“I’ve slept enough.” David leaned back in the bed. “You’ve got to get out of here, Kate.”
“I’m not going anywhere—”
“Don’t. Don’t do that. Remember what you promised me? In the cottage by the sea. You said you would follow my orders. That was my only condition. Now I’m telling you to get out of here.”
“Well… Well… This is a medical decision, not a… whatever you call it, ‘command decision.’”
“Don’t play with words. Look at me. You know I can’t walk out of here, and I know how long that walk is. I’ve made it before—”
“About that, who is Andrew Reed?”
David shook his head. “Not important. He’s dead.”
“But they called y—”
“Killed in the mountains of Pakistan, not far from here, fighting the Immari. They’re good at killing people in these mountains. This is not a game, Kate.” He took her arm, dragging her down onto the bed. “Listen. You hear that, the low buzzing, like a bee in the distance?”
Kate nodded.
“Those are drones — predator drones. They’re looking for us, and when they find us, there’s nowhere we can run. You have to go.”
“I know. But not today.”
“I’m not—”
“I’ll go tomorrow, I promise.” Kate grabbed his hand and squeezed. “Just give me one day.”
“You leave at first light or I’ll go over the side of that mountain—”
“Don’t threaten me.”
“It’s only a threat if you don’t intend to do it.”
Kate released his hand. “Then I’ll be gone tomorrow.” She stood and walked out.
Kate returned with two bowls of thick porridge. “I thought you might be hungry.”
David simply nodded and began eating, quickly at first, only slowing after he’d eaten a few bites.
“I’ve been reading to you.” She held up the journal. “Do you mind?”
“Reading what?”
“A journal. The old guy… downstairs… he gave it to me.”
“Oh, him. Qian.” David took two more bites rapid-fire. “What’s it about?”
Kate sat down on the bed and spread her legs next to his as she had when he was unconscious. “Mining.”
David looked up from the bowl. “Mining?”
“Or, war maybe, no, actually, I’m not really sure. It’s set in Gibraltar—”
“Gibraltar?”
“Yes. Is that important?”
“Maybe. The code,” David searched his pockets like he was looking for his keys or wallet. “Actually, Josh had it…”
“Who’s Josh? Had what?”
“He’s, I used to work with him. We got a code from the source — the same person who told us about the China facility — I want to talk about that, by the way. Anyway, it was a picture of an iceberg with a sub buried in the middle of it. On the back, it had a code. The code pointed to obituaries in The New York Times in 1947. There were three of them.” David looked down, trying to remember. “The first was a reference to Gibraltar and the British finding bones near a site.”
“The site could be the mine. The Immari are trying to hire an American miner, a former soldier, to excavate a structure several miles under the Bay of Gibraltar. They think it’s the Lost City of Atlantis.”
“Interesting,” David said, deep in thought.
Before he could say anything else, Kate cracked the journal open and began reading.
August 9th, 1917
It’s late when I arrive home, and Helena is at the small kitchen table. Her elbows are on the table and she holds her face with both hands, like it will plummet to the ground if she releases her grip. There are no tears but her eyes are red, as if she’s been crying and can’t any more. She looks like the women I used to see leaving the hospital, followed by two men carrying a stretcher covered by a white sheet.
Helena has three brothers, two in the service, one too young to join, or maybe he’s just signed up. That’s my first thought: I wonder how many brothers she has now?
She jumps up at the sound of the door and stares at me, wild-eyed.
“What’s happened?” I say.
She embraces me. “I thought you’d done it, taken that job or gone off and left. Or, I don’t know.”
I hug her back, and she buries her face in my chest. When the crying subsides, she peers up at me, her big brown eyes asking a question I can’t begin to decipher. I kiss her on the mouth. It’s a hungry, reckless kiss, like an animal biting into something he’s hunted all day, something he needs to sustain himself, something he can’t live without. She feels so delicate in my arms, so small. I reach for her blouse, fingering one of the buttons, but she clasps my hand and takes a step back.
“Patrick, I can’t. I’m still… traditional, in many ways.”
“I can wait.”
“It’s not that. It’s, well, I’d like you to meet my father. My whole family.”
“I’d like that very much, to meet him, all of them.”
“Good. I’m off at the hospital for the next week. I’ll ring him in the morning. If it suits them, we can leave on the afternoon train.”
“Let’s… make it the day after. I need, I need to get something.”