He swallowed. “Yes.”
“It was just a kiss, Warren. Don’t over think it.”
His gaze met hers. “No, it wasn’t. Not even for you.”
He turned before she could respond and went back to the packs. “It’s daylight,” he said shortly. “We should move into the trees.” His voice was dead.
[16]
Somewhere in Montana, and the Atlas Mountains, Morocco.
When the fire was burning hard once more, Scott wrapped the plaid blanket back around his shoulders and settled in the armchair behind the table. He’d sawn off the bottom of the table legs so it was the right height for working at when sitting in the armchair.
The dark net text app was a bare-bones program bereft of color and sexy special effects. The black screen had white text and a message window. Even the ID of the person on the other end of the chat wasn’t displayed. Cute comic-style speech bubbles did not pop up.
It got the job done.
Lea’s question hung on the screen patiently.
Can you tell me where you are?
Scott dropped a photo of the mountain his cabin was sitting on into the chat. It didn’t display on the screen. Only the file name showed.
Another jpeg file popped up, with numbers for the name.
Scott opened it. The jagged, snow-wreathed peaks were awe-inspiring.
Beneath, Lea typed:
Mine’s bigger than yours.
Scott would have laughed, except that nothing seemed funny right now, and hadn’t since the worst of the withdrawals had kicked in. He picked up the towel on the arm of the chair and wiped his sweaty face. The temperature in the little cabin was equivalent to the Gobi Desert in summer. He would keep it that way until he was clean.
Scott didn’t recognize the anonymous peaks in Lea’s photo, but he could extrapolate from them and Lea’s last known location and guessed Lea had run to the Atlas Mountains, on the border between Morocco and Algeria.
So…what’s up? Lea asked.
Scott cracked the seal on another bottle of water and drained half, while he composed his reply in his head. He typed.
Found email from Leela to Lochan, telling him to meet her by the Christmas tree. Right IP address.
He waited, knowing Leander would have to think that one through. It was a poser, for sure.
Don’t believe it.
Scott nodded. He didn’t believe it, either. He typed again.
Or don’t want to?
While waiting for Lea’s answer, he put his face up toward the window where the weak winter sunshine poured through the glass, warming him as much as the fire did. He didn’t mind waiting for Leander to sort it out. He had time, right now, and this was keeping him distracted.
Any basic hacker could fake it.
Scott had basic hacking skills and knew it wasn’t that simple. It was possible, though.
Misdirection? he suggested.
Confusion. Pointing at each other. Lack of trust = lack of cohesion. Hampers us.
Leander the profiler. He was likely right. Or… Scott typed with one hand, shivering beneath the blanket.
Or it really is her.
Leander didn’t have an answer for that.
The Isère laid three hours behind them and the sun dappled the ground beneath their feet, when Cain halted, a boot on a fallen tree. “We should stop somewhere. Sleep the day out.”
Agata slid her thumbs under the straps of her pack, easing the strain on her shoulders. “I’m not tired.”
“You’re running on fumes, Kelsey. Food, sleep. Water. Then we move on. It’ll time us so we arrive at night.”
They were aiming for a small town north-east of La Richonnière, Cognin-les-Gorges. Cain had suggested it. “There is a pass we can use which starts there,” he’d said.
Agata had studied the map and there did appear to be a route through the mountains there.
Now she considered Cain’s prescription of food, sleep and water. She didn’t want to pass through the town during the day, when they would be noticed. They could slide through at night and leave no impression for Zima to pick up.
Reluctantly, she nodded. “Here?” She looked around. Everything looked the same to her. Trees, soil, weeds. A few drifts of snow, although the ground was not covered yet.
“Why not?” His voice was dry. He dropped his pack to the ground and unstrapped the sleeping bag and ground sheet.
Agata copied him. She picked a spot as far away from him as the ground between the trees would allow, cleared it of the worst of the rocks and branches and spread her bag. They would not risk an open fire, not this close to civilization. She had freeze dried meals in her pack which were not terrible to eat cold and straight out of the pack.
She settled on the bag cross-legged and dug out the food and tossed one to Cain. In return, he threw a bottle of water to her.
Agata ate and drank steadily, not letting herself think beyond the need to sleep. Not with Cain sitting right before her.
She realized Cain was not sitting with the stillness of a man tired from walking and lack of sleep. He fidgeted.
Agata watched him, her wariness growing. She put the dried ice cream aside and brushed off her hand. “What on earth could trigger you into cravings, here in the middle of nowhere?” she demanded. “You should be asleep on your feet.”
Cain let out a deep sigh and shoved his hand through his hair. His gaze was bleak and direct. “You, Kelsey.”
Shock slithered through her. Agata thought up and discarded a dozen different responses. You need sex that bad? I’m that objectionable you have to dither yourself into a binge to avoid touching me? None of them were fair to him, or the truth. Cain had been short on truth for a long while. Years.
She met his gaze. “So, let’s talk it out.”
Cain’s brow lifted. “No.” He looked away. “No,” he repeated, his tone firm.
“Yes.” Agata picked up the ice cream, which was more-ish. She let her shoulders relax and made her tone casual. “Shall I go first?”
