“And don’t give me your Dalai Lama, Pope, Hawking speech again, because Quinn and company are here because of you. They helped me get you out. We can’t leave them. We have to get a message to them as soon as possible.”
“I will give you my Dalai Lama, Pope, and Hawking speech as many times as I see fit.” Greg pointed his scowl at me, his tone exacting. However, his features softened as his gaze moved over my face. “But I agree. We need to get a message to them. And we’ll be able to do that from the safe house, we’re almost there.”
***
Greg really did know exactly where we were, much to my astonishment.
His safe house was in the middle of the jungle. At least that’s how it felt to me. We had to drive the Jeep off the road, into the forest, and walk about a quarter of a mile to reach it.
The exterior appeared to be exposed cinderblock and the interior wasn’t much better. A single room measuring about eight by eight, a cot, a square rug, and that was about it. I’d finished assessing the space when he moved the carpet out of the way to reveal a door in the floor.
“During the Nigerian Civil War these bunkers weren’t uncommon. But discovering one out here and still intact was a real find.”
Greg opened the wooden door, revealing what looked like a combination safe. He entered the combination, turned the metal wheel, and lifted the hatch.
“I just finished welding this hatch three weeks ago.” He stood back to admire his work for a moment before grabbing the bag of supplies I was carrying—supplies he’d stolen from the corrupt mainline sentinel—and motioned for me to climb down the ladder into the bunker.
“How did you find it?” I asked as I lowered myself into the ground.
“Luck, actually. I’d already found a place in Lagos, a safe house in a mostly Oyinbo neighborhood so I wouldn’t be conspicuous. I did that the second weekend in January as soon as I had free time. The next weekend I spent my day off hiking. I got lost—”
“What? You? Lost?” I teased lightly, feeling more awake after my cry-fest. I reached the end of the ladder and stepped to the side so Greg could finish descending.
“I know. I can hardly fathom it myself. Look to the left side of the ladder, there’s a switch for the lights.”
“There are lights?” I asked and felt for the switch, flipping it. Compact fluorescent bulbs illuminated the space, which was at least twenty by twenty feet. Newly constructed shelves lined the walls laden with canned goods, non-perishables, computer equipment, and miscellaneous supplies. A large soaking tub took up an entire corner, and next to it was a toilet and basin sink. A single cot claimed the other corner and a table with one chair was pushed against the wall.
“The blue tub was already here. But I had to replace the other fixtures, clean the whole thing out. The power runs off a solar generator with backup batteries I installed in mid-February. They’re rechargeable, like a car battery. The solar cells are a mile away in a suitable clearing, so I had to bury the lines and the generator.”
Greg walked around me as he spoke, moving to what looked like a breaker box next to the shelves and flipped two switches.
“I just turned on the water heater and satellite hookup. We’ll have hot water in half an hour, and Internet in ten minutes.”
“Where does the water come from?”
“There’s a well, behind the shed up top.”
I stared at him with openmouthed wonder. “You did all this?”
He nodded, glancing around the space. “Well, I didn’t build it. But I fixed it. I gave up the other house three weeks ago, as soon as this place was finished.”
It wasn’t fancy. Not at all. It smelled like new paint and Lysol. Except for the big, powder-blue porcelain soaking tub, it looked like a miniature military barracks. It was efficient and tidy. Everything had a purpose and I perceived nothing that could be labeled as extraneous.
But then my attention snagged on a cluster of photographs stuck to the wall next to the bed. As though pulled, I walked over to it, leaning down so the frame would be eye level.
I was smiling before I knew it. Grace and Jack’s faces filled my vision. The picture had been taken over Halloween and I’d emailed it to Greg because he was on assignment in Russia at the time.
Unwelcome and unbidden thoughts bubbled to the surface of my mind: Had he really been on assignment in Russia? What else has he been lying about?
I batted them away, not wanting everything to be tainted by his recent deceit, not until I gave him a chance to explain. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. I wanted to trust him. I wanted his reasons to be justified.
Yet, despite my desire to be fair, I was left with a bitter taste in my mouth.