The Line (17 page)

“Do you think Peter will take the same kind of risk?” Rachel was almost afraid to ask the question, but she had been worrying all day about it. She had realized halfway through the morning that if her mother’s old friend had changed, he could easily turn her over to the authorities. What if her mother never returned from Bensen?

“I don’t know, Rachel.” Ms. Moore considered the question. “Your mother trusted him once. All we can hope is that he is still worthy of that trust.” She reached over and touched Rachel’s hand. “She’ll be back soon. Try not to worry.”

H
E’S GOING TO do it.” Vivian shut the front door of the main house and shrugged off her overcoat.

Rachel hugged her mom. “I’m so glad you’re back safe. I was so worried!”

“Oh, honey.” Vivian held Rachel tight. “I’m fine. Everything’s going to be okay.” She released Rachel but gathered her up again right away for another hug and a kiss on the forehead. “Let’s go and tell Ms. Moore.”

“She’s in the parlor sitting down. Her leg is bothering her a little.” Rachel followed her mom to the next room. Ms. Moore was sitting sideways, her leg up on the sofa. She smiled as they entered the room.

“Elizabeth, have you taken anything for the pain?” Vivian looked alarmed to see Ms. Moore in such an unladylike position.

“I already offered to get her something, but she refused,” said Rachel.

“Oh, it’s nothing, just aching a bit. Tell us what happened.”

“He was still in the same house. It felt strange going up those steps after so many years.” Vivian settled herself next to Ms. Moore on the sofa, careful to avoid bumping her outstretched leg.

“Did he have a key?” asked Rachel.

“He said he can get one. He said he’ll bring it here tomorrow night.”

“Here!” Ms. Moore frowned.

“I know,” said Vivian. “I was worried about that too, but he insisted that the risk of coming to his house twice was too much. He
is
still a collaborator, and they might be watching. One strange visitor might not be noticed, but he was worried that two visits might attract attention. He said he would watch to be certain nobody was following him.”

“Well, I guess there really isn’t a choice, is there?” Ms. Moore still didn’t look happy.

“I really didn’t think I could argue too much. It seemed like he was probably right.”

“What was he like?” Ms. Moore eased her leg off the sofa, rubbing it.

“Older,” Vivian replied. “So much older than I remembered. He looked so tired. Jolie’s Identification must be taking its toll.”

“I’m certain it must be,” said Ms. Moore. “But what I meant was, did he seem suspicious in any way? Did anything make you feel uncomfortable?”

“What do you mean?” Rachel was so happy to hear the news about the key that she hadn’t thought past the idea that they might actually be able to help Pathik.

“Rachel, we don’t really know what we’re dealing with here. Peter was a friend, but your mother hasn’t seen him in years. We need to be cautious. You would be surprised at what people you thought were your friends might be capable of doing.”

Vivian looked uncertain. “I don’t know. I didn’t get any sense that he was duplicitous. He was definitely surprised to see me, but once he got over the shock of it, he seemed fine. Really, he treated me better than I deserved to be treated.”

Rachel turned to her mother in surprise. “Why would he treat you badly?”

“Because
I
treated
him
badly.” Vivian looked at her hands. “Right after your father . . . right after we lost your father, Rachel, Peter came to our house in Ganivar. He came to express his sorrow and to see if there was anything he could do for us. He took a considerable risk to do that. Remember, he was a collaborator too, and the house could have been under surveillance.”

“What did you do to him?” Rachel couldn’t imagine her mom doing anything
mean
to someone.

“I wouldn’t let him in the house. I stood there on the doorstep, staring at him like he was some bothersome salesman. When he was done talking, I told him he needed to leave. I told him to go and not come back, ever.” Vivian looked up at Rachel. “Oh, Rachel, you should have seen his face. It closed up just like a fist. But I could see in his eyes he was hurt. He and Daniel . . . he and your dad were great friends.”

Rachel went to her mom and knelt beside her. She gave her a hug. She didn’t say anything; she really didn’t know what to say. She kept thinking about what Ms. Moore had said a few minutes ago.
You would be surprised at what people you thought were your friends might be capable of doing.

