Zig Zag (24 page)

A
pair
of eyes watched her as she moved, naked, throughout the room.

That
was when she first got the feeling that something was wrong. It was
just a vague premonition of what was to come, though at the time she
didn't know what it was. Only later did she come to realize that
those eyes were just the beginning.

Those
eyes weren't really evil; they were just the door to evil.

SHE
didn't
start to feel uneasy until they took her to the house.

Right
up until then, everything had seemed normal, even fun. Having a man
in an expensive suit waiting for her at the airport in Zurich,
holding a sign that bore her name, seemed like a charming
confirmation of Swiss meticulousness. She stifled a giggle when she
realized, rushing to keep up with his long strides, that she'd
assumed he was a colleague and was about to start discussing physics.
Actually, he was the chauffeur.

The
ride in the dark Volkswagen was enjoyable, and she stared out the
window at the lush landscape, so utterly different from the wide-open
golden fields surrounding Madrid. She saw a thousand different shades
of green, and it reminded her of the colored pencils she'd used in
her sketchbooks as a girl (actually, weren't those Swiss pencils?).
She'd been to Switzerland before: in college, she spent a few weeks
at CERN, the European Organization for Nuclear Research, in Geneva.
Now, they were going to the Technical Research in Physics laboratory
in Zurich, where she had a room reserved. She'd never been to the
famous lab where the sequoia theory was born, but she'd seen
countless pictures of the building.

That's
why she frowned when it became clear that, in fact, this was not
where they were taking her.

They
were probably a few kilometers north of Zurich (she'd seen
"Dubendorf" on a sign), on what looked like a farm with
pretty trees, a well-manicured lawn, and fancy cars parked at the
entrance.
The
producer's house. They're filming a movie.
The
chauffeur opened the door for her and grabbed her suitcase.
Is
this where I'm going to stay?
But
she didn't even have time to think. A man who'd clearly been to the
same tailor as the chauffeur asked her to take off her jacket and
then patted under her arms and down her legs with some sort of metal
detector. He found her house keys, cell phone, and loose change, all
of which were returned intact. Then he led her through the silent
house, in which the hardwood floors shone so deeply they seemed to
reflect the water from the lake. Finally, he left her with another
man who said his name was Cassimir.

If
his name and broken Spanish hadn't already given him away, Cassimir
had plenty of other qualities that made it clear he was not from the
Iberian Peninsula. He was blond and built like a house, and his pasty
Anglo-Saxon skin tone contrasted sharply with the black turtleneck
and gray trousers he wore. He was obviously in charge of welcoming
her. He asked all the requisite questions. Had she had a good flight?
Had she ever been to Switzerland before? And so on. As he asked her
these and other questions, he led her to a bright office and asked
her to have a seat at a hardwood desk made of what looked like
cherry. Behind Cassimir's chair, a large window opened onto the
clear, sunny Swiss day, and to Elisa's left (Cassimir's right), a
long mirror reflected a double of the room, showing another Elisa
with wavy black hair, a pink tank top that underscored her tan skin
and white bra strap (her mother couldn't stand that she let her bra
strap show; she found it "vulgar"), tight jeans, and tennis
shoes. Also reflected was an enormous Cassimir clone in silhouette,
his fingers laced together. She stifled a laugh, recalling an erotic
video she'd downloaded off the Internet once, in which a girl was
asked to take off her clothes in the office of a (porno) film
producer, while from the other side of the two-way mirror, someone
watched her. I
know
someone is watching me from the other side of that mirror. This is
white slavery, and they're assessing the goods before they accept
them.

"Professor
Blanes isn't here." Cassimir had taken out two sets of papers,
one blue and one white. "But as soon as you read and sign these,
you'll be meeting with him. These are the general provisions. Read
them carefully because there are some things we weren't able to set
up before you got here. If you have any questions, just ask. Can I
get you a coffee, a refreshment?"

"No,
thanks."

"How
do you say it in Spanish? Is it 'refreshment' or 'refreshing'?"
Cassimir asked with giddy curiosity. And when Elisa cleared it up for
him, he explained agreeably, "I mix those up sometimes."

The
papers were all written in perfect Spanish. The white ones bore the
notation "work-related," but the blue ones said only "A6."
Cassimir clarified what that meant.

"The
blue ones are the confidentiality agreement. Why don't you read that
first?"

She
saw her name in capital letters surrounded by a sea of text and was
overcome by another wave of apprehension. She hadn't been expecting
her name to be written in the same font as the rest of the document.
She'd expected something pro forma with her name handwritten on a
dotted line. Upon seeing
Elisa
Robledo Morande
typed
out just like the rest of it, she was shocked. It was as if this had
been made out expressly for her, as if they'd gone to too much
trouble over her.

