I hesitated. “What happened after your crash?”
“I went to Miri’s house. It was dark by then; I don’t think anyone saw me. There was a broken latch on her bedroom window. She left it broken so that I could get in without waking her parents late at night.” He went quiet.
Finally he said, “My face still didn’t really hurt much. But I felt very strange. Once I got into Miri’s room, I didn’t look in the mirror. Maybe I was afraid to. I could hear her in the bathroom, getting ready for bed. And when she came into the room…and saw me…” He stopped.
I sat tensely silent. Ingo took a breath.
“She screamed,” he said. “I went to her. I tried to explain about the keys, the corruption…I told her I loved her. She backed away. She was horrified.”
I hated having to defend Miriam, but said softly, “Anyone might have been startled at first, Ingo.”
He sat with his wrists dangling loosely over his knees, gazing at the ceiling. “No, it was more than that. She was…revolted. I saw it in her eyes. She told me to leave.”
I stared at his melted-wax profile, trying to picture what his injury must have looked like only hours after it had happened – how desperately he must have needed medical attention. “She told you to leave?”
“Yes. I was so stunned that I did. The World for Peace security picked me up not long after that. They took me in for questioning. They knew about the keys. They told me that they had you – that you’d blamed everything on me.”
“They told me the same thing about you,” I said.
“Standard ploy, I guess. I believed it then, because the alternative…” He grimaced. “But then at Harmony Five, I knew you weren’t lying. You hadn’t talked. I guess on some level I’d realized it all along. Even if someone saw us breaking in, they couldn’t have known all the details the Guns came out with. Miri must have told them everything.”
Ingo picked up the guitar again, but didn’t play it.
“You know, when I saw the disgust in her eyes, it killed whatever I’d felt for her,” he said at last. “I never would have believed it, but it’s true. It just ended, like turning off a tap. Maybe it was never really love. But at the camp…it still hurt to realize that she’d turned me in.”
Pain stirred. I nodded. I knew exactly how he’d felt.
After a pause, Ingo glanced at me. “Did you believe it? What they told you about me?”
“Not really,” I said. “I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t think you’d betray me.”
“You hardly knew me at that point. Do you make a habit of trusting strange men who give you champagne in clubs?”
“No. But I thought I could trust you.”
“Why?”
I considered for a moment. “Because of the way you fight,” I said finally. “And because of the time when you shot me down and then cared about whether or not I bailed. We seemed to…feel the same way about Peacefighting.”
Ingo had listened intently; now he gave a soft, bitter laugh. “So a stranger who I’d known for about five hours had me pegged better than my girlfriend of ten months. Why does this not surprise me?”
I studied him. “Do you think that’s why she talked? Because she thought you’d betrayed the World for Peace?”
“I’m sure that’s what she told herself,” said Ingo curtly. “But no – I think she talked because half my face had been burned to a crisp.”
At my expression, he gave a bitter shrug. “Look, maybe I wasn’t a male model before, but some women found me attractive. Miri was one of them. If I’d emerged from that crash unscathed, she’d have listened. She liked drama. It excited her. We’d probably have ended up in bed before I’d even finished the story. But a half-burned horror who made her recoil in revulsion? No.”
I didn’t speak. After a moment Ingo glanced at me. “Thank you for not denying what I look like,” he said in a low voice.
When we’d first met, I’d have said Ingo was “offbeat” rather than handsome. For me, his long face was too angular, his mouth too thin and wry, to be really good-looking. But there’d been something appealing about his lean, mobile features – the way his dark eyes lit up as he talked. They still did sometimes, despite the broad, puckered scar that pulled so harshly at his skin.
“I’m used to what you look like,” I said softly.
“Really? I’m not.” Ingo strummed the guitar for a few moments, not really playing, just teasing at chords. “You know, I’ve been looking in the mirror a lot since we got here,” he said finally. “I hadn’t really seen my face since just after it happened. Horrific, isn’t it?”
