The Aeschylus (24 page)

I tried.

-Mieke

When the lieutenant didn't move, Lucja read the letter a second time. It's meaning was clear enough, but she stood trying to figure out why he would show it to her. Then, she remembered something. “You had a picture of her. You were looking at it on the ship, isn't that right? Do you still have it?”

“I burned it,” he said.

“You burned it?”

“I burned it. Maybe it wasn't the smartest thing, because now, I miss her. I miss looking at her. I was just so angry. Thinking about her writing those things, saying those things
when I didn't even know if she meant them. Do you know how hard that was, reading it for the first time? She must have mailed it right after I left. It arrived on a whaler this morning.”

“It did?”

“You women are all the same. I'm sorry, but you are. You get... emotional. Especially Mieke. She's not the kind of girl who can handle being alone.”

“And this girl, this Mieke. She told you that she'd wait for you?”

“Of course she did! She said she would be there when I returned, waiting at the docks. Now, I find this letter waiting for me, with some story about how she met someone before.”

“Maybe she did,” Lucja said cautiously.

“Oh please.” Harald spun, his face red. “She's probably making it up. And even if she's not, I doubt it's more than a passing fancy. I've been with Mieke for two years, and I can tell you she's not a... not a slut.”

Lucja took a step backwards.

“I'm sorry. I don't mean to be crude. But these moods of hers, they're really quite ridiculous. As if I don't have enough to worry about. For God's sake, the weight of The Republic is resting on the army here, and it's resting on me to maintain order until things are finished.”

Taking another step back, she looked at him and judged it best to be silent. The man liked to talk, and the faster he got it out of his system, the faster she would be out of here.

“It's resting on your father, too.”

“What?” Amongst the turmoil, she'd nearly forgotten they were not just being funneled from one point to the next; her father had a purpose, or rather, they had a purpose for him. To hear it stated as plainly as this brought with it more feelings than she was willing to handle: pride, sorrow, fear, resentment. Perhaps this last most of all, though it was even more unwelcome than the rest.

“We need him to help us fight this thing here. Or to control it, I should say. Kriege thinks the stuff might be from another world. Do you believe that?” He laughed, his teeth sticking out
like points on a picket fence. Without thinking, she turned to the left and looked over the west wall of the tower. She could see the crater there, those incredible growths reaching up from it.

“In any case, I'm sure he will do his part. The commander here does not like excuses. You should remind him of that.”

“I... I will.”

“Good. It will give us a chance to talk as well. I'd like that. Oh, I know I can talk to the men, but it's not quite the same.”

“But I'm a prisoner.”

“Well, you're a civilian. I know there's some measure of formality, but... it will pass the time.” He was looking at her intently, his eyes tracing the line of her neck, the curve of her nose. Not as one might look at a good meal, thankfully, but as one might look at a painting when one wasn't quite sure what to make of it. “Aside from that, it will give us a chance to talk about Mieke.”

“Mieke?”

He reached down and plucked the paper from her hands. She was gripping it so tightly that a corner of the page tore. For just a moment, the rage crept back onto his face, and then it was gone. “It's all right,” he said. “I shouldn't have snatched it. The letter still makes me angry. I suppose I should store it somewhere I don't have to look at it.”

“We can talk about her, if you like.”

He smiled. “Good. Because I need you to help me win her back.”

“Win her back?”

“This is obviously one of her games to get attention. She's either trying to get me to come back early or trying to make me jealous from afar. Or both. I need help either way. I'm stuck here just the same as you, and I can't have her gallivanting around town with another man, even if it is just for show.”

“If there even is another man.”

“Yes!” he agreed. “If there is, as you say. But, I should tell her I love her, and that I'm not going to play these foolish games with her. Do you agree?”

Lucja nodded. She was beginning to feel like the head of a fishing bobber.

“Very good. Then you can help me write to her.”

“I can?”

“Yes, of course you can. You're of a smart people, and you're obviously a woman. You have insight. I know that just from our short time together. Tell me you agree?”

