Part 26 (1/2)
There are even more children than I thought, and more families. As engaged as I am in people watching, I can't help but notice that I'm coming in for my own share of curious looks.
Whether because I'm with Gab or because news of my arrival at Pinnacle House has already spread, people seem curious about me. Their glances aren't offensive or threatening in any way. On the contrary, they just seem to have a friendly interest in the woman Ian has brought into his domain.
The guilt I feel at the possibility that they could suffer because of me quickly ratchets up even further.
”I've worked for Ian for five years,” Gab says. She's watching me carefully. I have the impression that she doesn't miss much.
”There's no one I respect more,” she goes on. ”He's smart, tough, and absolutely reliable, or at least he always was. But right now something's wrong. First, he goes off for ten days on personal business, unheard of for him. When he comes back, he's definitely not happy. Until suddenly he is, only then he isn't again. A guy who's normally rock steady has turned into a friggin' emotional roller coaster. I think you're the reason why.”
She pauses, giving me an opening to deny that. When I fail to take it, she shrugs and goes on.
”He's never brought a woman to Pinnacle House before. Now you're here but he's keeping his distance, having me show you around and make sure that you're comfortable instead of doing that himself. Whatever's going on between the two of you, something isn't hunky-dory.”
At the thought of all that isn't right between Ian and me, my throat tightens. I have to press my lips together to hold back the short, hard sob that wells up without warning.
Gab groans. ”s.h.i.+t, you're not going to cry, are you?”
My head jerks up. I blink fast to hide the tears that threaten. ”Of course not! What do you take me for?”
Her tone softens. ”You kind of remind me of Daphne.”
”Who's she?”
”The love of my life.”
I can't hide my wistfulness. ”You're lucky to have someone like that. Does she know?”
”Know what?”
”How you feel about her?”
”Of course she does. Why would I let her go around not--”
She breaks off and stares at me. ”That's how it is? You're in love with him but you're not sure how he feels?”
The question comes as a shock. I know nothing of love, having never experienced it. I don't even know if I'm capable of so profound and mysterious an emotion. The thought that I might not be fills me with sadness.
”There's nothing like that between us.” I say quickly. ”We're just...” What exactly? Our relations.h.i.+p hardly fits any of the usual categories. Lamely, I pick one. ”Friends.”
Gab looks amused. ”Oh, okay. Since you two are 'friends', you shouldn't have any trouble figuring out what's bothering Ian and fixing it.”
My face heats. ”I wish that were the case but the fact is I don't know all that much about him and I'm afraid that I understand even less.”
She hesitates and I have to a.s.sume that she's wondering how the only woman Ian has ever brought to Pinnacle House can be so ignorant about him.
Finally, she says, ”What do you want to know?”
Her offer convinces me that I've found another person who truly cares about Ian. That emboldens me.
”Anything you can tell me, please.”
She knocks back the last of her espresso, stares at me for a moment, and says, ”He's a Patriots fan, don't ask me why. He makes great chili. He plays lethal handball, likes kickboxing, and has one of the highest kill shot ratings ever recorded. He's brilliant, holds several hundred patents, and has a bunch of honorary degrees.”
Her gaze darkens. ”He hated his father. He's extremely protective of women. What else do you want to know?”
So much that I have no idea where to begin. I'm tempted to ask her about the women in his life besides Susannah but I know that would be overstepping.
”What about his enemies?” I know beyond any doubt that they must exist. ”Who are they?”
Gab hesitates. ”I can reel off names for you, men and women who hold high office and who hate his guts. But most of them aren't much more than puppets. The real danger lies with those who work behind the scenes, pulling the strings. They're unchecked and unaccountable to anyone.”
A possibility occurs to me. ”Is Charles Davos one of them?”
She shoots me a hard, fast look. ”Did Ian tell you that?”
”No, he's hardly told me anything. But I've met Davos.” I shudder at the memory. ”There's something off about him.”
”You think? The guy's a snake. And he's not alone. Ian's been working to find out who the others are. Or at least he was until this HPF thing came along.”
She catches herself, as though she's said too much but I hardly notice. I'm too busy swallowing the fear and guilt that come with the confirmation of my suspicions.
”Do you know when Ian is planning to act?” I ask faintly.
”Not yet. The situation is still being a.s.sessed. But it's going to be soon and if he's in less than full control of himself--”
I think again of his behavior on the polo field when his explosive aggressiveness and disregard for his own safety placed him and others at risk. In a confrontation with the forces of the HPF, the consequences could be far worse.
My own concerns seem petty by comparison. I put them aside without a second thought.
”What can I do?” I ask.
”You're not going to talk him out of what he's planning,” she warns. ”The best you can hope for is to make sure he's focused. To do that--” She looks at me shrewdly. ”How far are you willing to go?”
My throat is so tight that it hurts to speak. But that pain is meaningless compared to the dark fear in the pit of my stomach.
”As far as I have to. If he were harmed because of me--” I break off, unable to continue. Every other consideration, including the need to make my own choices and live my own life, pales into insignificance.
A flash of compa.s.sion darts across Gab's face. Quietly, she says, ”Then figure out what the problem is between you two and fix it. Whatever that takes.”
Chapter Twenty-six.
Ian ”The building was vaporized,” Hollis says. ”There's nothing left but a hole in the ground. The authorities are running around like chickens with their heads cut off but our guys are getting the job done. They're doing soil a.n.a.lyses to identify the explosives. Meanwhile we've got people fanning out, looking for anyone a.s.sociated with the Inst.i.tute who's still alive.”
”Did they find anyone yet?” I ask.
We're on the operations floor, always busy but now with the quickening tempo that indicates a mission is imminent. Data flows across the walls of screens, a.s.sembling and rea.s.sembling itself into patterns.