough to have formed an opinion.”
Sophia didn’t answer.
“Go on,” pushed Saren.
Sophia took a minute to gather her thoughts. She pressed her limbs into the sand, covering herself in the warmth. “He’s stronger than he looks,” she said. “And he’s better than he seems to be.”
“Is that all?”
It wasn’t. Realization dawned on Sophia. “I can trust him with my life.”
A warm smile crossed Saren’s face. She stood up. “Remember that. Always remember that. You’ll need to.”
And with that, she was gone.
26
“Are we almost there?”
Sophia winced at the sound of Ilya’s voice. He’d asked the same question at least five times in the past twenty minutes.
“No,” Jonathan growled from the driver’s seat of the van.
Ilya sighed and shifted unhappily in his seat. He rolled the window down a few inches and stuck his hand out. He’d been acting like a whiny child all morning.
Sophia studied him from the shelter of a blanket and pillow. “What? Are you gonna be sick or something?” she asked.
Ilya shook his head.
“Do you have to use the restroom?”
“No.”
Ilya rolled up the window and crossed his arms.
“We’ll be there in ten minutes,” said Jonathan.
Ilya didn’t reply.
Jonathan’s green eyes shot a glance back at Ilya through the rear view mirror. “Ilya, did you hear?”
“Yeah, I heard.”
Sophia looked out the window. They’d just entered Tokyo. Even though they’d chosen a small van, the narrow streets made it feel like they were traveling in a submarine. They were heading to a condominium a few miles away from the hotel.
“Whose place did you say it was again?” asked Ilya.
“Close enough to the scene of action, but far enough to be outside the radius of intense surveillance,” Jonathan had said.
He’d also said the condominium belonged to “a friend.” He wouldn’t say anything else.
Sophia wasn’t surprised; Jonathan had his secrets. She wouldn’t press him to tell her who the “friend” was. But it only served to irritate Ilya; he wouldn’t let it go.
“It belongs to a friend,” replied Jonathan wearily.
Ilya leaned forward and put his hand on the shoulder of the passenger seat. “Who’s this friend?” he asked, his face inches away from Jonathan’s.
“You don’t need to know.”
“Just tell us.”
“Look,” snapped Jonathan. “If you needed to know, I’d have told you already. It’s none of your business. So sit back, get your breath out of my face, and shut up.”
Ilya pushed back into his seat with a loud thud. Sophia could feel his gaze burning into her. She turned to look at him.
“This doesn’t sit right,” he whispered.
Sophia shrugged her shoulders. She didn’t understand why Ilya was so bothered. Why did the tension between him and Jonathan always escalate?
They sat in silence, as they often did, for the rest of the way. Polished skyscrapers, bright storefronts, and karaoke bars flowed past on either side.
An opaque glass condominium appeared on the right side, and Jonathan pulled into the garage below. As soon as they parked, Sophia tumbled out of the vehicle, eager to stretch her legs.
Rows of expensive sports cars and luxury vehicles lined the garage. The collection of Aston Martin, Tesla, Maserati, and Lotus made their van looked miserably out of place.
Ilya pulled Sophia’s duffel bag out of the back and slung it over his shoulder.
“I can take that,” she protested.
Ilya slammed the door down. “No, it’s fine.”
A grim expression crossed Jonathan’s face. “I didn’t grab my bag yet.”
Ilya began to walk towards the elevator. “Oh well,” he said.
Sophia looked after him. Something was wrong with Ilya. But what? She waited for Jonathan.
With a frustrated exhale, Jonathan opened the back of the car. “I don’t know what’s wrong with that boy today,” he muttered, pulling out his bag.
Ilya leaned against the elevator, his left hand casually resting in his pocket. His blond hair fell across his forehead, his slouch reminiscent of a 60s movie star. Before, Sophia’s attention would have been glued to him, but she didn’t care anymore.
“Did you figure out that you need a key to use the elevator?” asked Jonathan, a tinge of contempt coloring his voice as he held up a smooth, white card.
A frown crumpled Ilya’
s brow. He scoffed—and stepped aside. His blue eyes kept burning into Sophia.
She rubbed her forehead. Over the past few days, he just hadn’t stopped staring.
Jonathan inserted the key card and the doors slid open. As they all stepped in, he pressed the button for Floor 23. Even the elevator looked high-class. It had the same opaque glass façade as the exterior of the building.