He said it matter-of-factly. I winced but tried not to show it.
“When you first see it, maybe,” I said. “I hardly think about it now.” I hesitated. “Does it hurt?”
“No. I don’t feel much of anything from here to here.” As he spoke, Ingo pointed first at his forehead and then his jaw. He kept strumming, his dark head down. “Well, I’ll get used to it too, at some point,” he said. “I haven’t got much choice, unless I want to be depressed every time I look in a mirror.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
Ingo’s head snapped up; his almost-black eyes flashed with irritation. “Oh, to hell with that. I don’t need your pity, Amity.”
“I know you don’t. I mean, I’m sorry because it’s partly my fault, isn’t it? If I hadn’t asked you to help me, it wouldn’t have happened.”
“Ah, and then I could still be wallowing in happy ignorance, is that it? Please give me some credit. I knew it was dangerous when I said yes.”
“I didn’t tell you how dangerous,” I said in a low voice. “I deliberately didn’t tell you that they’d just tried to kill me, so that you’d help.”
Ingo already knew this. He shrugged. “All right. Thanks for the apology,” he said finally. He was playing something light now, jazzy. “But there’s no need. You wouldn’t have done anything differently if you’d known and neither would I, probably. I had to know the truth, even if I hated it.” His mouth quirked ruefully. “I’ve always been irritating that way.”
I studied him, remembering that he was one of the few Peacefighters I’d ever met who had read the papers. Who, like me, had wanted to know what he was fighting for.
“Well, there’s a bright side,” I said. “You’re not stuck with Miriam the bitch any more.”
To my relief, Ingo gave a bark of laughter. He shot me a grin.
“Amazing,” he said. “Every cloud really does have a silver lining.”
It had stopped raining and sunlight was angling in through the window. I fiddled with my cane. “You know,” I said, “when we were at the mining office…and the Guns were about to break in…”
Ingo stopped playing, watching me.
The words came haltingly. “I thought…that you’d be a good person to die with. It felt so lonely, thinking of it happening alone. Sometimes even with other people around, I still feel lonely. Not with you.”
“Irritated sometimes,” said Ingo after a pause. “Wanting to kick me sometimes.”
“Yes to both. But never lonely.”
Ingo smiled. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “You too, for me.” He kept plucking at the strings, the same jazzy tune as before – light, but with discordant elements, like sunshine and shadow.
“That’s nice,” I said. “What is it?”
“Nothing; I’m just making it up. Can I ask you another intrusive question, since the Peacefighting story is off limits?”
I tensed, suddenly apprehensive. “Collie?”
Ingo’s fingers kept strumming. “Don’t tell me if you don’t want. Total trust doesn’t mean you have to tell me things that are none of my damn business.”
“It’s okay,” I said. I tried to smile. “You told me yours, I’ll tell you mine.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
March, 1941
Collie had been gone for over ten hours.
I paced our Topeka hotel room, rubbing my arms and te
lling myself over and over that everything was fine. Of course it was. It had to be.
I crossed to the window again and stared out at the city streets. The stark white domes of the Zodiac dominated the view. Shadowcars occasionally cruised past. I stood watching out for their high, rounded lines, as sickly mesmerized as if they’d been sharks.
Collie, where are you?
This morning he’d checked to make sure the Do Not Disturb sign was still hooked onto the outside of our door. “The maids shouldn’t come in,” he said. “But keep the security bolt on anyway. Don’t open the door unless it’s me.”
I’d nodded tensely. “How long will you be?”
“I don’t know. I’m supposed to meet the Resistance contact at a coffee shop to discuss the next move… hopefully it won’t take very long.” He was wearing the blue second-hand suit he’d bought in the Western Seaboard. I watched as he gazed at himself in the mirror, knotting his tie with fingers that didn’t falter.
