Chapter 45

Richard

"James, what on earth are you doing?" His office looks like an explosion in a widgets factory.

He glances up from where he is clipping some gizmo into the innards of a laptop. "Making a few changes to this machine so it does what I want it to."

"If you need a new laptop why not just buy one that does what you want? I'm sure the company finances would stand it."

He peers in, pushes at something and there's a sharp click. Then he looks up over the top of his glasses. "This isn't for me. It's for Kirstie"

?

"What's my Technical Director doing spending his time on equipment maintenance for the concierge?"

"The one she was using was inherited from her predecessor and was more suited to playing Pac-Man than running surveillance."

"Alright, but why are you doing the work?"

He clips a panel into a slot in the base, talking as he checks what he's doing against something on a second screen. "Because we don't know where our leak is and so I'm not prepared to have this pass through the hands of Tech Services. If that's where Klempner has his snoop planted and he cottoned on to what I'm doing, it's anyone's guess what might get installed on this machine. And then we would have given Klempner a panoramic view of everyone and everything passing through the front doors of the Haswell Corporation." He tightens a couple of screws before flipping the whole machine over and opening the lid. "Just give it a minute to boot up."

"What does it do?"

"Among other things, it's a slave to my own machine. So, if and when Kirstie contacts me again to say she can see something going on, I'll be able to watch from here."

"And if you don't have your laptop handy when an alarm comes in?"

He holds up his mobile. "We live in the age of the very personal computer…. On which subject if you let me have your phone for a few minutes I'll install the app that links to Kirstie's panic button."

*****

Klempner - Twenty-Six Years Ago

A TV plays in the reception area. I've pretty much ignored it the last several days. Most of the time it displays ice-hockey but something on the screen catches my eye and I turn to see what.

It's displaying CNN.

Christ!

I watch the report, follow the ticker-tape headlines scrolling across the bottom….

Soviet empire collapsed….

Gorbachev resigned….

…. When the fuck did this happen?

While I've been living in a bubble, the world has moved on and….

Opportunities….

The reception calls across. "Can I help you, sir?"

"Do you have a newspaper?"

*****

The usual morning buffet is laid out; cereals, fruit, yoghurt, Mitch's favourite, the porridge, and of course the smörgåsbord of cheeses, herring, salmon and… hmmm….

I look closer…

Eel?

Not had that before…

I spear a couple of pieces and add it to my plate with a hard-boiled egg, some ham and a bread roll.

Mitch looks at my plate. "I suppose I should try it while I'm here."

Her face has that greenish touch. "Don't eat it to impress me. If you like porridge, stick to that."

She sniffs. "I was thinking about what you were saying; about the food being part of the travel experience."

She reaches for a plate then scoops a piece of the eel onto it, followed by a bit of löksill, then some kryddsill….

*****

She emerges from the bathroom, red-faced and sweating, looking sheepish. "Sorry."

"Did you bring it all up?"

"Mmmm, yes."

"Want to eat again yet? Something to settle you?"

Her colour morphs from scarlet to pasty. "In a while."

"How about a bath? That might help."

"That sounds good."

*****

She slumps back against me, supported between my chest and legs, her breathing heavy.

"No more pickled herring, then?" I say.

"I don't think so. Cheese and eggs will be enough of Scandinavian food for me."

I sponge her, rose-scented lather streaming down her spine to join the thick layer of bubbles which undulate over the water.

"Feeling better?"

"Yes, I am, thank you. No-one's ever done this for me before."

And I've never been able to do it before…

Then she twists her face back towards mine. "Larry, it's been amazing. I've never had a Christmas like it. I don't know how to thank you enough."

I nuzzle into her neck. "I'll think of a way."

She chuckles; low and slow in that way she has. That delicious throaty noise.

"How about something to eat?" I suggest. "There's that Asian restaurant near the church you wanted to tr…."

She cuts me off, leaning in close. "I don't want this to end," she whispers.

Something jolts inside me; my heart drumming.

I rest my head on top of hers, my hand in her hair. "It doesn't have to. Don't you know that yet?"

For long seconds, she's silent.

"Mitch?"

"Larry…. I'm not sure…"

"What is it? What's stopping you? Please tell me. Is it me?"

"No." She twists, splashing froth, turning to kneel between my legs and face me. "No, it's not you."

"What then?"

Her eyes are like green caves, swallowing me. I gaze in deep, feeling lost inside. Kissing her forehead, I rise from the bath. "Back in a minute." Dripping foam, I stride through to the bedroom. When I return a few moments later, she's where I left her, waiting, watching. Those green eyes follow me as I step back into the bath and sit again, this time holding out my offering.

"Please wear it. I want you to."

Her eyes drop to the necklace of gold and emeralds, my gift to her which she threw back at me only a few short nights ago.

"Please," I repeat. "Please wear it. Let me put it on you."

Please wear it…

Please choose to wear it…

Choose me…

Choose me…

She blinks, then nods. Reaching around her, I fasten the clasp then adjust it to sit evenly around her lovely neck. She chews at her lips but as she fingers the necklace, her eyes rise to mine.

"Thank you," she says.

I lean forward, brushing my lips over hers. "Thank you."

*****