Quicksilver (19 page)

“You don’t think it’s going to work?” I asked, making an effort to sound anxious. Not that I wasn’t concerned about getting it wrong, but so far everything I’d built had performed exactly as it should. I was more worried about whether Sebastian had given me the right specifications in the first place.

“I, uh, wouldn’t say that,” Barry replied with a sideways glance at the 3-D printer, where Len was working. “You seem to have a really good handle on what you’re doing. I’m just not sure I understand
what
you’re doing.”

“Well,” I said slowly as my brain scrambled for a plausible answer, “I kind of wanted something more versatile…”

My phone rang, sparing me the rest of the sentence. “Excuse me,” I said to Barry and hurried off to the lounge. “Hello?”

“It’s me.” Milo sounded tense. I could hear rumbling in the background and the slow beep of a truck backing up for a late delivery. “You know that ex-cop you said was looking for you? Becker?”

Cold crept up my spine. “Deckard. What about him?”

“He’s here in the store. Right now.”

PART THREE: Hunting

(The undesirable oscillation that occurs when a feedback control system is unable to reduce the error rate to zero)

1 0 0 1 0 0

My legs felt shaky, and I gripped the corner of the bookshelf for support. I’d known Deckard might come to town looking for Sebastian, but I’d never dreamed his search would lead him so quickly to me.

“Niki?” asked Milo, faint and tinny. “You there?”

“How—” I cleared my throat. “How do you know it’s Deckard?”

“Because he showed me your picture and asked me if I recognized you,” said Milo. “Said you were a missing girl who’d been seen in the area, and there’d be a reward if I helped him find you.”

I leaned harder on the bookcase and closed my eyes. Milo went on, “I told him you worked at the Tim Horton’s on the corner. I thought if I could get him to leave, I could run around and tell Jon and the others he was a stalker. But when I came up to the front, he was by the manager’s office, looking at the staff board.”

Which had my picture on it, of course. With my name underneath, in large friendly letters. I groped along the sofa and sat down.

“I tried to sneak back to the stockroom, but he saw me,” Milo said. “Then he called me over and showed me another picture. A still from a security video, with the two of us together. From the night you stopped the bus.”

My throat felt like someone had soldered it shut. “Go on.”

“So I played the stalker card myself,” he said. “I said you’d told me you were hiding from a creepy ex-boyfriend and that I shouldn’t talk about you to anybody but the police. That seemed to work, because he backed off and let me go. But he’s still in the store. He’s talking to Jon right now.”

And not only did Jon Van Beek know exactly where I lived, he had my cell number. Friendly, trusting, farm-raised Jon, who would probably never guess this clean-cut, soft-spoken man would do me any harm. Especially if Deckard pulled out that medical emergency story he’d used on Alison, because Jon would love a chance to be my hero.

In short, I was doomed.

“So what are we going to do?” Milo asked, and his voice seemed to be coming from a billion miles away. I stared at the word clock on the wall, which said IT IS FIVE AFTER EIGHT, and tried to think.

I couldn’t go back to Value Foods, not now that Deckard knew I worked there. So there went my job. I couldn’t be seen with Milo, because Deckard would be watching him. So there went my best friend, quasi boyfriend, and partner in crime. I couldn’t even go home, because now that Deckard had my name, it wouldn’t take him long to hunt down my address. Nothing in my life was secure anymore, and nowhere was safe. The only thing to do was run.

But I couldn’t do that, either. Not before I’d finished this transceiver. Because what was the use of hiding from Deckard and Dr. Gervais, if Mathis got to me first?

“I don’t know,” I said to Milo. “I don’t know what to do.”

For five seconds Milo didn’t answer. Then he said in a decisive voice, “Stay where you are. I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”

1 0 0 1 0 1

By the time my phone rang again, I’d pulled myself together. I even had the beginnings of a plan. “Okay,” I told Milo, “so once Deckard leaves—”

“Wait,” said Milo. “Let me go first. I just got off the phone with your dad.”

“You
what?
He’s not even home tonight. How’d you get his cell number?”

