Canvas Skies (Reliance on Citizens Makes Us Great!) (3 page)

“How about my apartment?” Brody offered.
“You seem to know all of my secrets anyway. For all I know, you've
already been there.”

My eyes snapped open, and I turned around.
Brody was looking at me, but it was Guy who answered. “It's
probably bugged.”

I nodded in agreement but kept my eyes
trained on Brody. “I've never been there,” I said in an even
tone.

“No?” he asked in surprise. “I just
thought... Wait, I wouldn't record our conversations.”

None of us responded. We simply waited for
the realization to sink in. It took him less than 30 seconds.

“You think my apartment is bugged?” Brody
turned toward Guy.

“You're the head of CalTech. What do you
think?” Guy looked at me then. “Didn't you warn him?”

“I warned him to be careful!” I stared at
Brody. “In fact, I specifically told you not to talk about any of
our arrangements.”

He shook his head and stuttered, “I...I
haven't. I haven't told anyone anything about you.” He paused,
clearly trying to remember every conversation he'd had in his
apartment over the past year.

Guy gave him some time before he asked,
“Have you said anything that could be used against you?”

“I don't think so. Other than our meetings
at the Dry Martini, I know I haven't spoken a word about any of our
arrangements.” He emphasized the word arrangements.

“Just keep driving,” I instructed Eberhardt.
“We'll talk in here.” I turned as far as my seat belt would
allow.

Brody wasn't looking at me anymore. He
studied Guy, and Guy looked right back at him. “So you're her
boss?”

We spoke simultaneously. “No!”

He turned back to me. “Who should I be
talking to then?”

Guy sighed. “Do you know what a Freelancer
is?”

Brody nodded.

“Then you understand that Kendra is in
charge of her own actions.” He used my alias, but when he said
'Kendra' he looked at me and realization hit.

He thinks I should tell Brody the truth. I
thought about the past year, about all of our weekly “board
meetings,” about all that he had agreed to. Brody had come through
every time with no questions asked.

Guy continued, “You're her client, so talk
to her.” He looked out the window and left the rest up to me.

I instructed Eberhardt to pull over so Guy
and I could change places. It would be easier to talk with Brody if
I weren't getting a crick in my neck.

“Okay, where to begin?”

“How about with that pendant? I'm sure I
would have remembered if you'd worn it before.”

I dug in my purse and pulled out a business
card. It featured my real name and contact number over a faint
imprint of a serpent striking at a coin. I handed it to Brody.

“Keira? Not Kendra? All this time...”

“Use public transceivers to call me. Your
line is probably tapped, and I'm finally trusting you with this.
Don't make me regret it.”

“Or what? You'll put a butter knife to my
throat?”

I smiled. “You'd be surprised what I can do
with a butter knife. But seriously, the wrong people could find
me.”

“And that would be bad.”

“Yes.”

“They'd kill you?”

“No, it would be much worse.” One lone tear
trailed down my cheek. I hurriedly brushed it away.

“What's worse than death?” Brody asked.

“That's a story for another time.”

Kendra. No, Keira. That would take some
getting used to. “Can you tell me about the symbol? I recognize it,
but I don't know what it means.”

Instead of answering directly, she touched
her pendant. “Where have you seen this before?”

“A co-worker's doodles.”

Keira looked surprised, as did both men in
the front seat. I still didn't know their names. She turned her
attention to the one who wasn't her boss, the one she had been
intimate with outside of The Dry Martini. He looked familiar, but I
couldn't quite place him. Was he the reason she'd told me she
wasn't available a year ago?

“Do we have someone else at CalTech?” she
asked.

The man shook his head, and Keira returned
her attention to me.

“Who?”

Finally, some leverage. “What does it
mean?”

“It's the symbol for the Resistance. You
really have been helping to save lives, Brody. I never lied to you
about that.”

“Oh, you lied to me. Omissions, a false
name...you lied plain and simple.”

“Well, it was necessary.” She had the
decency to look uncomfortable.

