Spectre of Intention Page 9

  “It’s a test run of an actual canister car. This canister is just full of supplies for the space station, but it’s the first run since the cable was completed two days ago.”

  My head still swayed. My body wanted to tremble against his body wrapped so tightly around me. I tried to remember how to focus.

  “Two days ago?”

  “Yeah, a full three weeks ahead of schedule.”

  “Slander and lies. Every contractor on the planet will see you hung.”

  “They aren’t contractors. They’re our own engineers.”

  “Oh.”

  He chuckled with his lips pressed into my hair.

  “Here it comes.”

  The elevator platform was fully retracted now. The ship moaned and then shifted ever so slightly under our feet. A glass dome shaped like a bullet rose slowly into view, growing wider, then wider, then wider.

  It had my attention now.

  A band of metal, then more glass. Section, after section, after section. The two paddles became visible. No, not paddles. Those were the receiving panels for the lasers which powered the elevator. That was only the midway point.

  “Oh, my god. It’s huge!” I whispered.

  “Just wait.”

  More sections. Up and up. Then a long, long swath of white-paneled hull. And finally, the space elevator came to a stop suspended just feet above the edge of the platform. Breathtakingly slowly, the platform rolled closed beneath it. The elevator ribbon was barely visible from where we stood. The long, elegant bullet appeared to dangle in mid-air.

  “It looks like it’s going to fall.”

  “Amazing isn’t it?”

  Now the panels rotated around the center of the machine. With precise movements, they aligned with the lasers below them. A slight jerk and they locked into place. Then, like a train, the elevator glided into motion, slowly, then faster, then faster—graceful, smooth, and impossible. Cam and I stood watching it until our eyes could no longer perceive its movement, until it just appeared to dangle forever between sea and sky.

  “I never get tired of watching that.”

  I turned my head toward him. “Unbelievable. It was nothing like I expected.”

  Cam pulled me in tighter.

  “Yeah, kind of like someone else I know.”

  I smiled and leaned back to rest my cheek against his shoulder. After a quick squeeze, he released me, gave my arms a brisk rub.

  “Come on, I’d better feed you before I send you back or I have a feeling Jessie will have my hide.”

  He led me around to my chair and I took my seat.

  “I’ll be right back. I need to let Phil know we’re out here.”

  I nodded. I could feel that familiar jitter in him ramping up as I watched him walk away. By the time he got back, his intention had shifted to a lashing, snapping swirl of mistrust and indecision. But it still reached for me. It still pulled.

  I sighed.

  “Tired?” he asked.

  I sat up and pasted a smile on my face. Game time.

  “A little.” I leaned forward, tried to recapture some of that energy and fascination from just a moment before. “So, I have a question for you: Who goes? Up there.”

  “Just engineers, technicians. We’re swapping out the crew a little—”

  “No, I mean the settlers, the clients. You said that you never wanted for investors. Who is it who’s so desperate to run away? What is so awful that they would take such a huge risk?”

  I looked up to the heavens where the elevator had become entangled with a low-lying cloud. I felt a subtle change in his intention, a slight softening.

  “Run away,” he repeated.

  I kept my eyes turned away, but that softening tugged at me. The door to Ashley’s closet slipped open. She wandered out into my mind as I spoke.

  “It’s so dangerous. They have everything to lose. They will never see or hear from their friends and family again. They may get there and find their assigned planet totally uninhabitable. They may never even survive the voyage and if they do, just the physical and mental hardships of establishing the settlement…I can’t even imagine. But you say you’ve never lacked for investors.” But I was starting to see it, starting to understand. Because maybe I was starting to understand just what it was to feel that hopeless and terrified, like there were simply no choices left.

  “Some of them are desperate,” Cam replied slowly. “But…for most it is a leap of faith.”

  I looked down at my place setting, trying to coax Ashley back into the darkness, but I was too emotionally off balance.

