Cloud Dust: RD-1 (R-D #1)(12)
"You say I'll have a kitchen available?"
"Yes, but you'll share it with another resident."
"I prefer not to share."
"It's that or no kitchen at all. Those are your options."
"I hope he stays out of my way."
"She will likely stay as far away from you as possible, if the rumors are true."
"Is she part of the Program?"
"Yes, although she seldom participates."
"By her choice?"
"By her talent. She has little, according to my records."
"Her name?"
"Corinne."
*
Corinne
I eyed the new connecting door distrustfully, as if something might pop through it at any moment. Realistically, I knew I'd probably be introduced first, but that didn't keep my fear at bay while I checked on pot roast and vegetables.
Pot roast would last me two or three days, if I made sandwiches. That left more writing time, and with the impending Russian invasion, I could avoid seeing him as much as possible if I didn't cook so often.
Until he started beating me into a floor mat at the gym while pretending to teach Krav Maga.
August let me see the heavily redacted dossier on him, since we'd share space. I learned his original first name, too—Ilya. Common enough, and safe enough, since I didn't officially have a last name to go with it.
I heard he spoke English better than most Americans, with no trace of a Russian accent, and that he spoke many more languages—fluently. No surprise, since he was a spy. No wonder the Russians were experiencing palpitations.
Rafe Black was his new name. I'd see how well it fit him. No photographs were included in any of the information I'd been given, so I had no idea what he'd look like. It didn't matter; I intended to stay out of his way behind the new, steel door that divided my office and sleeping quarters from the kitchen.
*
Ilya
I didn't need the bulletproof vest I wore. My talent appeared to be shielding—good enough to stop bullets. They'd been afraid to test anything stronger against what I had. I could protect anyone standing near me, too—up to four feet. Past that, they died. Obviously, I'd only protected mannequins during the testing. That was a shame; I wouldn't have minded seeing a few doctors and scientists riddled with bullets.
"Here's the entrance to the tunnel," my companion, Dalton Parrish, announced. They'd named him my handler. We'd see who did the handling.
The tunnel was perhaps a quarter mile long, and the entrance lay beyond a guarded gate. Once we'd driven past the tunnel, I saw the Mansion.
It was impressive, but I'd stayed in better.
"Your quarters are on the third floor," Dalton informed me as I lifted my duffel from the trunk of the vehicle. "My suite is next to yours, but not connected."
"Good," I said.
"Uh, when do you want to meet the others?" He didn't know whether my last response meant that I was glad he was next door or glad his suite wasn't connected to mine. I let him worry about it.
"Tomorrow," I said. "That will be soon enough." Hefting the bag over a shoulder, I walked toward the nearest entrance.
*
Corinne
"He's here, so you may hear something next door if you're in the kitchen," August said. "He said he didn't want to meet anyone until tomorrow, so we're delivering a meal to his suite for tonight," he added.
"Thank God." I slouched onto a barstool and let my forehead drop to the island. "I can eat in peace tonight, at least."
I didn't add that I wished they'd put a sign on the connecting door, or some other way to let us know the other's preferred cooking schedules. I shoved that thought away and lifted my head to blink at August. He was frowning at me. No surprise.
"Corinne, I expect you to keep me informed," he said.
"August, if there's anything worthy of informing you about, you'll hear it from me, first. Okay?" I figured the new guy's brand of toothpaste wasn't important to national security.
"Okay."
*
Notes—Colonel Hunter
"Corinne's scared to death," Shaw informed me.
"Did she tell you that?"
I'd met Shaw in the coffee shop at his request; he'd seen Corinne the day before. "No, she didn't say it. I asked a few questions—how she felt about sharing space with a stranger, that sort of thing. It wasn't difficult to draw the logical conclusion."
"I don't blame her for being frightened. He's taller now than he was before, and looks even tougher, if that's possible."
"You've seen photographs?"
"Yes. I kept those away from Corinne."
"That was probably a mistake. The first time she walks into her kitchen for coffee and finds him there, she'll have a panic attack."
"We're making arrangements to introduce him to her and the others in a controlled setting," I argued. "So she won't have panic attacks. I'm hoping for a kitchen schedule, too, to keep the peace."
"Best laid plans, Colonel?" Shaw lifted a skeptical eyebrow.
"Probably. I don't know what will happen when he starts training her in Krav Maga."