“It's my secretary, Irene. Do you think
she's part of the Resistance too?”

“No. How long has she worked for you?”

“Just a few weeks in her current position,
but she was with the company long before that.”

The driver spoke up then. “Could be she's
looking for help.”

His sentiment surprised me. With his large
size and muscular build, he didn't exactly look the type to be
advocating for the weak.

“It's possible, but it's more likely she's a
long term plant,” the other man said.

Keira listened to them but watched me.
“Brody, would you trust Irene with your life?”

“No.” I'd learned the unhappy truth that
being at the top meant I couldn't trust anyone.

“Then don't trust her at all, but treat her
just the same as always. Otherwise, they'll know something has
changed.”

“They?”

“The Gov probably,” Keira said. “If you have
a long term plant, then somebody pretty high up is interested in
you. It's likely because of your ties to us.”

“Or it could be because I'm the head of one
of the top security companies in the realm.” Should I tell them
about the contract?

“It's best not to assume anything,” the
driver reminded us.

The man in the passenger seat spoke again.
“Keira's right. Don't trust Irene. Something doesn't feel right. If
she asks you about the Resistance directly, tell her you think it's
an urban legend. Then notify us. Oh, and give Keira her card
back.”

“Why?” I looked at the business card still
in my hand.

“Take this instead.” He wrote her number on
a blank scrap of paper and handed it to me.

I returned the business card to Keira.

“Remember, only call that number in an
emergency and only from a transceiver that's not yours.” He looked
at both of us. “You two need to continue to meet just as you have
been. Don't do anything different. Don't change your routines.”

“Or something worse than death could
happen,” I said.

They let me off in a well lit area within
walking distance of the company car, a black convertible. A year
ago, I'd have been in way over my head. But not now.

As Eberhardt maneuvered back into traffic,
Keira's stomach grumbled loudly.

“Thunderstorm's approaching,” Eberhardt
said. He caught my eye in the rear view mirror. I'd returned to the
backseat when we dropped off Brody.

I smiled and draped my arm around Keira's
shoulders. “Anyone still care for dessert?”

The Coffee Shoppe no longer looked overly
crowded, but I was relieved when Keira said, “Can't we take it
home?” Eberhardt graciously offered to run in. Keira sighed and
leaned against me. I shifted so she could rest her head on my
shoulder. It brought back a memory of the night we'd first met;
she'd leaned against me in just this way.

“What's on your mind?” I asked.

“Just wondering.”

“About what?”

“Are they after me or us?”

“We're back to that?”

“The last time we thought they were trying
to bring down the Resistance, we were wrong. What if we're wrong
again?”

I sighed. “Well, we know someone is after
you, and we know many oppose the Resistance. We would have to be
naive to assume otherwise.”

“Paranoia, what a way to live!” she said as
Eberhardt climbed back into the car.

The glow from a streetlamp briefly
illuminated the scar on his left cheek. Then it was gone, hidden in
shadows.

“Paranoia, I can tell you a thing or two
about that,” he said.

Since his wife's death a couple of months
ago, Eberhardt had thrown himself into his work. Training sessions
for various groups of Raiders now took place on a daily basis, and
as a result, Eberhardt got two, and sometimes three, workouts a
day.

Back at the apartment, I balanced the box of
tiramisu with one hand and unlocked the front door with the other.
Using my right foot and shoulder, I held the door open for Keira.
She hurried inside and entered the security code. Eberhardt had
already returned to his own smaller apartment downstairs. I set the
tiramisu on the dining table while Keira retrieved dessert plates
and forks from the kitchen. I watched as she took her first
bite.

Keira closed her eyes. “Mmm, this is
delicious!”

I smiled. “Happy anniversary.”

She opened her eyes and smiled too. Then she
took another bite.

“You did really well tonight.”

She didn't respond. I took her cue, and we
ate in silence, enjoying the creamy decadence. When she'd finished
her last bite and had pushed her plate away, Keira was finally
ready to talk.