“I hate heights,” said Ilya.
“So don’t look out the windows when we get there, then,” answered Jonathan.
Sophia threw her hands up, tired of both of them trying her patience. “Could you two just take it easy, please?”
Ilya groaned. Jonathan fixed him with an icy stare. A ring resounded through the elevator, and the doors slid open.
Sophia gasped. A beautiful cityscape circled the apartment, brought into view through the glass walls. Even Ilya couldn’t hide his awe. His blue eyes widened, his mouth fell open.
Jonathan set his bag down on a smooth L-shaped couch that filled most of the living room. Turning around, he smiled. “What do you think?”
Sophia walked to the window. “Pretty damn cool.”
Ilya quickly wiped the admiration off his face. He dropped the bags and headed into the kitchen. “I need some water.”
Jonathan lightly tapped Sophia. “How are you feeling?”
“Nervous,” she breathed, still gazing out the window.
“Yeah, well, that’s all a part of it,” said Jonathan. “In the end, it’ll help you perform better.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Jonathan leaned back and surveyed the kitchen. “Ilya, you doing alright?”
No reply, as was the norm today. But this time, Jonathan’s face froze; his green eyes narrowed into slits. His polished dress shoes echoed loudly on the hardwood floor as he strode to the kitchen.
Sophia turned her head. Ilya stood with his back to her, staring at the…fridge?
Without a word, Jonathan slipped in front of him and tore something off the stainless steel surface. Sophia couldn’t see what it was. But the ripping sound she heard left no doubt that he’d just pulled down a piece of paper. Or a picture. Whatever it was, he put it in his pocket.
The two men tensely eyed each other.
“Ilya, could you help me get the rest of the supplies from the van?” asked Jonathan. But every word he spoke was stilted.
Ilya’s shoulders rose and fell rapidly. His nostrils flared. Sophia groaned. What was up with him today?
She stepped forward. “I can help you get the supplies from the van.”
“No, it’s quite alright, Sophia,” said Jonathan, his gaze not wavering from Ilya. “Ilya will help.”
A few seconds of silence followed. Jonathan drew a deep breath as if to calm himself. “Won’t you, Ilya?”
“Sure,” replied Ilya, his face and voice sullen.
Jonathan waved Sophia off. “We’ll be back in a few minutes.”
It took more than a few minutes. Sophia laid down on the sofa, wondering when they would be back. Had they gone somewhere? No, there was something to resolve, whatever had happened in front of the fridge.
Such a bother, these two men.
“So dramatic,” murmured Sophia.
The off-white ceiling was too bright. Closing her eyes, she estimated they’d been gone for at least ten minutes. She jumped off the sofa. Might as well use the time wisely.
The simple layout of the condominium was deceptively open. Sophia glanced in each of the four bedrooms. They all looked the same: spacious, queen-sized bed, smooth gray sheets, and black wood furnishings. Except for one.
All manners of drawers and cabinets lined the last bedroom. Intrigued, Sophia walked in.
The cabinets all had small black screens in the bottom right corner. Sophia knew what they were. The cabinets were fingerprint protected.
But the drawers weren’t.
Sophia pulled them open and found guns, knives, swords, and an amazing variety of gadgets. It reminded her of the weapons and tool room of the chateau in Nantes. It seemed so long ago that she and Ilya had stayed there…
The sound of the front door clicking open brought her back to the present. Quietly, she shut the drawers and pulled the bedroom door closed behind her. She ambled back into the living room, trying not to give any indication of her exploration. Before she knew what was happening, two scrawny arms wrapped around her in a hug.
“Oh, it’s so good to see you!” cried Benny.
His beard bristled uncomfortably against Sophia’s ear and cheek.
“It’s good to see you, too,” she said, subtly trying to escape his grasp.
Benny stepped back and rubbed his hands together. “Isn’t this exciting?”
Her unenthusiastic silence didn’t discourage him.
“Hey, hey, Jonathan. Isn’t this exciting?”
Jonathan and Ilya were engaged in another tense staring match. But something else had crept into Jonathan’s eyes. Was it fear?
Ilya stood next to a pile of heavy-duty black plastic containers they’d brought in. His hands were in his pockets. For the first time in a while, he avoided Sophia’s gaze. Instead, his blue eyes shifted from Jonathan to Benny—and back again. He looked as if the air didn’t hold enough oxygen for him. His cheeks were red. Sophia worried about the safety of the walls if his fists landed there.