Collie was the best friend of my childhood – and now, for months, we’d been as intimate as it was possible for two people to be. Yet there was still so much of his history that I didn’t know. Soon, I told myself. He’d promised to tell me everything as soon as we escaped this place.
Still at the window, I started at a knock. I froze, alert as a deer. I wanted to sprint to the door; I forced myself to tiptoe. I pressed my cheek against the smooth wood and gazed out of the peephole.
“It’s me,” whispered Collie, just as I saw his face.
Relief rushed through me. I threw open the door; he hurried in and I flung myself into his arms. He lifted me off the floor.
“I’m sorry!” he gasped. “It took for ever – they drove me to a little town out in the middle of nowhere to meet this other guy, and at first he didn’t show up—”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, fine.”
“What did they say?”
Collie took off his fedora and jacket; he threw them onto the bed and sank into the plush armchair. I sat on his lap and he hugged me close, burrowing his face against my neck.
“They’re going to help us,” he murmured.
Yes. I let out a ragged breath. “When?”
“Tonight. Late. I’m to go to the Zodiac to meet one of them, and they’ll have the documents for me. There’s a party or something.”
I stared at him. “Just like that?”
He shrugged tensely. “I didn’t ask for details, Amity. That’s a good way to get killed with these people. One of them must be a high-up with Gunnison, or have access to someone who is.”
I didn’t glance out at those pure white domes again, crowding out the rest of the skyline – but could almost feel them behind me, as if they were watching us. “Do you trust these people?” I said.
“Kind of late not to.” At my expression, Collie rubbed my arm. “Don’t worry. Yes, I think so. If they were with Gunnison, I’d have been arrested last night when I told them what we know. Guns don’t bother to play coy.”
At the reminder of his meeting the night before, disquiet filled me again. Before I could say anything, he went on: “Listen – the Resistance had no idea what those documents Gunnison’s been waving around really said. Now we’re offering to smuggle them out of the country and release them to the world. Don’t worry, they’ll come through tonight. They’d do anything to overthrow him.”
I wanted to feel wholly relieved, but couldn’t, not while we were still here. “What about Hal?” I said after a moment.
Appalachia was the only place we could escape to once we had the documents – but my brother would still be in hiding in the Western Quarter. I was desperate for Collie’s contacts to help him, too, if they could.
Collie was taking off his tie; he paused. “Hal?”
“Can they do anything? Get him out somehow?”
An expression very like guilt flickered through Collie’s blue-green eyes.
I slid off his lap. “You didn’t even ask? Collie—”
“I did ask!” He jumped up and gripped my shoulders. “It’s just…they’re not sure. They’ll do what they can. But, Amity, if they can’t help him, we still have to go. You realize that, don’t you?” He studied my face anxiously.
My throat felt full of sand. “Yes,” I said at last.
He put his arms around me. I stood stiffly, heartsick at the thought of Hal. But no matter what, we’d be helping him by releasing those documents. I sighed and relaxed against Collie. His embrace tightened: warm, familiar.
“We’ll be all right,” he whispered against my hair. “It’s almost over…just a few more hours.”
We spent the rest of the evening not talking about what lay ahead. We took a bath together, with music from the telio playing in the background. Van Wheeler had a new song out, “For Ever and a Day”. Like his others, I didn’t like it, exactly – but once you’d heard it you couldn’t stop humming it. I lay in Collie’s arms in the warm, soapy water and longed for it to be the next day, when with luck we’d be in Appalachia.
Darkness fell. Finally, near midnight, it was time. Collie got dressed again and combed his hair back. He took my hands tightly in his. “I hope this won’t take long, but try not to worry if it does,” he said. “Get packed while I’m gone, all right? The second I’m back, we’re making a run for it.”
“Thank you for doing this,” I said in a low voice.
“Hey, I already told you—”
“No, I do have to thank you,” I broke in. “Collie, this means everything to me. It’s not just about getting those documents out to the world. It’s…it’s to do with Dad.”