Lucja said that she did, not sure which of his points she was agreeing to, and not caring. The lieutenant was beginning to get dangerously close to her. She didn't think he was doing it consciously, but he was close enough now where she could feel the heat of his breath.

“I think I have to get home now.”

His expression soured. “Oh, am I boring you?”

“No! No, of course not. But Zofia... she's all by herself. And we're new here. And I... I don't like to leave her alone.”

“Yes. Yes of course, you're right. Your father is not in the bunker, and she is very young. Where are my manners?” He finally seemed to soften. “I think it's going to be a long winter. The sun will be down in a few weeks.” Harald pointed towards the horizon, what was once giant and bright on the mainland now nothing more than a small mound against the mountains. It was as if the sun itself was a prisoner, awaiting its death and burial beneath the line of the sea.

She was afraid for a moment that he was never going to move, but he did, and she realized just how much of a relief it was. It was an odd thing, how close he had been, far too close for a man she didn't like. Even pretending had its limits.

“Goodbye, Lieutenant.”

Mounting the ladder, Harald helped balance her again, and in moments, she was climbing down. Hans was there to meet her at the bottom. The pair of them walked back across the base, a sea of troubled thoughts circling in her mind. By coincidence, she happened to see one of the other men from the ship, Jan, heading towards the vehicle depot. He noticed the pair of them, and he did an odd thing, then. He gave them both a little wave. For no particular reason, Lucja waved back.

She fingered the screwdriver in her pocket, thinking about little Zofia alone in the bunker. Thinking about her mother, alone in a dank cell in Neuengamme. Thinking about her
father holding the ax over his head, and what she might do if she were ever in the same position.

The Aeschylus and The Island:

Present Day

Kate was so stunned that at first, she didn't make a sound. Then the pain hit her, and she shrieked. Mason was dragging her like a sack of grain, pulling her by the hair.

“Let me go!”

He punched her then, a quick, hard shot to the chin. Her head reeled. When she opened her eyes, another building loomed in front of her. She tried to remember something from her youth, a self defense throw, kick, something. But it was happening too fast. He was too goddamned big.

Mason pulled her in front of him. “Vy, get the door, would you?”

There was the sound of metal creaking—a giant hinge on a giant door. Or maybe not so giant, just sinister, just
final
.

She kicked out hard, slamming her foot into his shin. When it hit, she pulled her hand out of her pocket, her key chain gripped tightly between her fingers. A single key stuck out between her knuckles, and on instinct, she stabbed him with it. She felt the key sink into his arm, hard metal into soft meat. Mason barely grunted. He slammed her into the wall, and she dropped it, her last, pitiful weapon.

“No!” she screamed. “
No!
”

Mason threw her through the open doorway, her body twisting as it collapsed onto the concrete. She scrambled to her feet, reaching the door just as it slammed in her face. The sound of a lock clicked into place.

“You bastard! Why are you doing this?” It sounded foolish, but to her surprise, she got an answer.

“Because if they found the vice president's daughter full of bullet holes, it would be a hell of a thing to explain, that's why. The odds of anyone finding you are next to nothing, but it's not a chance I'm willing to take. Better you die of natural causes, princess. I thought we might have to drop you off the side of The Aeschylus with an anchor tied to your feet, but this is easier.”

“What are you talking about?” she cried.

“It's much easier to deal with two targets at once than three. And if it wasn't for your stupid indiscretion, we'd only have one. But I guess you passed that sentence this morning, didn't you?”

“What do you mean?” she yelled. “
What do you mean?
” But that question didn't need answering, because she knew what he meant just fine.

She was a target. They were all targets.

She didn't know how or why, but someone at Valley Oil had had ordered them dead. They were cleaning house upstairs, and that meant cleaning the dirty laundry. AJ knew about the security violations; Kate had insider information from old Stan McCreedy's envelope. Not they needed an extra reason to get rid of her. Nearly four hundred thousand shares of a company that could be running the American oil industry in twenty years? They could have never done it inside the states, not with her political ties, and not with The Service watching. But out here was the law of the jungle, and out here, no one would save her.