“Emergency contact,” Milo said. “It was in your file. Anyway, I told him a guy you used to know came into the store looking for you, and you were scared, so you hid out in the back with me. And now you’re afraid to leave in case he follows you home.”

“Okay,” I said slowly. It wasn’t a bad story—it had the advantage of being simple and mostly true. It would also throw my parents into a panic, but I couldn’t see any alternative. It’d be worse if Deckard showed up at the door and caught them unprepared.

“But I told him not to worry,” said Milo, “because I’ve asked my grandparents to pick you up and take you to their house instead. You can even stay overnight with them, if you need to.”

“You mean your
mother’s
parents? Your mother, who’s not supposed to know anything about—”

“Never mind that,” he said. “I’ll explain later. How soon can you get to the 7-Eleven on Caledonia?”

This whole conversation was beginning to feel surreal. “Twenty minutes?”

“Good. I’ll tell my grandparents to pick you up there. And your dad said not to call him. He’ll call you in an hour or so. Gotta go.”

Click.

I lowered the phone and found Barry peering down at me from the top of the ramp. “Problems?” he asked.

“No,” I lied. “I just have to leave a bit earlier tonight.”

1 0 0 1 1 0

From the outside Milo’s grandparents’ place didn’t look like much, just the right side of a two-story semi with dirty white siding and peeling shutters. The driveway was cracked in three places, and the front steps had an eight-degree tilt to the left. But inside the house was cozy and spotlessly clean, with tropical plants standing in pots and spilling over the tops of the bookcases and framed Bible verses hanging on the walls.

Most of the verses were in Korean, but the one directly across from me was in English: LET THE BEAUTY OF THE LORD OUR GOD BE UPON US. It was done in brush calligraphy and decorated with silk flowers that looked handmade. Maybe that was Mrs. Park’s hobby.

“I am sorry you’ve had such a frightening experience,” said Milo’s grandmother, pouring me a cup of herbal tea. Her voice was soft and lilting, every word precise. “This must be very hard for you.”

“Thank you,” I said, suppressing a shiver. It had been raining when I left the makerspace, but I’d only got slightly damp, so why did I feel so cold? As Mrs. Park poured more tea for her husband and herself, I clutched the mug to my chest, inhaling deep breaths of grassy-smelling steam.
Relax,
I told myself
. You’re safe here.

Still, it was hard not to wonder why two near-total strangers would go out of their way to help me. Sure, they’d come to my register a few times, and I’d always smiled and tried to make conversation. But what had I done to earn their hospitality? Nothing, as far as I could see. So either they adored Milo so much that they’d do anything he wanted or they had some motive of their own…

Like suspecting their grandson was going out with me, for instance. It was the most natural explanation. But if they’d guessed that we were together, did they approve or disapprove? They’d treated me graciously so far, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. My parents were polite to everybody too, even people they despised.

Milo’s grandfather broke into my thoughts, asking whether I had talked to the police about the man who was threatening me. I was wondering how to explain that my “stalker” was an ex-cop who apparently had half the local force eating doughnuts out of his hand when the phone rang, and Mrs. Park answered it. She spoke a few words in Korean and handed the receiver to her husband, who rose and went into the study, shutting the door behind him.

“Someone from the church,” she said. “A pastor’s life is very busy.”

I knew there was a Korean church in town. I hadn’t realized Milo’s grandfather was the pastor. It should have been a relief to know that the Parks had taken me in as an act of Christian charity, but somehow it didn’t help much. Especially when I glanced toward the dining room and spotted a text reading THE TRUTH WILL MAKE YOU FREE.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. “Please excuse me,” I said to Mrs. Park, setting my cup down and getting up quickly from the sofa. “It’s my dad calling.”

1 0 0 1 1 1

The conversation went better than I’d feared, at least to begin with. Dad had already guessed that the guy who’d come into the store must be Deckard, so he wasn’t surprised to hear it. He even agreed that I’d done the right thing by going to Milo’s grandparents instead of coming home. But the best plan he could come up with was for him and Mom to pack some suitcases, pick me up, and jump on the first plane to Calgary—and there was no way I could go along with that.

