The Nexus Series: Books 1-3 (52 page)

23

A
brief tram ride took them to their new hotel a stone’s throw from the
first.  After Oaks checked them in they sat in a private corner of the
dimly lit ground floor restaurant.  It was mostly empty by this hour, with
only a few late diners and a handful of night-lifers at the bar.  From
their booth they could see Agent Oaks sitting on a sofa in the lobby as he
spoke on his mobile.

“He does seem to
know an awful lot about you guys,” Jerry G was saying.  The minute Oaks
had left to make his call, he immediately became the subject of discussion.

“Don’t tell me
the rest of you aren’t at least a little suspicious of this guy,” Bradley said
quietly.

“Like he told
us,” said Corey, “he knows too much about us to risk
not
trusting him.”

Bradley didn’t
deny it.  “I just think we should be on our guard.  I’m not sure he’s
who he says he is.”

“I’m not
convinced myself,” Corey admitted.  “I contacted the director about our
situation, but he hasn’t responded yet.”

“We could leave
right now,” Bradley said, “while he’s not looking.”

“We could have
left at any point,” noted Jerry.  “He knows that.  We didn’t have to
follow him in the first place.”

“He’s doing
nothing to force our cooperation,” Corey agreed.  “I don’t think he’s even
armed.  He’s just banking on us going along with this.”

“And that makes
you more comfortable?” Bradley asked.

Corey didn’t
answer.

“Call me crazy,”
said Jerry, “but I’m a firm believer in a woman’s intuition.  Us guys
should stop doing all the talking.  How about it, ladies?”

Amber’s eyes
were glowing embers.  “If he can lead us to the assassins, I don’t care
who he is or what he wants.”

“That’s one vote
in favor of sticking with Oaks,” said Corey.  “
Diz
,
what do you think?”

Dizzie
shook her head.  “It’s all happened so
fast!  I’m still kind of reeling.”

“But what does your
gut tell you?” Jerry prompted her.

“It tells me I
ate that spring roll too fast.”

“You’re
hilarious.  Just answer the question.”

She
sighed.  “I agree with Amber.  Assuming the director gives us the
go-ahead, that is.”

Bradley was
clearly still uncomfortable with the idea, but he didn’t offer a counter
argument.  “How about you, Jill?”

She hadn’t said
a word since they’d arrived.  “I guess you guys put more stock in feminine
intuition than I do,” she said quietly.

“So you do have
a feeling about this guy,” said Jerry.

“Spit it out,
Jill,” Corey urged her.

“I believe him,”
she heard herself saying.  “I know there’s no reason I should, no way we
could know for sure he’s on the level.  All I know is that he strikes me
as someone we can trust.  Don’t ask me why.”

Corey
nodded.  “Bradley, you’re still looking like you’d rather trust a
kleptomaniac in a museum.”

“I don’t like
it, but I don’t have a better idea.  Let’s see what Director Holiday has
to say about it.”

“Here he comes,”
Jerry said softly.

If Oaks knew
he’d been the topic of their scrutiny in the preceding minutes, he didn’t show
any suspicion as he approached the table.  “Thank you for your patience,”
he said, taking a seat at the booth.  “I had to arrange for the
unconscious USP agents and the ambassador to be seen to.”

“What’ll happen
to her?” Bradley asked.

“Nothing. 
No charges have been pressed.  If they had, you’d all be implicated as
well, of course.  As things stand, I’m simply grateful that because of her
actions, legal or otherwise, you’re all here.  Now, then.”  Agent
Oaks took his computer out of his briefcase and tapped at it.  Then he
turned it so they could all see the screen.  It showed a series of
photographs of a palatial white stone structure.  “Moscow’s luxurious
Kotelnicheskaya
Embankment Apartments,” he said,
“overlooking the
Moscva
and
Yauza
rivers.”

“Try saying that
five times fast,”
Dizzie
snickered.

Jerry started to
until Bradley gave him a silencing look.

“The place is
home to some of Russia’s most prominent celebrities, professional athletes, and
politicians,” Oaks went on, “including a criminal investigator named
Miroslov
Zykov
.  You’ve
heard of him.”