“I'm sorry about this Kate, I really am,” Mason said through the door. “I did respect your father, even if I didn't like him. This is just business, if you'll excuse the old expression. If it makes you feel better, you can blame the old man.”

“You leave my father out of this!”

“You'll be dead of dehydration in three or four days. Try to sleep it off, if you can.”

She wanted to scream at him, to tell him that she would find a way out, but she couldn't. In that moment, there was only despair. “You don't have to do this,” she groaned. “Please...”

There was no answer, and as the seconds ticked by, her solitude became a stifling certainty. They were leaving her. They were really
leaving
.

She crumpled to the floor, her head in hands. Then she wiped her face, wondering how many seconds of life each tear would cost. Without food or water, the clock was ticking.

When she lifted her head, she noticed there was almost no light. There were no windows that she could see, no vents or portholes or fenestrae anywhere around her. Then, she remembered her cell phone. She took it from her pocket, praying she had remembered to charge the battery enough to last the day. When she flicked the button, it came to life, and she saw the readout. “No signal. Of course not,” she said. The phone did emit light, however, and that was something. She held it in front of her like a flashlight.
All the wits of a CIA operative
, she thought again, and she laughed a little. Maybe she could keep those wits about her.

Maybe.

The light on the phone suddenly cut off, and she cried out, nearly dropping it to the floor. The light came back when she slapped it, though.
Just the automatic power saver
. She exhaled, remembering she'd have to flick a button every few seconds to keep the light active. The battery showed the phone had close to a full charge, but she knew from experience that it wouldn't last forever.

Cautiously, she began walking the hall, sticking her head into each room along the path. The first two rooms held metal bed frames and a couple of shelves. The third contained a hole with an ancient, fetid smell. The room at the end of the hall was the largest, and it looked the most lived-in. She saw beds
and shelves, old blankets, toiletries scattered on the floor. A stuffed bear sat on one of the cots, staring at her with ancient, button eyes. It held the faded, worn look of a child's love, and it looked sad somehow.
I'm lonely
, its eyes seemed to say.
Pick me up and hold me. It's been so long since I've had company. So long
.

Kate sat on the cot and squeezed the bear to her chest, its stuffing as soft as old jelly. It was comforting, that bear. It didn't matter that it had been almost thirty years since she'd last had one of her own. When at last she set him down, she saw a glint of something strange on one of the shelves. It looked terribly out of place, and at first, she thought the light was playing tricks on her. When she grabbed it, she couldn't believe it was real.

It was a screwdriver.

“Dutch?” AJ called. “Dutch, are you there?”

The room lay still. Outside, the platform groaned as it swayed subtly in the wind.

AJ dropped the file he was holding and pulled the M1911 from his belt. He counted his respiration: one breath, two... and then heard the click of footsteps. Dutch appeared in the doorway ahead of him, but he wasn't alone.

“I'd put that down if I were you, smart boy.”

The man behind his friend was smiling. AJ noted distractedly that he had a huge jaw—worthy of acromegaly, really—and it made him look oddly simian.

Dutch cast his eyes downwards. “I'm sorry, buddy.”

“Guess this one's not as slow as the old guy this morning,” AJ said conversationally.

“I guess not.”

St. Croix had eyes for only AJ. “I told you to put it down.”

“Fuck you, you put it down.”

“You don't put it down, I'll shoot him.”

“You shoot him, I shoot you. And you have a big head for a target.”

“Now, now, here. Why don't everybody just calm down?” Just when AJ didn't think things could get any worse, Melvin appeared. He was pushing Doctor Grey in front of him, one hand on the man's shoulder and one wrapped around the trigger of his shotgun. He shoved the doctor into the room, and Grey tumbled to the floor. He looked only half lucid.

A long kitchen counter separated the standoff, and after Grey was down, Melvin began circling around it. AJ saw him flanking, and without opening fire, he couldn't do a thing to stop it. The odds were dropping fast, and his finger twitched, a hair's breadth from thunder.