“What are we going to do?” she asked.

“Like I said in the car, we're going to keep
to our routines. To do otherwise would only alert the wrong
people.”

“That's all?”

“No. I have an idea. The next time you meet
with Brody, I want you to ask him to get someone else past security
at the airport.”

“What? But if they're onto us, shouldn't we
avoid that?”

I reached across the table and took her hand
in mine. “If they really were onto us, we wouldn't be sitting here
having this conversation. I think they're still looking for proof,
so you need to ask him to get someone through, a couple or a small
group if possible.”

“Who?”

“Let Brody decide, someone he knows
personally, as a favor. If he does this for friends now and then,
who's to say the others we've sent through weren't friends of his
too?”

“Okay, I'll ask him next week.” She picked
at her nails. Keira only did that when she was worried.

“You've seemed off for days now. Is it
April?”

She nodded and corrected me. “She prefers
Aimee now. She'll be coming home in just a couple of weeks.”

“I'd think that would make you happy.”

“It does.”

I waited for her to continue.

“Guy, she's been...I don't know...reserved,
I guess. Every time I went to visit her, she...she refused to talk
about it, any of it.”

I moved my chair closer and laced my fingers
through hers. “Who can blame her? It was traumatic. She probably
just wants to forget.”

“It's not just that...she hasn't talked with
me even once about the baby! The last time I was there she was
really showing, and there was nothing.” She shook her head as she
continued, “Who doesn't talk about something like that with her own
sister?”

It was Scott who had called us the night
Nadine was born. He'd said Aimee was too tired to talk just then.
That was understandable. But in the days and weeks that had
followed, Aimee had cut off all communication, and Keira had become
moody and withdrawn. I'd called Scott and suggested sending Keira
over for one last visit before Aimee's return, but he had advised
against it.

Keira looked at me with tears in her
eyes.

“Come here.” Together we stood and walked
toward the sofa in the living room. I turned off the lights as we
moved past. This apartment was right in the middle of a downtown
Elite neighborhood. Out the window, we could see hundreds of lights
glittering in the darkness. From this vantage, Tkaron was a
beautiful sight. We just sat, me with my arm around her, she with
her head resting on my shoulder. It was our most comfortable
position.

Finally, I spoke. “Aimee is going to need
you. She's going to need your support even if it feels like she's
pushing you away. I think you two should live together for a
while.”

“You want her to move in here?” she asked in
surprise.

“No, you should move back to the other
building.”

“To a Working Class neighborhood? Isn't she
supposed to be Elite?”

“It's not exactly a Working Class
neighborhood. It's right on the edge. There are other Elite
tenants.”

“We'd have to share a room.”

“No, you won't. I've been anticipating her
return, so I sold that apartment and upgraded to a two bedroom on
the tenth floor. CalTech has already installed security, and
Raquelle has modified the system to include thumbprint recognition.
You'll both have space and privacy. I'll even ask Eberhardt to move
back into his old apartment, just in case either of you need
him.”

Keira's eyes narrowed. “You have been
thinking about this, and you're talking like it's a job.”

“Would it help you to think of it like
that?”

She hesitated and then nodded. “Maybe.”

We sat in silence.

Suddenly Keira turned to me. “Will I need to
prepare the apartment for Nadine too?”

“I don't know. I suppose so.”

It was frustrating, this lack of
communication. The baby was nearly three months old, and all we
knew was her gender and name.

“You should call Scott tomorrow. We'll need
to know which flight she'll be taking anyway.”

Keira leaned against me again. “Guy?”

“Yes?”

“I'm ready for bed. You?”

“Sure.” There was a lot more to discuss, but
it could wait a little longer.

The next morning, we awoke to the sun
streaming in through the bedroom window. It looked like the start
of a glorious day, golden and bright. After a hot shower and an
enjoyable breakfast, maybe then we could finally talk about
expectations. We had the whole day to discuss what it would
mean.