  “Like Will’s Pilgrims and their comets?”

  Cam was watching me far too closely; his hand reached for mine across the slightly slick glass table top. He played his thumb over my knuckles.

  “Yeah, that’s a fair comparison. We even get our fair share of religious groups looking to create their own promised land. But whatever brings them here, Will demands complete honesty with regards to the chances of success. And the Pilgrims themselves knew what they were getting into. There had been no successful settlement before them. Will tosses out some pretty scary statistics on the most famous one, Jamestown. The original settlement had 108 people. 38 survived the first year. Then they built it up to 500. Only 60 survived the winter. The Pilgrims knew that, but they packed up their wives and children and went anyway. Without the leap of faith, how desperate do you think they would have had to be?”

  I shook my head, mesmerized by the movement of his hand.

  “More desperate than me.”

  His intention went still, the only sound the breeze through the potted palm behind him.

  “Have you…have you ever been that desperate, Kaitlin?”

  A memory slipped through: kissing my unknowing mother goodbye for the last time, her beautiful brown eyes so happy to see me. God, I missed her so much it hurt.

  But I smiled at the table, tilted my head up to him.

  “How ’bout you? Have you ever been that desperate, Cam?”

  Cam gave my hand a squeeze.

  “Secrets, Kaitlin. Secrets.”

  Then he pulled his hand away.

  It was irresponsible of me, but I meandered my way back to our makeshift office. I strolled through the packed food court and tried to untangle my brain.

  Secrets.

  What would the Director of Port Security do with my secrets? So impossible to separate the man from the job. Who was I kidding chasing after a relationship with Camden Glaswell? Where the hell could it possibly go?

  Nowhere, Ashley whispered, nowhere at all.

  I looked at the crowd, picked out a family settling in over baskets of overstuffed sandwiches. I watched them. The boy flicked a pickle at his little sister. The dad laughed; the mother scolded. The sister retaliated with tiny handful of lettuce. I hadn’t felt so alone since my flight cross country from Seattle to Miami—like a wall, a huge wall of secrets stood between me and the rest of humanity. But how was I ever going to change that?

  Blankly, I turned away, turned down the empty hallway and headed for the elevator.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  A hand closed over my arm, tried to drag me into the employee entrance for the Chinese food stand. I jerked back, found myself face to face with Mak.

  Oh, shit.

  “I don’t give a fuck what you did to Stephan…” He got me by both arms and shoved me against the doorframe. “…you are going to give us those blueprints or I am going to show up in your room in the middle of the goddamn fucking night and slit your goddamn throat!”

  He rammed his forearm against my throat and flipped open a nasty serrated knife just at the periphery of my vision.

  “Got that, you worthless little cunt?”

  His rage beat into me until my own head roared with it; the sight of that knife left my mind numb.

  “I—” I coughed against the choking pressure of his arm. He shifted his clenched fist from my arm to my hair, yanking my he
ad back and leaving my neck exposed.

  He wanted so badly to kill me right there. He hated me that much. Why? I had to give him something. I had to interrupt his train of thought.

  I scrambled to grab my mini from my pocket.

  “I don’t have them—”

  “Don’t give me that, bitch.”

  The knife bit into my neck. My knees came loose. He wasn’t strong enough to hold me up like that. I started to slide down the wall.

  “Yet. Yet. Tomorrow.”

  Mak saw the mini in my hand. He grabbed it from me and threw it across the hall.

  “The meeting schedule. It’s on…”

  I clutched weakly at his arm. Abruptly, he released me, disappeared through the doorway. With the pressure gone, I lost myself in a violent coughing fit.

  “Miss, are you alright? Do you need some water?”

  I glanced over, saw a woman’s black flats. I nodded to her, keeping my hair down over the welts on my neck. But through the tears and the pain, Kaitlin smiled a feral smile. The woman walked away to get my water. I raised my head, crossed the hall, and gingerly retrieved my discarded mini.

