For the first time that evening, he could feel sleep hanging behind his eyes. As he had hoped, getting out and doing some work had helped him to relax. Now, maybe, he could get a few hours’ rest before he met up with Wills.
When the guard disappeared around the side of the building, Quinn slipped out of his hiding place and returned down the street the way he’d come. At the end of the block, he took a look back at the building.
Easy.
Too easy.
Chapter 24
Nate had assumed Liz would lose interest in him the moment Quinn was gone. And for a while she did disappear into the back of the apartment. When she finally came out, he was sure she was going to suggest it might actually be better if he did stay in a hostel, but instead, she said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry. You up for some lunch?”
“Oh, don’t go to any trouble for me,” Nate said. He was still sitting on the couch.
“Who’s going to any trouble?” she asked as she walked over to the entryway, then opened a closet door. “We’ll pick up something on the way.”
Nate stood up slowly, confused. “On the way where?”
She pulled out a coat. “Nickel tour of Paris, of course. Unless you have something better to do.”
“Don’t you have to go to school or something?”
“Done for the day. So are you coming or not?”
“I don’t want to put you out.”
“God, are you always this difficult? Relax. Someone offers to show you Paris, you say yes.”
“Okay.” He smiled. “Yes.”
He shot Julien a text update from the bathroom before they left, then bundled up and followed Liz out into the city.
She helped him to buy a Métro pass, then they took the train to Saint-Michel. A half block away was the Seine, and just on the other side was the Île de la Cité and the Notre Dame Cathedral.
“You’ve come at a good time of year,” she said. “Hardly any tourists.”
Nate nodded, then took a step toward the cathedral.
But Liz grabbed his arm and stopped him. “Come on. Back on the Métro.”
“We’re not going to go take a look inside?” he asked.
“You’re here a week, right? I’m giving you the overview so you have an idea where things are and can come back when you want.”
Nate laughed. “Overview, it is. Lead on.”
As they walked back to the Saint-Michel Métro station, Nate caught a glimpse of Julien standing in line at a patisserie. When the big man glanced at him, Nate said to Liz, “Which way?”
“Over there.” She pointed at the Métro entrance. “Same one we used before.”
“Right. Sorry, wasn’t paying attention when we came out.”
He glanced quickly in Julien’s direction. The Frenchman had gotten the message and was headed toward the subway.
It was the tour most locals would give to friends from out of town. The Louvre Museum, Montmartre and the Basilique du Sacré-Cæur, the Eiffel Tower, and finally the Arc de Triomphe and the Champs-Élysées. The only place they actually spent any time at was the Champs-Élysées. There they strolled down the famous street, looking at the shops and restaurants.
“How about a coffee or something?” Nate suggested. “My treat.”
“You’re on,” she said, smiling. She pulled him by the arm over to the nearest café.
A couple of hours earlier, the gesture might have been surprising, but now it seemed almost natural. She had been laughing easily at his jokes, teasing him whenever he attempted to pronounce the names on the street signs, and a few times glancing at him when she thought he wouldn’t notice.
If nothing else, Nate decided, she was at least enjoying his company.
The café was one of those places that spilled out onto the sidewalk even in the fall. In deference to the weather, a cloth and plastic awning complete with front and side walls jutted out from the building, claiming a portion of concrete. Inside, heaters kept the customers warm.
A waiter looked over as they walked in. He was balding, with a close-cropped rim of dark hair. “Deux?”
“Oui,” Liz said.
He pointed at a small round table. It had been set up in a row with several others. Each had two chairs, both on the same side of the table, so customers could watch people walk by.
Nate and Liz sat down, and soon the waiter returned, looking at them expectantly.
“You want some coffee, or something a little stronger?” Liz asked Nate.
“What are you having?”
“I was thinking about a glass of wine.”
“Sounds good to me.”
She ordered two glasses of Château Cos d’Estournel Saint-Estèphe Bordeaux.
“Anything else?” the waiter asked in English.
“Non, c’est tout, merci,” Liz said.
The waiter gave her a halfhearted smile, then left.
“I don’t think he likes us,” Nate said.
“This part of town, they think Americans only really know English.”
“But you speak excellent French.”
She smiled. “Thanks. I’d better. Three years in high school. Four years of undergrad. And two years here already. Oh, and I had a French boyfriend for a while, too.”
“In Paris?”
“No, back at Michigan State,” she said.
“What about now? No French boyfriend?”
She blurted out a laugh. “Not with my schedule.”
“You can’t be studying all the time,” he said.
“Wait until you start grad school. Then think what it would be like to write all your papers in two languages.”
“Seriously?”
“I think better in English, so it’s easier to write that way first. Then I have to translate it, and make sure it reads correctly.”
“Sounds like a pain in the ass. I’d pay someone to do the translation for me.”
“That would mean I had extra money lying around.”
Nate realized he’d stumbled into an area he really hadn’t meant to get into. Quinn had told him about the scholarship, but there was no way Andrew Cain would have that information. He decided to go with a more innocent approach. “How much do they cost?”
