Cloud Dust: RD-1 (R-D #1)(11)

"We all worry about that—that somebody knows. So far, we've been safe."

"I worry about what will happen if ninety-five families find out their relatives didn't die in combat."

"We had nothing to do with that, and you know it. Those were volunteers. The life insurance payouts given to the families weren't refused, either."

"No comment."

*

Corinne

Waking up in the afternoon after sleeping all day after staying up most of the night before always leaves me groggy and nauseated. I wouldn't have awakened when I did if there hadn't been a knock on my door.

Shuffling toward my front door and silently cursing whoever stood on the other side, I peered through my peephole to see who it was.

Colonel August Hunter. He didn't look happy.

"Who pissed in your Post Toasties?" I asked when I opened the door.

"I don't eat Post Toasties."

"Shredded Wheat?" I asked innocently.

"This isn't about breakfast cereal."

"Then come in and tell me what it is about," I waved him in. Yes, I was dressed in pajamas and a robe, which wasn't exactly military issue. Colonel Hunter ignored my dress and walked inside my suite.

"I just got word," he began, "While I was downstairs having a late lunch with Doctor Shaw."

"What word is that?" I asked.

"That we'll be getting a new resident soon," August muttered.

"Great. Didn't I tell you that? I thought I told you that," I said trying to comb fingers through my hair. It likely looked as if birds had nested in it. Condors, maybe. I didn't have a mirror to check.

"Corinne, will you stop and listen for a minute?"

"I'm listening."

"They want to put him in the suite next to yours, because he likes to cook. You'll be sharing your kitchen with him, looks like, since it's the only one available to a resident. They'll install a connecting door in the next few days, and they'll put up something sturdier between your living space and the kitchen, so you can lock yourself in. The kitchen is the only thing you're expected to share."

"No. That's not acceptable," I snapped, immediately angry. "It's one thing to be hauled here without being given a choice in the matter. It's something else to share any space with one of the others. You know how they all feel about me." I tossed up a hand, as if that might make a difference.

"Corinne, the decision wasn't mine to make. I objected when I heard, but that didn't sway the ones in charge."

"So they don't even know how things will turn out with him and already he's getting perks? Typical," I huffed. "When have they ever given me perks? Want to answer that?" I rounded on August, as if he could wave a hand and make things different for me.

"I know," I held up a hand. "Neither of us has a choice in this. Thank you for voicing your concerns. When will the wrecking crew arrive?"

"Thursday."

"Fine. Will he be sharing my groceries and kitchen gadgets, in addition to insulting me every chance he gets?"

"They didn't say. I assume that's true."

"Will the smell of borsht be permeating my office?"

"I don't know."

"You know," I pointed a finger at August, "Every time I think things can't get any worse, they always do."

"There's more," August winced.

"Oh, joy. Please—do tell."

"He's an expert in Krav Maga."

"Great."

"Corinne, they'll ask him to take over your lessons."

"Just to keep him busy, huh?" I shook my head in disbelief. "If he's occupied with obliterating the least important person in the building, maybe he can't get into too much trouble?"

"I think they want you to help keep an eye on him."

"No. There are enough people in this building watching what everybody else does. You don't need my help for that."

"Corinne, I'm asking you to do that. With that special insight you seem to have, maybe you can let us know if he's on the level or not."

"Wow. There go my plans of avoiding him altogether."

"There's something else."

"Lemmings have invaded the White House?"

"Cori."

"Okay."

"You're expected to go to meetings with the Five from now on."

"Auggie, say it ain't so."





Chapter 4

Ilya

"We'll allow leeway on your new name—within reason. Nothing Russian—that should be obvious."

"I'm from Ukraine." That should have explained everything to the dolt sitting behind the desk, but it didn't.

"Nothing Ukrainian, either."

Fucker. "Rafe," I said. "Rafe Black. That will do."

"You sure? You won't be able to change it, once it's entered in your dossier."

"I don't intend to change it."

He lifted an eyebrow but tapped the name on his computer anyway. "We'll have legal documents sent to you at the Mansion. Is there anything else?"