 

 

RACHEL CLOSED THE door to the bedroom softly. Vivian had been sleeping for almost twelve hours. The day before, after telling Rachel and Ms. Moore about her meeting with Peter, she had crawled into bed. This morning she had not awakened to go to the main house for work. When Rachel went to check with Ms. Moore that everything was all right, she was told to let Vivian rest as long as she needed. After stopping at the greenhouse to mist her crosses, she tried to fill the hours by tidying the already tidy guesthouse. Ms. Moore had forbidden her to go anywhere near the Line. “All in good time, Rachel,” she said. “We need to be ready.”

Rachel was worried about Pathik, worried about whether he would come, whether he had even heard Ms. Moore’s instructions to return to their meeting place. She was worried about her mother, who seemed so exhausted after going to ask Peter Hill for help. She was proud of her too. She’d had time, while she was waiting for Vivian to return, to think about how hard it must have been for her mother to take the risk.

Rachel peeked in on her once more, then went back to the front room. As she started to sit down, the intercom unit on the wall by the front door beeped. At first, Rachel wasn’t sure what she was hearing. The intercom connected to the main house, and it had never been used as far as Rachel could remember. She hurried over to the wall unit. It was a flat panel with two buttons on the top and a round, pin-holed grille below them.

“Hello?” She spoke hesitantly into the grille. The unit beeped again.

“Hello?” A tinny voice came out of the grille. “Vivian? Rachel? If you’re there, turn on the speaker.”

Rachel pushed the speaker button. “Hello?” she said again, louder this time.

“Rachel?” It was Ms. Moore’s voice, sounding a thousand miles away. “Rachel, is your mother awake?”

Rachel was still a bit shocked at the fact that the intercom even worked. “No, Ms. Moore. She’s sleeping.”

“Wake her,” came the reply. “She has a vocall at the main number here. Peter Hill. He said he didn’t know how to reach her, so he got the number for The Property. He’s waiting. Have her come to the house. And speak up—I can barely hear you.”

Rachel leaned down so that her lips were right next to the grille. “Okay!” she shouted, pronouncing each syllable carefully. “I will go and get her now!”

The intercom beeped once more, then was silent. Rachel went to wake her mother.

 

 

VIVIAN SAT DOWN in front of the streamer in the parlor to take Peter’s call. She looked tired, her hair still mussed after the quick brushing she had given it before hurrying with Rachel to the main house. Rachel hovered near her, worried.

“It’s on speaker now, but you can use the earpiece if you prefer.” Ms. Moore pointed to a small case on the desk that held accessories for the streamer.

“No. We should all hear what he has to say.” Vivian started to push the keypad button to engage the call but hesitated. “Let’s not let him know he has listeners,” she said. Rachel and Ms. Moore both nodded.

Vivian hit the key to take the call. “Peter?” she said.

“Vivian?” Peter’s voice was clear, as though he were sitting in the room with them. “I can’t see you.”

“The streamer here is an older model, Peter. No video.” Vivian waited a moment. “Is something wrong?”

“No, everything is still as planned, Viv. I’ve got what you need, and I’ll be there tonight. I just wanted to check on something.” There was a pause. “Are you alone?”

Vivian looked at Ms. Moore. “Yes, I’m alone. What is it, Peter?”

“We didn’t have much time yesterday, Viv. I wanted to ask you about . . . well, about certain items. Things Daniel had, Viv. Things he was keeping safe.”

Vivian said nothing. Rachel wrinkled her brow and tilted her head at her mother, but managed to keep quiet. Ms. Moore remained impassive, her expression carefully neutral.

“Viv?” Peter’s voice broke the silence. “You there?”

“Yes, Peter,” said Vivian. “I’m here.” She bit her lip. “I think I know what you mean, Peter.” She ignored Rachel’s pantomimed questions and avoided looking at Ms. Moore altogether. “Is there a reason you’re asking, Peter? Do you need those items?”

“No, oh, no, Viv. I just wondered if after Daniel, well . . . if you still had them. It would be good to know they were still safe, just in case they
were
ever needed.” Peter lowered his voice so that he was almost whispering. “Do you still have them, Viv?”

Vivian stared at the display on the streamer. “No Video” scrolled across the screen. She had hunched lower and lower in her chair during the conversation, but now she sat up straight. “I do have them, Peter,” she said. “Or at least I can get them.”