  Fingerprints.

  Now who’s the worthless cunt, jackass?

  “Fingerprints?” Jessie eyed my mini suspiciously. Then he looked at my neck. “Do I even want to know how you got them?”

  “I’m saving the nervous breakdown for later.”

  “You are bleeding.”

  “Like I said: Later.”

  Jessie was very, very quiet for a very, very long time. His mind, not so much. Waves of protectiveness pulled at my shoulders, trying to draw me closer. Watchful anger radiated out through the narrow space. And fear. Fear nearly strong enough to take shape without Stephan’s help penetrated through me each time his gaze flicked over to the trickle of blood on my neck.

  I looked up and down the hallway, trying to give him space. Inside me, Ashley pounded against her door like some kind of enraged chimpanzee. Kaitlin simply stood quietly, ready for the next move.

  “They want the schematics.”

  Jessie’s eyebrows rose. “Wasn’t your Stephan some kind of small-time burglar? What do they want with the ship’s schematics?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe that’s what they’re here to steal.”

  It was possible, I realized, that it was just that simple. Those schematics were so tightly guarded that we hadn’t even been allowed a copy during the bidding process.

  “Your face is saying ‘but.’”

  I shook my head.

  “It doesn’t feel right. They’ve dug in here. They’re taking their time setting me up. They’re here to do something more than just lift some architectural drawings. They’ve got to be.”

  “It’s not your job to find out what that is, Osgood. Are we clear?”

  Already I could feel my fingers starting to shake. I let out a short laugh.

  “Don’t worry. I don’t think I’m cut out to be a secret agent.”

  “I’ll see what I can do about getting the prints off this. I’ll send it over to you, so you can ID the guy. This is your Mak, right? The one with the criminal record?”

  I nodded.

  “But once you confirm the ID, this goes straight to Cam. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Now go have your nervous breakdown,” he ordered gesturing down the hall to the ladies’ room.

  I’d intended to protest, but I heard the tremor in my laugh.

  “Yes, sir.”

  It was a swap.

  In the dim lamplight, I stared at the picture of Maxwell McKinnis on my workpad screen. Age 22. Residence: Seattle, Washington. The only reason this kid had a file was because he had participated in his elementary school fingerprinting program.

  Shit. So much for my career as a secret agent.

  It wasn’t a half bad swap. The kid did look a little like Mak. The names were similar. The age was way off, but the average interviewer might not notice that. More importantly, what the average interviewer would never notice was the way this kid’s eyes were capable of gentle happiness. Endless years of anger had etched lines around Mak’s eyes that would never disappear completely, not even in sleep.

  Hate.

  He hated me enough to want to kill me. Not casually, but personally. He actually wanted me dead.

  Why?

  Because of the girl from the botched burglary? Because of Stephan? I had a feeling the reasons would only make sense to Mak, even if I knew them.

  I raised my fingers to the cut just below the juncture of my jawbone and my ear. It burned and tore just the tiniest bit with the movement.

  …you are going to give us those blueprints or I am going to show up in your room in the middle of the goddamn fucking night and slit your goddamn throat!

  My heart tripped in my chest and I gripped my workpad tighter. I needed a new strategy. This file alone would not be enough to remove him from public life, from my life.

  I set the workpad on the nightstand, switched out the light, and brought the rough-satiny comforter up to my chin. I stared out into the darkness.

  I don’t give a fuck what you did to Stephan…

  My bark of laughter echoed around the room, sending a shiver chasing across my ribs. What I did to Stephan? What I did to Stephan? My gaze dropped to the shadows at the foot of my bed. I saw his dark eyes widen, his mouth go loose in shock.

  You left because of me. You are…you are terrified of me.

  I covered my face with my hands, but the image of him only grew clearer.

  I can’t leave you like this. God, please don’t hate me.