“How did you
find him?” Corey asked.

“We’ve known the
location of his residence for some time,” was the only answer Oaks offered. 
“
Zykov
is thought to be the world’s foremost expert
on
Pautina
.  Now, the building employs a
large onsite security team, and we haven’t even mentioned the personal
bodyguards of the individual residents.”  In the central construct of the
building, layers of towers surrounded one central hexagonal tower jutting into
the gray sky.  Agent Oaks pointed to a section of this bulky tower. 
“
Zykov’s
humble abode.”

“Can you confirm
the rumors that
Zykov
has the information about
Pautina
?”
Jill asked him.

“I can tell you
the rumors are too plentiful to ignore. 
Zykov’s
investigation, though highly private, has supposedly been extensive. 
He’ll have a record of his findings somewhere.  His residence makes the
most sense.  The only way to know for sure, of course, is to make our way
inside and see for ourselves—which, it just so happens, is precisely what we’re
going to do.”

HOLIDAY
felt an irritating prickle of déjà vu as he dialed Riley’s number while driving
through the night toward Riley’s apartment.

His call was
ignored, like the previous five he’d made in the last hour.  On a whim he
left a voice message this time.  “Riley, I need to speak with you as soon
as possible, in case that wasn’t self-evident from my relentless attempts to
contact you.  I know you have your mobile with you, which means you’re
choosing to ignore me or you’re busy doing something you’re convinced is more
important than talking to me—which it’s not.  My team on Earth may be in
trouble, and you alone can shed light on the matter.  Have you or have you
not been in contact with an American FBI agent named Oaks?  I need an
answer immediately.”  Holiday irritably pocketed his mobile.

Riley was
avoiding them.  That was the only explanation.  It wasn’t
surprising.  The poor man was paranoid.  He was probably drowning
himself in work to distract himself.  Holiday had no idea where the man’s
office was.  Riley made sure of that.  But the Chief Home Planet
Liaison had to come home sometime.  Holiday would be waiting for him.

A few minutes
later he was at Riley’s bedroom door and had a flash-bulb memory of the last
time he’d stood here.  Last time, fresh blood stained the carpet. 
Last time, he’d expected to open the door and find Riley dead.

Last time,
Riley hadn’t been dead.

He stared at
the motionless figure almost entirely covered by the drawn-up patchwork
quilt.  Only the bald head and hollow face were visible, eyes partially
closed, mouth frozen in a non-expression.  On the nightstand next to him
sat his mobile, screen blinking to vainly admonish its owner of several missed
calls.  Next to the mobile was a bottle, which had been filled with pills
earlier that evening and now stood empty.  Next to the bottle was a
handwritten note:

I willingly
take this path.  Please realize that if I did not, I would very soon have
been forced to take it unwillingly.  Some will say I have been impatient
in leaving this life behind.  Others who know me well will say it has been
delayed far, far too long.

Holiday read it
once and replaced it on the table.  He looked into a pair of half-closed,
sightless eyes and marveled at what death could do to those who witnessed
it.  He suddenly missed a man he’d never liked.  Countless past
arguments seemed null and void.  Negative memories seemed to fade;
positive memories sprang to mind and were magnified.  All emotions melted
into stark pity.

Meanwhile the
cold, practical part of Holiday’s mind was all too aware of a disturbing fact:
his question about Oaks would not be answered.

JILL
was following Amber and
Dizzie
into their new hotel
room by the time she realized her pocket was empty.  “Hold on, my mobile’s
missing.”

“Must have left
it in the restaurant,” said
Dizzie
.  “Want me to
go down there with you?”

“Nah, I got
it.”  She headed back toward the elevators.  Strange...she didn’t
even remember taking her mobile out at dinner.

She got down to
the restaurant.  As she strode through the entrance she noticed Oaks
sitting at the bar.  He tossed back a shot glass of something, asked for
another.  The aura of professionalism was gone, replaced by slumped
shoulders and bowed head.  Jill’s first instinct was to go to him, talk to
him, ask what was wrong.  But something rooted her feet to the ground.

