Lost Past (10 page)

             
He then went to the back of Wilson’s head and said something that caused the four kidnappers to chuckle. Wilson spoke through closed teeth to ask, “What did he say?”

             
“At least he doesn’t have to worry about the hair,” John translated.

             
Reidar
then pulled out a device roughly the size and shape of a pistol with a large caliber barrel. He pulled something out of a drawer and carefully attached it to the end of the device. He placed it against the base of Wilson’s skull as if performing an execution. He held it there for about five seconds and then pulled the trigger. Linda started to jerk forw
ard, but John’s calm whisper “Don’t worry
” stopped her. There was a click and a disk was attached to Wilson’s skull. It was a little less than a centimeter in diameter and pale against Wilson’s dark skin.  If it had been put on any of their captors’ heads, it would have blended in.

             
Linda’s turn was next. In spite of Wilson’s calm acceptance and John’s reassurance, she was frightened, but saw no point in fighting. Before she sat down,
Brown Hair
pulled off her t-shirt, leaving it hanging behind her on her bound wrists. She was glad she was wearing an opaque bra.
Reidar
adjusted the head restraint to a comfortable height. The shoulder hurt, but the head didn’t. She saw that Wilson looked at a blank wall, rather than staring at her.

             
All the while, Brown Hair and the old man were arguing. It meant nothing at first, but suddenly, it was clear. Brown Hair said, “. . . all the people who know where they sent the duplica
tes of the information Mason carried
. Mason lied. He wasn’t the only one who heard Zhexp divulge what the
Plict
don’t want leaked.”

             
“You were excessive, Hernandez,” said the old man. Brown Hair, whose name was apparently Hernandez, was distracted by watching Cara
, whose turn it was
.

             
I’m stripped to my bra and Wilson looks away, Linda thought. Cara has every man staring at her. Her bra was lacy and nearly transparent, not needing much support for her tiny breasts. Linda felt guilty about such petty thoughts, glad no one could read her mind. Cara looked like she was miserable, making Linda feel sorry for her, genuinely regretting her pettiness, for Cara’s sake, not just for her own self-image. 

             
“Hernandez?” Wilson said to the brown-haired man while Cara was receiving the shoulder treatment. Linda assumed the questioning tone was Wilson’s uncertainty of the name. “Why did you kill Mary Chen?”

             
Linda realized he was talking in
Vigintees
and that she understood it. She recognized she started understanding it when the disk was put on her head.

             
“Mary Chen is dead?” the old man asked, clearly not happy with the news.

             
“She attacked us,” Hernandez replied.

             
“Mary couldn’t have weighed ninety pounds. She was no threat to anyone,” Linda replied angrily, speaking
Vigintees
. If Mary died the day before, would she feel as much grief?

             
“Why do you care if she’s dead, but not all the passengers on the plane?” Wilson
asked the old man.

             
There was no response from the
Vigintees
, but Linda replied, guessing wildly, “Because she’s Dad’s wife.” After she said it, she realized it made sense. Mary was unimportant by herself. She was a tenured professor at a prestigious college, with a dozen or more papers in peer-review journals, while people told Linda repeatedly that her father was the brightest physicist in the world.

             
“Linda Saunders?” the old man asked. When she nodded, he ordered Hernandez, “Free her.” Hernandez reluctantly released her bonds. “We didn’t mean to do you harm. I am Baldur, by the way. I am sorry if you’ve been frightened. And Mary Chen’s death was not intended. My condolences for the loss of your stepmother.”

             
Linda hastily pulled her shirt over her head. “Mary was no threat. I don’t think any of us are,” she said as she rubbed her wrists, looking pointedly at Hernandez. He took her look as a challenge and freed John’s and Wilson’s hands, but left Cara stuck in the chair with her hands still bound.

             
“Talking to the animals?” A woman stood in the doorway. She looked like every other woman they had seen on this planet, but somehow, she was more beautiful. The slight genetic variations that made up the limited gene pool made attractive features, but hers were radiant. Her complexion was flawless, and she wore a bright blue scarf that emphasized the blue in her eyes, but otherwise was dressed in the universal beige pants and shirt.

             
“This is
Katrine
,” said Baldur. “John Graham’s wife.”

             
“Ex wife,”
Katrine
said.

             
“Do you remember her?” Wilson asked John.

             
John shook his head, showing no emotion.

             
“How convenient. Forty years ago, I was the love of your life. Ten years later you divorce me, and now you don’t even remember.”

             
“Is that Earth years or wherever-we-are years?” Linda asked.

             
Katrine
gave her a spiteful look and said a few words that Linda translated as profanity.

             
Baldur seemed to wince at the profanity, but ignored it as he explained, “There are about twelve
Vigintees
years for every thirteen Earth years.” Roughly even, Linda thought.

             
Katrine
turned on Baldur angrily. Linda decided that she did everything angrily. “You talk to the animals.”

             
“And we talk back,” said Linda.

             
“Only because we put it into your brains. You are still animals.”

             
“My father spoke
Vigintees
. Was he an animal?”

             
Before
Katrine
could respond, Hernandez belatedly looked at Wilson’s empty holster. “Where’s your gun?”