  I scrambled out of bed, kicking frantically at the sheets which grabbed at my ankles. For a second, I just clutched at my arms, pacing back and forth alongside the bed. He’d switched me off like a fucking light!

  And me sitting here in the same room, in the same exposed position, because switching rooms would be a pointless exercise, a futile gesture that would send red flags to Cam, but more importantly to Stephan and Mak. Like getting on the intercom and shouting that they were winning, that I was scared, and I was running. That after all their demonstrations, I was still stupid enough to think they couldn’t get to me anywhere, anytime.

  So here I was looking at the red circles I’d painted around myself. Alone, because I would never, ever use Jessie as a human shield.

  Stupid, so stupid. But dealing with whatever they decided to do to me was one thing. Surviving if they went through Jessie to get to me, that I could never do.

  I fisted my hands in my hair.

  Wildly, I broke out of my pacing and jogged over to the love seat, yanked the cushions free. Tucking them under one arm, I pulled the comforter from the bed, used my last free fingers to snag a pillow. I rammed the fluffy mass through the bathroom doorway. After an awkward struggle, I managed to get the door closed. With my feet, I shoved the cushions up against the door. The blanket and pillow came down with me, creating a lumpy, too small nest.

  I pushed my back up against that flimsy door and some of the tension released from my body. Good thoughts, Kaitlin ordered. Carefully, I took deliberate control of my breathing. Slow down.

  Good thoughts.

  Cam’s arms around me. Watching the elevator vanish from view. Cam’s lips on mine, his hands on my skin. The feeling of coming beautifully undone. His breath filling me. His vibrant energy washing away all that terrible pain. Those brilliant penetrating eyes watching me so carefully, knowing…something.

  “Secrets, Kaitlin. Secrets.”

  In that place between sleeping and waking, I whimpered.

  I was the first to spot J.C., the Port Operations Manager, peering in the door.

  Of course, my eye had almost never turned from that mark since I’d arrived in our temporary office two hours ago. I saw his gaze go to the disassembled conference table. I caught the little punch of displeasure. Trust Gerard not to ask before he took his power drill to something.

  But when J.C. caught
sight of what we had built in its stead, I felt his desire to check out the shiny new gadgets quickly overcome his annoyance. I waved him over.

  The four of us were just completing setup on two workstations—giant workpads on stilts. J.C. grinned at Jessie sitting cross-legged on the floor and pushed his thinning hair back from his eyes.

  “Now that’s what I like to see. Think I could get Will to lend a hand every once in a while down at the canister facility? That would be a picture.”

  Jessie waved a hand at me.

  “Blame her. Slave driver.”

  “He tried to convince me that it was far more presidential to be compiling reports and budget statistics poolside,” I acknowledged.

  Paula actually tossed her head back in laughter.

  Jessie shot her one of his rare smiles.

  “Hey, I can be presidential.”

  Paula blushed, but she was still chuckling as she returned to strapping the wiring to the leg of the work station.

  “Monitoring stations?” J.C. asked.

  I nodded. “This one is for the queue and this one is for the interview room. We’ll be—”

  “Which are completely freaking useless without my damn cameras,” Gerard griped, standing up from behind Big Blue.

  “Your cameras are coming, Gerard. Probably by Friday of next week,” I reminded him.

  “You know, I probably have a couple I can spare if you’ll put my damn table back together. Maybe next time you could call me and I’d have a couple of facilities guys come take it away instead of dismembering it.”

  “Yeah, Gerard,” Jessie muttered from underneath the station.

  Gerard threw his hands up, drill and all. “Hey, I’m not a ‘have your people call my people’ kinda guy. Now if one of you suits had been around when you were supposed to be…”

  I turned to J.C. “What Gerard is trying to say is that he would be happy to reassemble your table and that I will give you a call when it is ready to be picked up.”

  “Thank you. Now Cam said you were looking for this.” He held up a black plastic stick, the old-fashioned kind complete with USB jack.

  Gerard immediately grabbed it.