There was a muffled sound from the speaker—an intake of breath, or something that sounded like that—and then Peter’s voice again. “That’s great, Viv. I figured you would have kept them, knowing how careful you and Daniel were. That’s just great.” Peter sounded extremely upbeat.

Vivian waited what seemed like a long time before she spoke. “Peter,” she finally said, in close to a whisper, “are you sure there’s nothing wrong?”

Peter answered quickly. “Nothing, Viv. Although I was thinking it might be wise to relocate them, for safety. If there ever was need, it might be better to be able to get to them quickly. I could take care of that tonight if you like.”

Vivian frowned. “We were given very clear instructions though, about not keeping everything in one place. For safety. If you’re bringing your item here, it would be better that what I have is
not
here. Isn’t that right, Peter?” She waited.

“Yes, of course. As long as you can get them quickly, Viv. In case. Can you do that?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I guess if everything is still as we discussed, then I’ll see you tonight?”

“Tonight, Peter, as we discussed.” Vivian forced herself to smile so that Peter could hear it in her voice. “I’m so looking forward to seeing you. I’ll talk to you then.” She tapped a key to break the connection.

“Mom . . .” Rachel was silenced by the sight of her mother’s face. Vivian was pale, all the color drained from her cheeks. She looked from Rachel to Ms. Moore. “We have a problem,” she said. Then she began to shake.

 

RACHEL WATCHED VIVIAN closely. They had helped her from the desk to the sofa, and Ms. Moore had gone to a cabinet and brought out a decanter filled with some sort of amber liquid. She poured a glass for Vivian and put it in her hand. Vivian couldn’t stop shaking for several minutes.

“Peter’s planning something.” Vivian took a deep breath to try to calm herself. “I know it. He wouldn’t have made that call for any other reason. His wife . . . I think he must be planning something in order to help Jolie.”

“Is she still in custody, this Jolie?” Ms. Moore’s voice was taut, and she looked worried.

“As far as I know. If Jolie is still in custody, Peter will do whatever he has to in order to get her back.” Vivian turned to Rachel. “I have something he can use as a bargaining tool, something the government would like to get their hands on. That’s what he was asking about. He may be thinking of a trade—what I have for Jolie and his daughter. I’m afraid he won’t bring the keycard when he comes. He’ll bring Enforcement Officers.” Vivian tried to say more, but her voice broke. She covered her face with her hands and began to weep. Rachel knelt next to her mother, trying to comfort her.

“What is it you have?” Ms. Moore sounded annoyed.

Then the front door chimes sounded.

A
FTER MAKING CERTAIN Vivian and Rachel understood they must remain absolutely silent, Elizabeth handed Vivian the stunner and closed the parlor door. She stood in the entryway staring at the front door. She was not expecting any visitors. Dr. Beller had already brought the medical supplies she had requested, leaving with his payment and a puzzled look, hours ago. She’d packed everything into the duffel bag with the other supplies and had Rachel hide it in the greenhouse in preparation for that evening. She listened, but the chimes didn’t sound again. Squaring her shoulders resolutely, she walked to the door and squinted through the peephole.

It was Jonathan. Standing on the porch, holding his hat in his hands. Elizabeth thought a moment, then opened the door as far as the safety chain allowed. “Jonathan,” she said through the narrow opening. “I take it you didn’t go to Ganivar after all.”

Jonathan looked uncomfortable. “I need to talk to you,” he said.

“I’m sure whatever it is can wait until tomorrow, can’t it, Jonathan? I was just getting ready for a bath.”

“I don’t think it can wait, Ms. Moore.”

She eyed him warily, making no move to open the door.

Jonathan waited, turning his hat round and round by its brim. “Elizabeth,” he finally said, so softly she almost didn’t hear it. She shook her head at him, but at the same time she unhooked the safety latch and motioned him inside the entryway.

“Jonathan, whatever it is, this really isn’t a good time.”

“I’ll try to make this short.” Jonathan still spoke softly. He seemed to be having trouble forming his words. “I . . . I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. About right and wrong. I came to give you something.” She saw how tired he looked, lines etched into lines on his old face, a sadness she hadn’t noticed yesterday dragging at the corners of his mouth. He fumbled to retrieve something from his coat pocket. “Here,” he said simply, holding out a small paper packet, tied with some odd bit of string.