The apathy she felt about the standoff between Ilya and Jonathan started to fade…
There really was something wrong.
“It’s deathly exciting,” mumbled Ilya, his voice flat.
Yet, Benny’s enthusiasm still didn’t dim. He wandered around, scanning the apartment. “This is great, this is great…”
He explored all the bedrooms, disappearing into them one by one. Jonathan didn’t seem to mind. Sophia raised her eyebrows. Maybe exploring was allowed.
But without Benny’s unreserved enthusiasm, the air was tense.
Jonathan cleared his throat. “Is anybody hungry?”
He looked hopefully at Sophia to break the awkward stillness.
“Uh, no,” she stammered. “No, I’m good.”
“How about you, Ilya?”
Ilya’s hand was covering his eyes. “No.”
Something was really wrong. Sophia took a step towards Ilya, but he took a step back.
“I need to go for a walk,” he said.
Jonathan scoffed. “A walk? Are you daft?”
“I need to get out of here.”
“You can’t leave, Ilya. They have eyes everywhere.”
Ilya brought his hand down from his face. “So I’ll go in the opposite direction of the hotel, wear a hat, avoid the cameras!” he exclaimed, his voice rising to an angry yell. “I’ve been trained to be invisible. I need to get out. I just can’t be here right now.”
Jonathan’s shoulders went back; his chest puffed out. He looked like a father trying to wield authority over his son. “To go anywhere out of this building you need the key card. And I won’t give it to you.”
“Do you think I’m stupid?” sneered Ilya. “I don’t need the key to go down in the elevator and exit.”
“I don’t know,” said Jonathan. “Are you stupid? How do you plan on getting back in?”
Sophia stifled a laugh. The animosity between the two men was ridiculous. But the silence that followed bugged her. She stepped in between them. Time to change the subject.“You know what? I actually am hungry.”
Jonathan gratefully took her cue and turned to the kitchen. “There should be a pretty good selection,” he said, striding to the refrigerator.
A disgruntled sigh from Ilya met Sophia’s ears.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
Ilya walked past her and muttered, “Everything’s fine.”
“We have an interesting selection,” said Jonathan. “Caviar, pizza, crepes, steak, and beer.”
“How about we toast the pizza?” asked Sophia, setting herself down at the kitchen island.
“Alrigh
t,” said Jonathan, pulling the box out.
He turned around and bumped into Ilya. “Shit. Why are you standing so close?” Exasperation covered Jonathan’s face.
“Sorry,” mumbled Ilya.
He moved out of the way and Jonathan shook his head as he shouldered his way past.
“Where’s the bathroom?” asked Ilya.
“Just past the second bedroom, on the left,” answered Jonathan. It sounded as if every word he spoke to Ilya took an effort not to develop into a yell.
“Thanks.”
As soon as Ilya left, Jonathan pulled his hand over his face with a frustrated exhale.
“What’s going on?” asked Sophia, trying not to sound too interested.
“Ilya’s just having second thoughts about the plan,” said Jonathan in an offhand manner, but she knew it wasn’t the truth.
“What’s he worried about?”
“Everything.”
Sophia wouldn’t press anymore. She knew the truth would come out eventually. “I see.”
Suddenly, Jonathan’s eyes widened. He searched his pockets. “No, no, no.”
He rushed in the direction Ilya had gone.
Sophia’s stomach dropped. Jonathan’s reaction could only mean one thing…
He came back into view; his expression was a mix of anger and panic. “He took the key.”
27
Sophia brushed her newly-dyed honey-blond strands out of her face.
“Slip these in your cheeks. Make sure they’re lodged firmly past your gumline,” said Jonathan, handing her two small silicon pads.
Sophie obediently slipped them in. They weren’t as uncomfortable as she had expected. She pulled her earbuds out and shook her head to relax her ears. She had spent the past two hours listening to an instructional Standard British dialect program.
Jonathan put his hands on her shoulders, his green eyes firmly fixed on her. Sophia quivered a little under his grasp.
“Perfect,” he said. “Come on.”
He led her out into the living room. The sight that greeted her did nothing to abate her unease. Ilya was pacing back and forth, his cheeks flushed, and Benny was doing the same. The two men stopped and stared at Sophia.