She remembered
why she’d come and finally crossed the dining room toward the booth they’d
occupied.  She checked the table, the seats, the floor.  Nothing.

She backed
right into someone as she was coming out from under the table.  “Sorry,”
she said sheepishly, standing abruptly.  “I was just looking for—”

“For this?” the
waiter smiled.  “I was about to take it to lost and found when I saw you
down there.”  He held out the mobile.

“Thanks,” she
said, still too embarrassed to look him in the eye.

He nodded and
left.  Her eyes went back to agent Oaks, still at the bar.  His back
was to her, but she could still tell he was downing another drink.

Her hands
alerted her first—something didn’t feel right.  She looked down at the
mobile she’d accepted from the waiter.

It wasn’t
hers.  The same model and casing, but this one was brand new.  The
familiar scratches and imperfections from months of use were missing.

Her eyes hunted
for the waiter.  “Um, sir?  I don’t think this is actually—”

The mobile
vibrated.  A message appeared on the screen: 
Hello, Jillian
.

She
unconsciously took a seat in the booth.  Was it even worth asking? 
She did just in case: 
Who are you?

The response
was as unsurprising at it was disappointing. 
You must allow me to
remain anonymous for the time being.

Another message
arrived before she could ask anything else. 
Forgive me for replacing
your mobile.  I was concerned it was being monitored.  This was the
only way I knew how to reach you privately.

Jill punched a
reply quickly, anxiously. 
And why would you need to do that?

To warn
you.  Be careful of the man who calls himself Agent Oaks.

Her eyes lifted
toward him as she read his name—if it was his name.  The bartender was
setting a new drink in front of him.

Jill
typed: 
Explain.

Not
now.  Accompany him to Russia, but be cautious.  He may not be who he
seems.

She looked
around for the waiter again—if it had been a waiter.  Could he have been
the one who...?

Jill looked
Oaks’ direction again.  The urge to go to him returned.  Again she
resisted, watching him from the corner of her eye as she crossed the dining room
toward the restaurant exit.  From the doorway she could see his face
again.  Were there tears in his eyes?  She wondered who he really
was, wondered where his unshakable demeanor had gone, wondered who the nameless
messenger could be.

Despite
everything, she found herself still trusting him.

“WHAT
do you mean you
still trust him?”
Bradley asked, eyes narrowed.

Jill
shrugged.  “So instead I should trust a stranger who swiped my mobile?”

“She has a
point,” said Jerry G.

They sat in the
sitting room of their adjoined sleeping quarters.  Corey scratched his
head as he read and reread the messages Jill had received on the replacement
mobile.  “No hunch who this could be?” he asked her.

Jill
hesitated...then shook her head.

“So we’re still
going to Moscow with Oaks, right?” Amber asked.

Corey
nodded.  “Whoever this is, he says to go ahead with the trip. 
Director Holiday approves.”

“Wait,” said
Dizzie
, “Jill, if you don’t have your mobile, that means
you didn’t get the director’s message.”

Jill shook her
head.  “I’m assuming there was more to this message than a confirmation to
go to Moscow?”

The others
exchanged grave looks.

“Chief Riley’s
dead,” Corey told her.

“What?”

“Suicide,”
Jerry G added.

Jill didn’t
know what to say.

“The director
says he was dying as it was,” said
Dizzie
. 
“Maybe that’s why...”

“Or maybe he
was afraid of something,” said Bradley, “something we don’t know about. 
Maybe we’re in way over our heads.”

“Oaks claimed
Riley was his contact at the USP for this investigation,” said Jill.

“We’ll never
know now,” said Corey.

“Poor man,”
Dizzie
whispered.

“So what do we
do?” asked Jerry G.

“We go to
Moscow,” Amber answered flatly.

Corey
nodded.  “We go to Moscow and see what happens.”

FOR
obvious reasons Jill couldn’t sleep.  She didn’t even bother
trying for at least an hour.  Sitting up in bed in her private room of the
suite, she turned the unworn mobile over and over in her hands.