She looked at him, one eyebrow raised. “Why? You going to pay for it for me?”
He laughed. “That would be a big no. I’m probably just as poor as you.”
“But your father sounds like he has a bit of cash.”
“He might, but I don’t. He made it very clear as I was growing up that I wasn’t getting any kind of free ride.”
“Good for him.”
Nate felt a sense of relief as the waiter approached with their drinks.
After that the conversation turned back to the safer topic of life in Paris.
Before they realized it, it was starting to get dark. At Liz’s suggestion, they headed to the Latin Quarter to get some dinner.
The area was a maze of narrow cobbled streets closed off to most traffic and reserved, instead, for pedestrians. Along each road, restaurants and clubs vied for space and customers, some using touts and others lights and aromas.
Liz chose a cozy place that was about five times longer than it was wide. There they shared a cheese fondue and a bottle of wine.
By the time they got home it was after 9 p.m. Nate excused himself to use the bathroom, where he shot off two quick texts. Both were basically the same. To Quinn he wrote:
In for the night. All clear here.
And to Julien:
Done 4 today. Bed soon.
As Nate washed his hands, his phone buzzed once in his pocket. On the screen was a reply from Julien.
What? No late-night disco?
Nate texted back:
If you’re up for it, I can suggest it.
A few seconds later, Julien responded:
Do it.
Nate smiled, then tapped in one last message:
Good night, Julien.
When he ret
urned to the living room, he half expected Liz to have already gone to bed. But she was sitting on the couch, an open bottle of wine and two glasses on the coffee table in front of her.
He joined her, sitting near but not too close. She poured wine into both of the glasses, then raised hers.
“To your first night in Paris,” she said.
“To making a new friend,” he countered. They touched glasses, then each took a drink.
By now Nate was starting to feel the effects of the wine. He wasn’t drunk, but he was less in control than he should have been. He was there on a job, he reminded himself. He’d have to nurse this glass for the rest of the evening.
“So what do you think of my brother?” Liz asked.
“He seems fine,” Nate replied, as naturally as he could. “I didn’t really spend that much time with him, and I’ve only met him once before. You know how it is, right, meeting a friend of your parents? What do you talk about?”
Liz smiled as she leaned back. She looked comfortable, totally relaxed. She raised her glass to her lips and took another drink.
“When I was a little girl, Jake was my hero. You know, one of those people who can do no wrong. I wanted to hang around him all the time. He was older, he didn’t have to, but he let me anyway.”
Another dangerous topic, but for a moment Nate’s curiosity won out over his caution. “How much older?”
“Eight years.”
“That is quite a bit.”
“Eight years and seven months, actually.”
Nate instinctively knew the next question he should ask. “Do you have any other brothers or sisters?”
She said nothing for a moment. “We did.”
“Oh. I’m sorry,” Nate said. “We can change the subject.”
“No, it’s all right,” she said. “We had a brother. Davey. He was in between us. But he died in a car accident when he was five, I think. I don’t remember him.”
“Oh, God. I really am sorry.”
“I was in the accident, too. The whole family was. You want to see my scar?”
She sat up suddenly, a little unsteady from the wine, and began working her fingers through her hair.
“It’s okay,” Nate said. “I believe you.”
“See?” she said.
She had created a part across her scalp that revealed a portion of a scar that looked like it ran for several inches.
“That must have hurt,” Nate said.
“I’m sure it did. I’m told there was a lot of blood.”
“Head wounds have a way of doing that.”
“Oh, really? And you know this how?”
He shrugged. “Grew up watching ER on TV.”
She snickered, then let her hair fall down as she leaned back. “I wasn’t even two yet. This is the only proof I have that the accident even happened. Well, and Davey’s grave, I guess.”
Nate tried to stop himself, but he couldn’t. “So what happened between you and Jake?”
“One night he just left,” she said. “I was nine.”
That surprised Nate. “He ran away from home?”
“Can you really call someone who leaves home at seventeen a runaway?” she asked. “All I know is he was gone.”
“For how long?”
“The first time I saw him after that,” she said, “was last month at our father’s funeral.”
“Whoa,” Nate said. “That’s a long time.”
“The only reason I knew he wasn’t dead was because he still keeps in contact with Mom. She asked me once if he’d ever been in touch with me. I lied and told her he had. Mom’s always had this kind of defeated sense to her. I guess I just didn’t want to add to it.”
“Look, you don’t need to—”
“I thought I’d moved past him, forgotten about him. But then the funeral, and now here.” Her eyes started to glisten. “He never called me. He never wrote. I don’t understand why.”
Tears began to slide down her cheeks, then she took a big gulp of air and could no longer keep herself from sobbing.
Without even thinking, Nate reached out and pulled her into his arms, letting her bury her face in his shoulder. He rubbed her back, and every once in a while whispered, “It’s okay” or “Just let it out.”
