Definitely out of the inner compound. We’ve already passed two inner circle buildings that had previously only existed in the map in my head. If I have it figured right, in another fifty paces we’d be passing through the outer ring.
Just looking around, I can tell why it is Bob decided to do this tonight. It’s the last night of a new moon. Visibility stinks, especially since most of the lights in the place are extremely localized, concerned primarily with keeping front stoops lit. The two exceptions are the center of the compound (the midway point between the administrative building and the lab) which is perpetually lit by spotlights atop a centrally located light stand, and the perimeter fence, which has a light stanchion every twenty yards. All provided Clara’s map is accurate.
I keep glancing at Eve to my right. She’s dressed in the same sort of generic white cottons I’d been handed the day I first checked in, but somehow she manages to look simply amazing in it, carrying herself with a certain grace that makes me wonder if her feet are actually touching the ground. I fall in love again five or six times.
Unfortunately, since her initial greeting, she hasn’t said a word. This is not the kind of conversation I had in mind.
“She doesn’t talk much,” Bob says, noting my interest. “I should have mentioned that earlier.”
“Maybe she just isn’t interested in talking to you,” I offer.
Still a good distance from the fence, I manage to pick up the telltale buzzing noise of an adult pixie in flight. If asked to describe the noise, I’d say it falls somewhere between the sound of the wind through a pine tree and the low rasp of corduroy pant legs rubbing together. It’s the sort of thing you have to know you’re hearing in order to catch it, and I’m fairly confident Bob and Brutus don’t. Eve does. She shoots a sidelong glance at me and I can swear I see the barest traces of a grin.
“So tell me, Bob,” I say, a bit louder. “Now that you’ve gotten the first phase of this little project out of the way, when do you go to phase two?”
I sincerely hope Iza hears the last part of my sentence and puts it into the proper context. As pixies are not known for being able to follow conversational threads very closely, it’s a good hope.
“Phase one, as you put it, isn’t completed yet,” Bob says. “First I have to eliminate the remaining liabilities.” That means us, presumably. “This technology is very much desired by a number of multinational consortiums. I expect to do rather well for myself.”
“Of course you do,” I say. “And the rest of the world be damned, right?”
I can no longer hear Iza. Either she’s lost interest and is now flying back to Clara, or she caught my request. I would find out fairly soon.
“It’s true that there may be some unexpected political consequences,” Bob agrees. “But that’s inevitable in the face of progress. Might as well do the best I can financially.”
“Sure,” I say. “And when one of your interested parties decides to unleash a biological weapon, you’re going to say what? ‘Oh well’?”
“Yes,” he agrees. “That’s exactly right. Now stop. This is close enough.”
We had walked south, through the unused end of the camp. Human security is supposed to patrol this section, but I haven’t seen anybody, so I’m guessing Grindel told them to stay away for a few hours.
He’d stopped us facing the perimeter fence, just beyond two vacant huts. At the foot of the fence a very deep hole has been dug in the sand, which must have been a challenge to accomplish given the concrete quality of the ground. Probably took Brutus all afternoon.
It’s a new first for me. I’ve never stared into my own grave before.
“You have two minutes, Adam,” Bob says.
“Excuse me?” I ask, turning.
“I’m giving you the face time you’ve been waiting for.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. Now quit stalling before I change my mind.”
Bob takes two gracious steps backward in the interest of giving us some privacy. I’d have preferred he take forty or fifty steps, but whatever.
I look Eve in the eye, and she looks back. Which is the closest thing to a meaningful conversation we’ve ever had. As always, her expression reveals nothing to me.
“I thought you were dead,” I say to her, after deciding she wasn’t going to be speaking without a prompt.
She smiles. Apparently nobody told her we’re on a clock here.
“Do you have anything to say?” I ask.
She looks quizzically at me, the pale white of her skin contrasting remarkably with her red hair in the half- light.
“Why are you here?” she asks finally. She has a very musical cadence to her speech that would give a linguist fits in trying to place. I recognize it as the rhythm of a language that died before the written word. I just can’t quite figure out which one.
In answering, I could have explained that I’d come to save a woman I thought was in serious danger, but who turned out to have deliberately tricked me into following her—and who might even have tipped off Bob that I was planning on making a break tonight, thus putting the two of us in this position—when I should have followed my instinct and bolted, remembering that I’m
But that would take too long. Instead I say, “I’m here to rescue you.”
“I see,” she says. “How ironic.”
“What do you mean?”
“I knew you would turn up in this place. Even against your own better judgment. It’s why I chose to stay.”
An alarm from the center of the camp startles us both, and more importantly, prevents me from asking her just what in the hell she means. Implicit in being a prisoner is that one doesn’t simply decide to stay. Unless there’s a get-out-of-jail pass nobody told me about.
The alarm catches the attention of both Grindel and his large demon bodyguard. Brutus looks especially tense, which isn’t something you see all that often in his species.
“It’s for the cage,” Brutus says.
“The cage? Who could have opened that?” Grindel asks.
“I did,” I say, even though nobody is talking to me.
“Really? How did you… Never mind.” He brings his handgun to bear. “Sorry, Adam. The two of you have run out of time.”
Pointing his gun at my head causes the ground at his feet to erupt. It takes a second to register, but evidently somebody’s shooting at him. He jumps backward, and fortunately, doesn’t pull the trigger himself.
“Let her go!” someone shouts.
Bob looks around, trying to pinpoint the source of the voice. It came from the corner window of the hut to Bob’s right, but he can’t seem to figure this out.
“Miss Wassermann,” he shouts, turning in a slow circle, arms raised. It’s an invitation to take another shot. “You shouldn’t involve yourself in something you don’t understand.”
There’s a moment when he leaves himself exposed, but Brutus steps between us before I can do anything, so I just stand still and hope Clara knows what the hell she’s doing. Because when this is over I’m going to have to ask her why she’s more interested in saving Eve than in saving me, and that will be a lot easier if both of us are still alive.
“I understand plenty, Bob,” Clara shouts back. “Now walk away.”
Bob spins around and shoots three times in the direction of the voice. He had been baiting her into talking some more, which should have been obvious.
We’re all treated to a lengthy silence, and for a second I worry he’s gotten lucky.
“Nice try,” Clara says finally. “The fuck, you think I’m stupid?”
“What are you waiting for?” I shout. “Shoot him!”
Bob stares at the side of the building he’s just riddled, then declares, “She can’t. She’s bluffing.”
He points the gun at me again, and now I’m wondering if there’s any place convenient to jump. Just before
