32
On the evening of the third day Tinker had just finished installing security measures on Rosie's operating system. He promised this would keep her safe from intrusion as long as she didn't advertise who she was or what she could do. Blake had taken up a position on the opposite side of Tinker's living and work room and was reading collection of Lu Xun’s short stories that he had found collecting dust on a bookshelf. The air in the room was stifling, filled with the smell of cigarette smoke and ordered-in food. Rosie had taken up her now familiar meditative pose on the couch, eyes shut.
Tinker swiveling in his chair to face Rosie and Blake. He cleared his throat loudly and they both looked up at him, and he flourished his right hand, a jester trying to make light of a grave new royal decree.
''The time has come, dear friends, when services rendered are now equal to liabilities paid. In other words, the money's run out, and I cherish the time we've spent together, but it's time for you to go.''
He walked over to his console and picked up a brown envelope that Blake had failed to notice before. He threw the thing and it landed with a bounce on the sofa beside Rosie.
''My employer, Mr. Mysterious, you probably know him better than I do, would like you to have that. It's enough cash for you to eat and live for about a month. He asks me to pass along the message: ‘take it and follow his directions to the next place of hiding.’’’
Tinker's manner was infinitely more business-like than it had been in the past five days, but only for this short speech. It was as if he was trying urgently to be colder than was his nature. He seemed to crumble under the weight of his own seriousness and turned desperately to find his cigarettes and lit up. He exhaled loudly and pushed his long hair back out of his face.
''The truth is . . . I feel quite guilty kicking you out,'' he said, ''but I'm too nervous to let you stay. You two seem like perfectly nice, normal people, but you're in some shit that goes way beyond me. Way, way outta my league. Leagues beyond my league.''
He shook his head.
Blake started to say something but Tinker interrupted him.
''You leave tomorrow morning, early. Sorry to do it, really. There doesn't seem to be a way around it.''
Both Rosie and Blake expressed their gratitude for his help.
''Thank your friend's money. I'm no saint. No devil, no saint.'' He puffed heavily at his cigarette, tossed the butt roughly and lit another.
''There's something you both need to think about, a caution I'll give away for nothing more than my own conscience. Rosie, whoever did this to you has been with you since you were a child. Every moment studying how to read you. I think you should consider that you are not the only one like this.''
He smiled wryly.
''As fond as I am of calling you the Messiah or Electric Lady, people with such resources don't think on a small scale. One child? No, a thousand—or more. I think that's much more likely. Hell,'' he threw up his hands, ''maybe you already knew that.''
''Anyway,'' he continued, ''simple words of advice: lay low, stay away from surveillance, and be very suspicious, be downright paranoid if you can. And for god sake take advantage of what you can do, but not brashly. I've built you some defenses, but even the strongest firewall can be breached with the adequate skill.''
His smoke hung in the air, depressing the room even more. Blake was silent. Rosie was staring into space, clearly mulling over his words.
''I'll my do best,'' she said finally, her jaw set.
The night evaporated into the early morning when each woke to Tinker's prodding smoky finger. They had prepared their things the night before. Not much to prepare really, only washing their clothes in the machine and opening the envelope and counting the cash within. Leaving is always easier when you're not leaving anything behind, thought Blake.
After saying goodbye to Tinker, they left. Rosie's parting goodbye was sincerely grateful, if not exactly friendly but Blake found it hard to be anything other than overjoyed at their departure.
They walked into the club area, through the half-cleaned pandemonium left over from the night before, up to the thick metal door where a stocky Asian man opened it for them. Does this club have any regular employees? Blake found himself wondering. He was yet to see the same worker twice. As they walked out, the man slammed the door shut loudly and sent sharp reverberations through the concrete walls.
They were on their own again.
Even as the sound faded down the corridor the green light returned to Blake's eyes. He'd almost forgotten about the contacts. They were so comfortable he had left them in all this time. He wondered if Odin had enjoyed watching his lone bender, party of one, mess.
He looked over. Rosie was already looking at him. It wasn't her usual questioning gaze. Her eyes were full of will this time. Could she see what he was seeing? He didn't ask. He was too unsure of himself now to ask. It felt as if all this time in confinement had shriveled his brain. They had gone into hiding, but everything was still changing. Days ago he had met this woman, gotten to know her, started to – perhaps – appreciate her, and then she had disappeared again, to be replaced by this new Rosie; full of purpose and power, arbiter of the brave new world, how did she feel about him now? He could barely find words, as if in her development they had lost a common language. He thought all this before they had moved a step from the door.
The green light flashed away in front of his eyes.
Rosie could see his hesitation, he knew it. He'd stared too long without saying a word.
She extended her hand to him with a small fragile smile; I don't know how this will end either, it said. He took her hand, it was the first time they'd touched since he had led her blind and deaf through the tunnels, when he'd felt as if she was his soul charge and her only protector.
Things are different now,'' she said quietly. “But I haven't forgotten what you did for me. I'll never forget.” She seemed to be organically reading his thoughts.
She started walking down the tunnel and this time he followed, still attached to her hand, and finally walked abreast of her, head forward, following the green lights.
After only a few minutes they came up the basement stairs of an empty building. Perhaps a service or employee entrance to Hades, the place's wooden floor was dusty from disuse except for a trail of footprints leading from the door to the stairs. Finally, they went to the front door and were on the streets again and both unconsciously took a breath of fresh air. Blake craned his head up; the Villas towered around them in several directions. The morning's sparse clouds tickled at their sides and upper reaches, mingling mile high in the air. Blake warned Rosie that she might want to be careful of security cameras, but he knew by the way she nodded that she was already thinking of their safety.
They had walked several blocks when the left side of Blake's vision went dark, then suddenly changed perspective.
He slowed his walk, a sickening feeling came over his stomach. Rosie looked at him inquisitively as he stumbled.
His view was of green grass, trees and the blue morning sky.
It was beautiful.
And he knew without a shadow of a doubt it meant things were dreadfully wrong.