Collie went still, his eyes locked on mine.
I spoke haltingly, struggling to articulate what I hadn’t put into words before, not even to myself. “I’d give anything to understand why he threw that fight,” I said. “I’ll never know. But…maybe I can undo some of what he did. I feel like I’ll never be able to think about him again without part of me hating him until I do. Never find any peace.”
I touched Collie’s face. “So thank you,” I whispered. “I need this.”
For a flicker, Collie’s expression turned complicated: pity, anger, something else I couldn’t define.
Then he smiled slightly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He picked up his fedora from the dresser. “I know you do,” he said. “I love you. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
After Collie left, the hotel room felt twice as large, yet claustrophobic, its silent walls pressing in on me. Glad of something to do, I moved quickly around it, picking up our things. Collie had mostly packed already, but one of his shirts was on the bed, and a pair of his cufflinks lay on the dresser.
Our second-hand cases sat on a stand, Collie’s on top. I undid the clasps. He was a lot tidier than I was. Inside, his shirts and trousers were arranged as neatly as if they were in a shop. I hastily folded the stray shirt and added it.
The cufflinks had a box; I remembered seeing it. There was no sign of it in the room. I delved into the suitcase, holding the folded clothes to one side. I could feel a piece of paper, but no box.
My spine stiffened at a rustling noise. I spun where I stood. A letter had appeared, slid under the bedroom door.
I gazed at the unmarked envelope in apprehension, listening to footsteps retreat back down the corridor. I pushed my fear away and quickly went over and picked it up.
When I drew out the folded sheet of paper, its letterhead read, “Royal Archer Hotel”. It was just a receipt for the room, made out to Mr Collis Reed. I sagged and started to put it in the suitcase – and then stiffened.
Underneath the amount we owed for the night before was written, Charged to Zodiac expense account as requested.
I stared at the receipt. The words made no sense. The management had made a mistake – confused Collie’s bill with someone else’s.
I remembered my hand brushing that other piece of paper in his suitcase. Slowly, an emotion I didn’t yet understand stirring thro
ugh me, I found it and pulled it out. Another receipt for the first night we’d stayed, identical to this one.
At the bottom, another note saying the same thing.
A Zodiac expense account. It wasn’t possible. My gaze flew to the bulging envelope in Collie’s case where he kept the money he’d been paid for the fixed Tier One fight.
“No,” I whispered. Collie wouldn’t throw a fight.
Would he?
My hands were cold. Suddenly I knew exactly why his meeting yesterday had bothered me so much. I’d been hiding in the car. Would Collie really have chosen an initial meeting with the Resistance then, when it might have been a trap? He would never have left me in such a vulnerable position.
He hadn’t been worried.
Whoever he’d met with, he’d had no concerns about doing so. In fact, the only time he’d seemed really tense was when he smuggled me up the stairwell. He was unhappy, yes – but nothing like a man who’d barely escaped this region and now feared for his life.
Had he been meeting with the Resistance at all?
Only a few minutes had passed since he left. I went to the window, pushed the curtain aside.
The twelve white domes of the Zodiac shone against the stars. Below, the sidewalk was lit from flashing signs – regular pools of street lights.
As I watched, Collie walked through one, heading for the Zodiac. I recognized him even from above. He had his hands in his pockets, head slightly down. He was nearly at the complex now. Just before he faded from view, he turned down a side street and was gone.
Amity…there’s a lot you don’t know.
It felt as if I could barely breathe. I’d thought he meant the things that had happened to him while he lived here. Things to do with the fact that he was Discordant.
The money. Hal. The look of guilt I’d seen flickering in his gaze.
The documents.
I dropped the curtain and flung off my hotel bathrobe. I dressed in a quick scramble, throwing on my trousers and leather flight jacket; they were both dark colours. There was a woollen cap in my jacket pocket. I shoved my hair up under it.