Cain gave a hiss of irritation. “Talking doesn’t solve everything, Kelsey.”
“It solves a shit ton more than you give it credit for.”
“I’ve got by just fine for two years without talking,” Cain pointed out.
“Who are you kidding?” Agata lowered the ice cream. “You’ve been fucking miserable for two years! I didn’t see you smile even once since I met you. Not once, until this morning. And I’m not counting that fake-syrup thing in Paris.”
“A momentary aberration. I’m over it now.”
Agata’s jaw unhinged. “Is that a joke?” she breathed.
“No.” Cain ruffled his hair once more. “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know, okay?” He picked up the foil meal pack and picked a morsel from it.
Agata considered him. “In engineering terms, I’d say you were stripping gears because you’re running the engine too hard.”
He rolled his eyes.
“Look.” She rested her hands on her knees. “Brass tacks, okay? I don’t flinch at much. I can take it. Better than having you steam up the forest with your bad mood and fucking up my concentration.”
He considered her. “You’re bent on dragging this out, aren’t you?”
“Fuck, yes.” She gave him a stiff smile. “You started it. I think you really want to spit it out.”
He considered her.
“You think you’re a bad, bad person,” she added. “You think you shouldn’t get the luxury of sharing your burdens with anyone. That you have to pay and keep paying for sins you’re not even sure are yours in the first place. I get it. Only, while you’re doing penance by swimming in misery, you’re tripping me up. You wanna come out alive at the other end of this, you have to offload all the crap clogging up your brain, so you’re at least a contributing member of this venture. Get it?”
Cain pressed his lips together. “That’s a neat piece of logic designed to make me talk, isn’t it?”
“Doesn’t matter
,” Agata said, her tone bland. “For more reasons than neat logic, you need to spill your guts. I didn’t melt when you told me about New York. The worst is out, already. So, spill.”
He threaded his fingers together and squeezed them. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while. Now I can’t stop thinking about it.”
She dropped her gaze to her hands, then realized her reaction would discourage him. She made herself meet his eyes. “It’s not just about sex, anymore.”
His jaw worked. “No.” His voice was low.
Agata cleared her throat. Her heart was strumming. “Only, you don’t think you deserve more than just sex.”
He sighed. “I don’t think I’ve actually put it into words, even in my own head.”
“Which is a shocker. You’ve cultivated self-awareness. You can contemplate evil without flinching. But not this.”
His shoulders lifted in a tiny shrug. “You said it, Kelsey. I’m a miserable human being. I figured I’d had my chance at normal, good stuff like relationships and intimacy, and blew that chance so spectacularly, I shouldn’t ever expect a second one.”
Agata didn’t tell him everyone deserved a second chance, because it wasn’t true. Not everyone deserved a break. There were some true, hell-spawned monsters roaming the world wearing human faces, who should never be given a chance at all.
Cain was putting himself among their ranks.
“Only, Kelsey, you’ve stopped looking at me as if I’m the scum of the earth,” Cain added, his voice low. “I don’t know when it changed, but it did. When you look at me as though I’m human, and…” He let out a breath. “And, maybe, even likeable…when you look at me that way, it makes me wonder if it might even be possible.”
Agata let out her breath. “It is possible.”
He actually flinched.
Agata put her hands together, mirroring him. “I’d like to find out where you and I might go…but I gotta admit, Cain, I don’t enjoy being around you when you’re in your sub-human mode, which has been most of the last seven months. Only, I don’t believe that’s the real you. I suspect the real you is suppressed, not just because you think he shouldn’t be allowed out, but because the real you has never been given oxygen. You’d been under intense pressure your entire life. First the Olympics, then proving you weren’t a failure, and after that, proving you were a failure and the very worst type of failure you could be, in New York. And now, years of mental withdrawal from everything but the most superficial connections with the rest of the world. It takes effort to be that disconnected. It takes energy. I think you believe that if your pain and punishment are severe enough, it will prove you really are as bad as you suspect you might be. Only, now you’ve been shaken out of the rut and that’s why you’re looking at me and wondering what is true.”
Cain’s gaze didn’t shift from her face. He didn’t move. She wasn’t sure he was even breathing.
Agata’s heart strummed far too fast. There was six feet between her and Cain. It felt like six inches. Less.
“Do I want you?” Her tone emerged remote, disconnected from her pulsing body. “Yes, I do. But not if you can’t find a way out of the morass holding you back. When you’re ready…when you truly believe you deserve happiness, then I’ll be here.”
“You will?” His voice was hoarse.
“I like you, Cain. I like the real you that you’ve let me glimpse. I really hope you do find a way to me.”
His gaze held her immobile. She felt as though she was drowning in the inky warmth of his eyes.
“What if you’re wrong about me?” he whispered.
Her heart jumped and squeezed and hurried on. “I’m not.” Then, deliberately, she pushed her pack aside, took off her boots and climbed into the sleeping bag and closed her eyes.
Cain had stopped fidgeting.
Only, what if she was wrong about him? The whisper followed her down into sleep, despite her best efforts to dismiss it.
Somewhere in Virginia.
