“And I’ll talk to Niklas soon.”
I nod with a little smile of support and he leaves.
20
Izabel
The cell floor has only ten cells left which Victor wanted to keep for reasons just like this one—detaining traitors and other kinds of prisoners. The cells are named A through J. I head for cell C with a lot of mixed emotions and a heavy heart. I don’t want to think about what Dorian will go through with Fredrik later, but as I pass down the dingy hallway and cells A and B that are wide open and empty, it’s all I can think about. I don’t want to think that Dorian is a traitor, either—maybe the things he told Victor are true. Maybe he’s not our enemy and never intended to be. But he lied. And he worked with us under false pretenses. And he gave information about us to the government and that alone is enough for Victor to kill him.
I step up to the heavy steel door and push up on my toes to see inside through the small box Plexiglas window.
Dorian is laying against a cot on a metal bed jutting from the wall. Bloody bandages are wrapped about both shoulders. All he’s wearing are his dark-colored jeans and his Rolex. His boots have been kicked off onto the floor, laying sloppily with the long strings strewn against the tile.
Reaching up my hand, I tap on the window with the tip of my finger.
Dorian raises his blond head and after a second of looking at the blurred face in the window and trying to distinguish it he mouths ‘Izabel?’ and with difficulty forces his wounded body from the cot to sit upright. His face twists with pain and he stops, takes a deep breath and pushes himself to his feet and walks to the door.
I crouch down in front of it and slide away the metal covering over the food slot that’s long and wide enough to pass a tray through.
“How are you doing?” I ask.
“Feel like shit,” he says and sits down on the floor on his bottom, wincing with every abrupt movement. All I can see now are his bright blue eyes and his forehead through the opening.
“Sorry,” I say. “Hey, I wanted to come here and tell you that Tessa is fine.”
His eyes light up a bit and relief washes over him through all the pain and discomfort.
“In fact,” I go on, “she was fine the whole time. Nora didn’t hurt her at all.”
“Where is she now?”
“James took her back home.”
Dorian nods.
“Thank you, Izabel. For letting me know.”
I nod back.
After a few long seconds that feel more like minutes, I break the silence with the inevitable.
“Did you tell Victor the truth? You know he’ll find out, right?”
“Yeah, I know,” he says. “But I did tell him the truth. There’s more to tell him, like what kind of information I passed along to my superiors, but I wasn’t holding any of that from him. I guess Victor just wasn’t ready to hear it.”
“Why did you crack at all?” I ask. “I mean…well, I thought guys like you were trained not to break, not even to save the life of someone you love. Set aside lying to us about who you are; the fact that you broke in itself is a serious flaw in your character, Dorian. You gave up your identity not only to us, but to an innocent civilian. That tells us you’d be willing to give us up under the right circumstances.”
Dorian shakes his head.
“I know it looks that way,” he says, “but like I told Victor, I was eventually going to tell him who I was, regardless—I was given authorization. I just had to do it sooner than expected.”
“And what if,” I say, “you were never given that authorization? Would you have admitted it?”
He sighs.
“If I said no, would you believe me?” It wasn’t really a question.
“What about Tessa?” I point out. “It seemed easy for you to tell her.”
“Yeah, well that’s a different kind of weakness,” he admits. “Still an inexcusable one, but not unforgivable like being a traitor. Look, I know I’m probably going to die in here; it’s a hazard in this line of work. I accept it and I’m not afraid of it, but I don’t want to die a traitor.”
After a brief moment of pause I say, “I wish I could say I don’t think you’re a traitor, but what you did…I don’t know, it’s hard for me to think of you as anything else…but as a person and a friend, I think you’re genuine.”
“Thanks.”
He pauses and asks, “Is she dead?”
“I’m going to kill her soon.”
“Yeah, well put a bullet in that bitch’s shoulders before you kill her,” he snaps. “Make it all dramatic n’ shit—tell her ‘this is for Dorian!’” He laughs at his own joke but winces and a hissing noise pushes through his lips as he sucks in a breath sharply in response to more pain.
I smile and watch his eyes fall away from the door slot as he lowers his head.
“Is your mom gonna be all right?” he asks.