"All
clear?" Cassimir asked solicitously.

"Well,
here it says that I can't publish anything..."

"For
a time, yes, but that only applies to the research you carry out with
Professor Blanes. Read down below, Clause 5c... This prohibition
applies only to said research for a period of at least two years, but
that doesn't stop you from publishing studies with Professor Blanes
or any other professor, as long as it's on a different subject. And
then look at the following clause. You have the chance to do your PhD
with Professor Blanes as long as it's not directly related to your
time here... If you read the white papers, where it says, Amount of
Stipend,' you'll see it's very generous. And that doesn't include
your housing, which is free. You only pay for food and personal
expenses. You get paid every month, like a salary, through December
of this year."

The
voice speaking to her about the blue papers, which were full of
headings she barely understood ("Post-contractual
Confidentiality Clause," "Norms of Investigation for EU
State Security," "Penal Code for Revealing State Secrets
and Classified Information"), was much colder. But it wasn't the
legalese that concerned her; it was Cassimir's good-natured
insistence, the way he kept trying to smooth things over so she
wouldn't worry, his persistent attempts to cut everything into
bite-sized chunks for her, so she could swallow it all without
complaining.

"If
you prefer, I can leave you alone so you can take your time and read
everything carefully. Please take your time."

She
looked up and blinked at the sun glaring through the window, noticing
something she (absurdly) hadn't seen until just then. Cassimir was
wearing glasses. When had he put them on? Had he been wearing them
the whole time? She became fixated on that detail and other
questions, her mind swirling in confusion.

"What
exactly does the job consist of?"

"Helping
Professor Blanes."

"Helping
him do what?"

"Research."

She
forced herself not to be sarcastic. From the mirror, the other Elisa
scowled back at her.

"What
I'm getting at is, what
kind
of
research will I be carrying out with Professor Blanes?"

Cassimir
smiled. "Oh, I couldn't tell you anything about that. I'm not a
physicist."

"Well,
if you don't mind, I'd like to know what I'm going to be doing."

"You'll
find out very soon. We'll get things going the same minute you accept
the conditions. 'The same minute?' Is that right? No, 'the very
minute,'" he corrected himself.

"What
conditions?"

"As
soon as you sign, I mean."

This
is absurd. We're going around in circles.
If
her mother were there, she thought, she would have pointed out the
unmistakable Elisa-Robledo-Pissed-Off-Smile. But Mr. Cassimir wasn't
her mother, and he was smiling, too.

"Look.
I'm not signing anything until I find out what I'm going to be
doing."

Cassimir
(and his mirror-reflected image) feigned irritation.

"I
told you. You're going to be helping Professor Blanes with his
research..."

"What's
EG SECURITY?" Elisa decided to change tactics and pointed to a
line on one of the white pages. "It's all over the place. What
is it?"

"Oh,
they're our main financial backers. They're some sort of consortium
of different research firms..."

"Does
EG stand for Eagle Group?"

"Oh,
I don't work for them, and I don't know what the initials stand for."

Oh,
you're so clever, Mr. "Oh!"
Elisa
decided to cut the politeness crap and go for a full-frontal attack
on Mr. Oh.

"Are
you the ones who've been keeping tabs on me the past few weeks? Who
put a transmitter in my cell phone and made me respond to all those
questions on the questionnaire?"

She
enjoyed watching his smile vanish, seeing the disconcerted look on
his face. It was obvious that Cassimir was used to dealing with more
passive clients, or maybe he'd just underestimated her, thinking that
a young woman would be easier to manipulate.

"Excuse
me, but..."

"No,
excuse
me.
I
think you already know plenty about lil' old me. Now it's my turn to
get some answers."

"Miss..."

"I
want to speak to Professor Blanes. After all, I'm going to be working
with him."

"I
told you, he's not here."

"Well,
somebody had better at least tell me what it is I'm going to be
doing."

"You're
not allowed to know," a different voice said, in perfect
English.

A
man had just emerged from a door beside the mirror, behind Elisa. He
was tall and thin, and wearing an impeccably tailored suit. His blond
hair was graying at the temples and his mustache was carefully
groomed. Another man, short and stocky, was with him.
So
they
were
spying
on me.
Her
heart was pounding.

"You
speak English, don't you?" he continued in a mellifluous voice,
walking over to her. Unlike Cassimir, he neither offered his hand nor
extended any sort of courtesy. His eyes freaked Elisa out a little.
They were cold and blue, like cut glass. "I'm Harrison. This is
Carter. We're in charge of security. I repeat: you are not allowed to
know anything. We ourselves know nothing. This project is considered
classified, it's top secret. Professor Blanes needs young scientists
on board, and you were chosen as one of them."