Then, when her crying subsided, she lay against him, her breaths fast at first, but gradually slowing down. After a while he thought she might have fallen asleep, but then she turned in his arms, and looked at him for a moment before pushing herself back up.
“More than you bargained for this evening, huh?” she asked as she wiped the last of her tears from her eyes.
He liked that she didn’t apologize. “You never know which way life is going to come at you. I find it better to let things happen than expect anything in particular.” He gave her a smile. “At the risk of setting you off again, I’m wondering if you ever asked him what was up.”
She shrugged. “Once.”
“And what did he say?”
“Nothing.”
“You mean he gave you the runaround?”
“No. I mean he said nothing. It was on the phone. He’d called to talk to Mom, but I happened to be home and had answered. So I decided I’d just ask him why he left. He was silent for a long time, and then he said, ‘Can I talk to Mom, please.’ That was it.”
“Maybe he had a good reason.”
“Yeah, well, if he did, I don’t care anymore.” She drained the rest of her wine, then picked up the bottle. “You want some more?” She looked at his glass. It was almost full. “I guess not, huh?”
“I’m fine.”
She started to tip the bottle over her own glass, but stopped before any liquid spilled out.
“Maybe it would be better if we just call it a night,” she said. “I’ve got class in the morning, and I’m sure you must be tired.”
“I’m doing okay,” Nate said. “But it’s up to you.”
She smiled, then started to stand, the bottle of wine still in her hand. When she straightened her knees, she swayed.
Nate jumped up and put out a hand to steady her.
“Thanks,” she said. “I think I just proved another glass would have been a bad idea.”
“Why don’t you give that to me?”
He took the bottle from her, then picked up the two glasses and carried them all into the kitchen. When he returned, Liz had moved the sheet, blanket, and pillow she’d set on the floor that afternoon onto the couch, and looked like she was about to make his bed.
“I can do that,” Nate said, rushing over.
She gave him a smirk. “I’m not completely helpless.”
She tucked the sheet around the cushions, put the pillow at one end, then spread the blanket out.
“Thanks,” he said.
“My pleasure.”
“What time’s your class in the morning?”
“Not until ten, thank God.”
“Mind if I come with you? Not to class, of course. But I’ve always wanted to see the Sorbonne.”
“Sure.” She leaned over and gave him a hug. “Thanks for being a good guy, Andrew.”
“Eh … thanks? I guess.”
She laughed into his chest, then, as she pulled away, he felt her hesitate, her cheek only an inch away from his. He could sense tension building between them, a tension he unexpectedly welcomed.
She’s Quinn’s sister, a voice in his head said.
He closed his eyes and tried to regain control. Just as he was about to push her away, she pulled back.
“If we leave by nine-fifteen, we can pick up something to eat on the way,” she said.
“That sounds good.”
She walked over to the hallway, then looked back. “I’m glad you decided to stay.”
He smiled. “I’m glad you asked.”
She disappeared into her bedroom, but he continued to stare at the spot where she’d been. When he finally looked away, he pulled out his phone. As much as he hated thinking about work at the moment, the
re was one last text he had to send. He pulled up Julien’s number, then typed:
Leaving 9:15 a.m. L has class at 10,
have talked her into letting me come along.
Will check in when I get up.
After hitting Send, he put his phone in his bag. Hopefully, Julien would get the hint and not reply. Right now all Nate wanted to do was pretend he was Andrew Cain, on vacation in Europe, and staying for a few days with an intriguing American girl in Paris.
And for a few seconds, right before he fell asleep, he actually believed it.
Chapter 25
Quinn rose early the next morning. He took a quick shower, got dressed, then sat on the edge of the bed and checked his email.
One was from his mother, sent to a dummy address that forwarded the message through a series of sites before it showed up in Quinn’s inbox.
Jake,
Just wanted to let you know your friend Steven is all settled in. He pretty much stays out of the way, but has been kind enough to ride into town with me when I have to go. Claire, unfortunately, was only able to stay a few hours. But while she was here she not only helped me sort through some of my mail, she also made a wonderful spaghetti dinner. I like her a lot, Jake.
Quinn smiled. He’d have to show Orlando that one.
I know you’re busy, but I do hope you come again soon. This is your home, no matter how long you’ve been away.
I love you,
Mom
Quinn read the letter twice. He could feel the guilt of having stayed away so long pressing in on him again. The other important email was from Orlando. He checked the time/date stamp. It had been sent just before her text from the night before.
Hi Jakey,Your mom’s all set. I’m on a flight from Chicago to New York, and then New York to London. Should be landing at Heathrow around 9 a.m. Coming in on Kuwaiti Air. Let me know what you want me to do once I get in. I’ve found a flat in Soho that I’ve sublet for two weeks. My sense is we won’t even need a week, but I didn’t want to have any problems.
Got a potential hit on that photo. Russian. Former KGB. Name: Nikolai Palavin. The information I found lists him as presumed dead. Maybe it’s him, maybe not. Still have no idea why his picture would have been in the folder.
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