That morning, Lochan walked the quarter-mile to the mailbox and back. There was no mail, for no one knew they were here. The walk was pleasant, though. Slow, but fine.
Leela waited on the verandah as he wearily climbed the two steps. She held a plate with a cup cake, loaded with chocolate icing. A single birthday candle burned in the middle.
“Congratulations,” she said, holding out the cake. Her fine blue eyes behind the glasses were warm. She knew how much he hated being ill or slowed down, or worse, helpless.
“I’d blow it out, except I’m completely out of breath.” Lochan kissed her, instead.
Before his lips could reach hers, she looked down and held up her other hand. “Careful, you’ll smear frosting on your coat.”
He kissed her cheek, instead, and took the cupcake. “I intend to eat every crumb. Screw the calories.”
“The sugar will get you if the calories don’t.” She gave him a small smile. “I’m freezing.” She pulled the coat in tighter and opened the screen door for him.
They moved into the old farmhouse. The big room at the front had a stone fireplace on the north side, and the original antebellum windows in the south end. There was even a rocker by the fireplace and rag rugs on the floor. Lochan had no idea how Leela had found the place. He didn’t want to know.
Leela bent to put her fingers close to the old iron kettle hanging over the fireplace. She pushed the swing arm, so the kettle sat over the flames. “I can make tea, too.”
“No, not now.” Lochan put the cake aside.
She straightened. Looked around. “I should take a run into town. The fresh stuff is low—”
“Leela, stop.”
Her fingers curled tightly beside her thighs. She didn’t look at him.
“You slept on the couch last night,” Lochan pointed out. There was only one bedroom and one bed, which was plenty big enough for two people, if they didn’t mind rubbing against each other. He had no objections to cuddling Leela at any time.
“I didn’t want to disturb your sleep.” Her voice was stiff.
“You didn’t mind disturbing my sleep the first couple of nights,” he pointed out. “It seems to me that the more I recover, the further you drift away. What is going on, Leela?”
She still didn’t look at him. Her fingers twined in her black hair. “We can talk later.”
“Now,” he replied.
“Now isn’t the best time.”
“Now is the only time anyone gets.”
Her gaze shifted to his face. “I don’t want to do this, but I must.”
“Do what?” His heart squeezed with more than the stress of the walk he’d just taken.
“Leave you,” she whispered.
This time, his heart didn’t squeeze. It slammed against his chest. He sank onto the spindle chair beside the table, his breath shortening as if he’d done the half mile all over again. He rested his head on his hand, his fingers digging into his temple. “Why?” he croaked.
Her eyes were glittering with unshed tears and that impacted him, too. “I can’t stand this agony,” she whispered. “I don’t know how you got through it, in Austria. When it’s the other way around, when it’s you, it’s…terrifying. I couldn’t come to you in the hospital and it drove me crazy. You don’t know how much it hurts me, every time you wince, or sit down suddenly, like you just did.”
She used a knuckle to wipe at her cheeks, getting rid of the evidence. “I can’t stand it, Lochan. I won’t stand it. If I’m not here, if I’m not around, then I won’t have to go through having two suits and a folded flag turn up on my doorstep.”
Lochan took his time to breathe away the adrenaline. Calm descended, while he watched her trembling by the hearth. “Too late,” he told her.
It was rare for her to not understand, especially when it was something he had said. “What’s too late?” Her brow furrowed.
“It’s too late for you to leave.” He dropped his hand and sat up. “Even if you left now, it wouldn’t change anythin
g. It wouldn’t change how I feel, or how you feel.”
“I’d get over you,” she assured him.
Lochan smiled. “I’m the only one you can’t lie to with a straight face, my love.”
She shook her head. Denial.
“Even if you had been in Timbuktu when the bomb went off, it wouldn’t have changed anything. I would have been beside it, whether you were with me or not. You might as well strap in, Leela, and get used to it, because I love you. If I’m to die next to a bomber, or in my bed of extreme old age, I want the last day of my life to have you in it.”
Leela wept silently.
Lochan reached for her hand and caught it. Just. He tugged her closer, until he could get his hands on her hips and put her on his lap. He put her glasses on the table, and kissed her.
Then she buried her face against his neck. Warmth and the salty dampness of her tears pressed against his flesh.
“Marry me,” he breathed.
Her arms tightened. “You said ‘strap in’, not ‘get hitched’.”
“Question still stands.”
“Asked and answered.” She kissed him.
Cognin-les-Gorges, Isère, France.
They walked down the middle of the silent, still main street of the village. It was two a.m. and snowing heavily enough that in an hour, maybe less, their boot prints would be obliterated.
A sliver of new moon shone on the snow, giving them more than enough light to see their way.
Cain took the phone and played with Google Maps until he spotted what he was looking for. He guided them through the town, to a secondary road which led directly into the mountains.
“That’s the pass road?”
“It’s not exactly a pass road.” He sounded apologetic.
Agata’s pulse jumped. “What is it, then?”
He hesitated. “A balcony road.”
She had heard of them before and had seen pictures of some of the most extreme of them. They were roads which clung to the sides of mountains, just like balconies, with nothing but hundreds of feet of air between the edge and the bottom of the mountain.
Inside Man Page 16