“Even if Deckard knows where we live, it’s not like he’s going to crash through the front door and hold us at gunpoint,” I argued as I paced across the Parks’ back patio and onto the lawn. It was too quiet inside for private conversation, so I’d gone outside to take the call. “This isn’t the USA, and he’s not a policeman anymore. Besides, it’s me he wants, not you or Mom, so if I’m obviously not at home—”

“Obviously? I can’t see how it’s going to be obvious unless we let him in to search the place. And then what are we supposed to tell him? That you ran away?”

I almost said
yes,
but that wouldn’t work, because then Deckard would have the perfect excuse to call out his cop buddies to search for me. “Not exactly,” I said. “Tell him I’ve left town, with your permission. And that you don’t know where I’ve gone or when I’ll be back.”

Dad spluttered. “Are you crazy? There’s no way we’d let you take off on your own without—”

“I said you should
tell
him that, not I’m actually planning to do it. I don’t want to go anywhere. I just want Deckard to leave you and Mom alone.”

“And you think he’ll give up that easily?” Dad asked. “I’m not afraid of Deckard: he can’t do anything to me. But your mother’s a different story. If he turns up at the front door looking for you, she’ll never feel safe in this town again.”

He lowered his voice on the last sentence, as though he’d only just realized how loudly he’d been talking. But I could tell there was more going on than that. “You mean you haven’t told Mom anything about what happened tonight?” I asked. “She doesn’t know about Deckard or—any of it?”

“Not yet.” He sighed. “She was in the washroom when Milo called me. He told me you were safe for now, and I … didn’t want to spoil her evening out.”

But that wouldn’t stop him from telling her the truth eventually, unless I gave him a reason not to. Somehow I had to convince him to let me stay here until I’d finished the transceiver … but how?

Then, in a white-lightning flash of intuition, I knew.

“Okay,” I said. “How about this? Don’t tell Mom anything yet. Take her out of town for the weekend—use that getaway package you got from work or something. I’ll stay with Milo’s grandparents, where Deckard can’t find me. If he comes to the house tonight or tomorrow, it’ll be empty and he can draw his own conclusions.”

“And what good’s that going to do? All he has to do is stake out the place and wait until we get back.”

“He won’t if he thinks we’re gone for good,” I said. “There’s a guy I know who’s brilliant with computers, and he owes me a favor. He can fake up some flight and hotel reservations, and make Deckard think we’ve gone to Newfoundland or something.” Assuming I could get hold of Sebastian on short notice, of course. But I suspected that if I really needed him, he’d be around.

“Then what?” Dad asked. “Seems to me we’re just delaying the inevitable. He’s going to figure out the truth eventually.”

“Maybe,” I said. “But isn’t it worth trying? We can’t keep moving and changing our names every six months. I’ve seen the bills, Dad. I know how hard you’ve been working. Next time we move we’re going to end up in a trailer park if we’re lucky, and after that we’ll be living on the streets. Do you really want that? Because I don’t.”

Dad was silent, and I knew I’d hurt him. He’d worked hard to protect his family, and I’d as good as told him that he’d failed. But he wasn’t arguing, either, and that meant he was close to giving in.

“Dad,” I said, “It’s not that I don’t appreciate everything you and Mom have done for me. You’ve given up so much…” My voice wobbled on the last word. I swallowed and tried again. “Look, if my plan to get rid of Deckard doesn’t work, then fine, we can run. But can we at least try my idea first? Please?”

Six seconds ticked by in silence. Then my dad said heavily, “All right. I’ll talk to your mother.”

1 0 1 0 0 0

As soon as I got off the phone with Dad I texted Sebastian, and this time he answered right away. Once I’d explained the situation to him, he even seemed to relish the challenge.

–Leave Deckard to me. I’ll keep him busy.

–Good to know you haven’t lost your knack for messing with people’s heads. At least this time you can do it to somebody who deserves it.

Which was rude and possibly ill-advised, but I wasn’t worried about offending Sebastian. He needed this transceiver too badly to risk losing me, and he was hardly going to sell me out to Deckard because he didn’t like my attitude. In fact, he was probably smart enough to have guessed where my sniping remarks were coming from—because it was easier to blame him for Alison’s unhappiness than to admit that I was just as guilty.