             
“On a chair in Schwartz’ office. I started to draw, but you had the drop on me, so I left it there,” Wilson lied.

             
“I don’t remember hearing it fall,” Hernandez said.

             
“Six inches to a padded chair?” Linda was glad he didn’t mention Eric’s presence.

             
Hernandez aggressively searched Wilson who stood as still as possible, his hands held negligently in the air. The unaccustomed weight of the gun in Linda’s purse seemed to shout the presence of the weapon, but she said nothing.

             
When the gun wasn’t found, Hernandez said, “It’s interesting to know there is an FBI
agent who’s a coward.” Wilson managed to look bored. Linda realized he wasn’t going to let insults visibly affect him.

             
Meanwhile,
Katrine
walked over to Cara, who was still immobilized. She put a finger on her bra and pulled the material slightly. She leaned over and looked at Cara. Her mouth curled in contempt. As she started to say something, Cara coughed in her face.

             
Katrine
jumped back and wiped off her face with her hand, hissing, “Animals! Zhexp, come with me.” John hesitated, but she grabbed his arm and he went with her, after glancing a mute apology to Cara and Linda.

             
After Cara was processed, Hernandez freed her hands. Linda pulled a tissue out of her purse for Cara, carefully searching with her hand while the purse was almost closed so not to show the gun, while succinctly bringing her up to date on the conversation she missed since she
didn’t understand
Vigintees
while it took place
.
             

             
Baldur first took the three of them to a kiosk in a hallway, which had clothing. “You have shoes,” he said, looking at their feet. He scanned them with something and a
screen printed
some numbers. Linda read them in base six and realized the translation disk translated the numbers into base ten. Arithmetic would be weird because the translation might interfere with her understanding.

             
Baldur picked some clothing from open bins, giving two sets to each of them. As an afterthought, he mouthed some words and more numbers flashed. He picked up another two sets of clothes, which he handed to Wilson. “For Zhexp,” he said. When Wilson looked puzzled, Baldur explained, “That’s John Graham to you.”

             
The clothes were beige, similar to all the other clothes Linda saw. They had the softness of frequently washed cotton, but were made of a sturdy knit fabric. Some pieces were faded, and
appeared to be
older. Linda noticed the scarves on a few of the people they passed. The scarves were too varied to indicate rank or occupation.

             
Baldur then led Cara, Wilson, and Linda to a tiny, windowless apartment. A narrow passageway led through two couches, with three indentations for seating on each side, slightly offset, which would allow a bit more legroom. Behind the chair room was a bedroom containing three narrow, stacked beds on one wall, containing storage space below each bed. The space between the beds was too small for someone to sit up in bed. There were six empty cabinets opposite the triple bunk. There was a tiny bathroom with three cups hanging from the wall near the sink. The couches had an airplane-like tray that swung in from above. Baldur showed them how to use the plumbing. There was also an exercise machine in a claustrophobically small room.

             
After he left, Cara said, “I’m not feeling very well. Do you mind if I sleep?” After assuring them that the kick had probably not caused any internal injuries, she retired to the lowest cot.

             
Wilson used the bathroom to change out of his suit and into the pants Baldur gave him. They were too short, showing several inches of calf. He didn’t put on the shirt, allowing Linda to observe his muscular frame. He paid no attention to her while he worked out in the exercise room, although she watched him for several minutes. Linda saw his facial features gradually relax. She realized he was working out his anger, which he never displayed. She never watched sports, but found herself enjoying the display of strength and endurance. He looked up at her once after several minutes and she turned away in embarrassment. 

             
Although Cara didn’t bother changing, Linda decided to change out of her jeans. She
rinsed her underwear, hoping the bra would dry by morning, whenever morning was here, because her new clothing didn’t include a bra. When she was done, Cara was asleep. Wilson was still exercising.

             
Linda lay in bed for some time before she slept, wondering about John. Where was he now, and what was he doing? She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised that he was once married, considering his age. But she was surprised, especially since he married someone as obnoxious as
Katrine
. Linda wondered if she ever really knew
him
.

CHAPTER 8 

             
Katrine
took John to an apartment that made his Earth apartment look large. She gave him a chance to look it over, small as it was. One wall had two shelves with the lower one being a desk and the upper one storage. There appeared to be no bed, until he realized the desk was part of a Murphy bed where the shelves would swing out to become supports for the bed. Nothing stood out from the wall, because the next apartment would have a similar, mirror image arrangement. There was a table and a second chair that John judged would need to be moved to use the bed. A recliner with a small side table took most of the remaining space.

             
A storage unit was built along one entire wall, decorated with art, drawn with little talent and less taste. There was a prominent picture of
Katrine
painted in the center. Without being told, he realized the two doors at the other end of the room led to a bathroom and a closet-sized exercise room.

             
The design of the room was efficient, but the decorations made John realize he underrated motel rooms and even poster-decorated dorm rooms. She expected a compliment, and he surprised himself by saying and meaning it, “It’s spacious for one person. You’ve done well.”

             
One portion of the storage shelves contained a refrigerator the size of a single shelf in a normal refrigerator. She served him a couple of strawberries as if they were caviar and cold water as if it were wine. John pulled the desk chair over to the table.