What if Marta didn’t cooperate? That was possible. Oh-so-holy Marta, as if her own foibles made her a saint. If she doesn’t cooperate, then I’ll run the company myself and Dana gets a shot at management sooner than I expected. I’ll give Jim a second chance. He was a good friend. Maybe things will turn out differently this time…
Eva paced and scratched. What if the investigation into NMech led to Cerberus? Impossible. No one would find a link between Rockford and Cerberus because there was none. And Cerberus was secure. In the meantime, she would prepare for a special guest. She rubbed at the raw skin on her forearm. The damned itching wouldn’t stop. Never mind, I have work to do, accounts to settle.
It was time to let Cerberus off his leash. Time to cut off the leeches, starting with the soldier and the scientist and the tea man. Once she was certain of Cerberus, then all the thieves who’d stolen her time and her money would be on their own.
But first, she thought, it’s long past time to settle a personal account. It was a small matter, a point of personal pride. No one insults me with impunity. We’ll see who’s the runt.
Time for a reckoning.
24
A GENTLE TOUCH IS ALL
FROM THE MEMORIES
OF DANA ECCO
The next time I saw Eva Rozen was almost like old times. She was playful in her own way. If she’d just caused a disaster that killed scores of people, then she didn’t show it. True, her skin was flushed, her hands trembled, and her eyes had a nervous tic, like she was winking at me over and over, but Eva was always unpredictable. Besides, we’d always gotten along like peas and carrots—until my mother pulled us apart, that is.
I was trying to come to grips with the disaster I’d just seen. None of this had made any sense to me. I was mature for my age, but a fifteen-year-old can draw just so much from experience. Even a fifteen-year-old who’s closer to sixteen.
I was alone in the conference room. My parents went home. I told them that I would take a P-cab back to Brookline. I heard the door open behind me. Even with my back to the door, I knew that Eva stood there. Everyone has a unique sonic signature, although hers is more like an absence where there should be a presence, like a chalk outline where a body had been. I sensed a small hole in the air currents that blew into the boardroom when the door opened. She displaced so little air that she might as well not exist.
She stopped just inside the door. Neither of us moved nor spoke for at least a minute. I was looking out the window and reached my hand up over my shoulder to offer an upturned palm, like a back-facing beggar. I held my hand loose, no tension in the fingers, and kept my gaze forward. Eva walked forward and slipped her hand into mine. The skin felt leathery and hot. We held hands for several moments, me with my back to her and Eva erect, looking over my shoulder. She subvocalized and the windows became mirrors. I was suddenly staring into the eyes of—of what? A murderer? A misunderstood friend? All I saw was anguish.
“You scared of me, Little One?” Her voice was uneven but her grip on my hand was as steady as a sailor on a tiller. I squeezed her hand once to signal that I wanted my own hand back. She didn’t let go but leaned over me and placed her other hand on my forearm. Her strength seemed to have grown and I was pinned in place.
“You think I did it?” I was still thinking over her first question, whether I was frightened by my mentor and friend. I got the feeling that Eva wanted an answer now. I had no time to ponder the day’s events.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Either you did or you didn’t.” She made no move to release me. “If you didn’t, then there’s nothing to be afraid of, right?” She shook her head.
“Answer the question. Do you think I caused the Rockford blast?”
“Eva, I’ve known you my whole life and I’ve seen you when you’re mad at somebody. Maybe you’ve even been mad at someone to the point where it was fatal. I don’t know. But I’ve never seen you hurt somebody who didn’t make you mad.”
“I’m not going to ask you again,” she repeated. My hand was beginning to ache in her grip. It was cards-on-the-table time.
“If you did, then you’re not the same person I know. So, I would say, no, Eva Rozen didn’t cause the explosion.”
Not good enough. “So, I’m crazy like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde? My evil twin did it?”
“Oh, crap, Eva, give me a break.” That was better. “I’m not even sixteen years old. What do you want from me? Word games? Then do a crossword puzzle. You want a diagnosis? See a doctor. Now it’s Jekyll and Hyde? What, you’re suddenly reading fiction?”
“Funny,” she snorted. We were heading towards rapprochement.
“Tell me, yes or no. Do you think I blew up the Rockford plant?” I tried to turn around to look at her but her hand remained on my forearm and I remained in place.
“Eva, I don’t believe you blew anything up. But—you have been acting weird lately, and other people are going to look at you for Rockford. I hope you’ve got a good alibi.”
There was a sudden rigidity in her bearing. She pressed down ever so slightly on my forearm, relented and pressed again. Just long enough to catch her balance—or download a file to my datasleeve. A gentle touch was Eva’s style. She didn’t need to touch someone’s sleeve to jack it; it was simply part of her own gestural vocabulary. It meant, “Tag—you’re it.”
“You aim to repossess my hand?” I asked and wiggled my fingers in her grip. I pitched my voice low and calm. I looked down, submissively. If this was an Eva I didn’t know, if this Eva triggered the blast, then I was holding hands with a mass murderer.
She made her decision, gave another snort, and let go. “What would I do with your ugly old hand? Besides, I’m not done with you.” She sat down at the table next to me.
“What does that mean?”
“We both know that your mom’s been keeping you away from me. But we still have work to do, lessons to learn.”
“Don’t be mad at my mom, okay? Everybody’s mad at everybody else now. She needs to cut you some slack, but you need to be a little more…normal.”
“You say so.”
I think she intended her voice to be flat, but there was strain in it, pain as well. My left hand moved of its own volition to cup her face. She stroked my hand for a moment. Touching her felt good, despite the odd texture to her skin. I leaned forward with my eyes closed. Our foreheads touched and we sat in silent communion for what could have been just seconds or maybe minutes.
“Little One,” she said quietly. “I still have two important lessons for you but we have to be careful. Your mother is—”
“She’s afraid of you, is what she is! She doesn’t trust her own son!” I nearly shouted. My own emotions were still quite volatile.
“She’s concerned, Dana. Concerned. She’s wrong. She hurt my feelings—a lot—but she cares about you. You think you’re being treated like a child but she’s doing better than any mother I’ve ever known. Even if she’s wrong about me.”
“You know a lot of mothers, Eva?” I regretted the remark as soon I uttered it. Too late to pull it back.
Eva just looked at me for a long minute. I saw an entire childhood pass across her eyes. I saw hope and longing, disappointment and dispossession. Then anger. “One was enough,” she said, “and I know that good mothers make mistakes, but they’re always looking after their children. You got one of the best.”
“Fat lot of good it’s doing us right now.”