Cloud Dust: RD-1 (R-D #1)(46)

"That's crazy," I shook my head. "No wonder she wouldn't talk about it. Nobody would want to talk about that."

"He thought she was dead, too, when he committed suicide."

"So she was forced to watch all of them die."

"Looks that way."

"Fuck."

"I think it's extremely important to Corinne that we find those who orchestrated that mess—as well as recent events. She and Rafe are convinced they're connected. You and I tend to agree with that assessment."

"They're connected, all right. We still don't have verification on the location of the items taken from the Louvre, or whether the British crown jewels are resting beside them, but I don't doubt for a moment that the same one paid for all of it."

"There's no lack of money to back Cutter's mad schemes, whatever those are," Shaw said.

"Billions," I agreed. "Enough to entice anyone with the resources to pull off this kind of larceny and assassination. Those people in the Louvre? Collateral damage, to provide an excuse for the robbery."

"And Corinne happened to be there. If she hadn't, we'd still believe that it was an act of terrorism only, and unconnected to the rest of this."

"Is Rafe set up with identification?"

"Several sets, with safe houses and drop box locations here and there. I think I'd worry more about him disappearing, except that he cares about Corinne."

"He cares about Corinne. That's not a lie. He'd do anything for her, I think. I just worry about separating them."

"She can't go—she'd be a liability."

"They both know that. What I suggest, however, is to get any information or photographs we receive from him to Corinne, so she can tell us what she knows."

"We've learned our lesson on that, I think. The President was shocked when she and Rafe pointed out General Baikov."

"She'd be wise to allow Corinne to vet anyone who comes close to her for any reason."

"I'll make that suggestion. All she needs is a photograph, after all."

*

Ilya

Disturbing—her story. No wonder she was so reluctant to tell any of it. It opened wounds and she was ill prepared to deal with so much pain. I watch her sleep, now, surprised there have been so few tears through it all.

No—Corinne shakes instead of weeping, as if she has decided that those who brought this evil upon her are not worthy of her tears.

I agree.

Like me, she has a score to settle. It may turn out to be that our scores are with the same one—or ones. Both of us, in our own ways, have promised ourselves that the guilty shall not go unpunished. There is too much blood and too many deaths to avenge.

I love you, I murmur to her in my native language. She is asleep and cannot hear.

It is the truth, however. Yes, I loved another in the past, just as she did. They are gone, now, and we have each other. We understand one another. Perhaps it is fate. Who knows? She moves beneath my hand. I soothe.

*

Corinne

I slept eight hours. Eight hours I could have spent with Ilya. We skirted the issue of our visit with Dr. Shaw, unwilling to bring that pain back into our lives. Instead, by mutual, unspoken consent, we went downstairs to the kitchen and proceeded to cook.

Somehow, James had performed a miracle and replaced most of what I'd had in my kitchen, including a bread machine. We had fresh bread baking, cookies in the oven, pot roast on the stove and were working on fresh green beans when people started wandering in.

Fried chicken was added to the menu—we didn't have enough pot roast for all who showed up, but we ended up serving just about everybody at the villa that night.

"Why didn't you invite me to dinner before?" August asked. He'd gone through a plate full of pot roast, mashed potatoes, gravy and green beans.

"Uh, you're married, remember?"

"Oh. That."

"She's not coming, is she? Auggie, are you sure you're okay with that?"

"Yeah. This is my work. Both of us get that."

"But," I said.

"No buts. This job is important, and I don't want to do anything else. End of story."

"All right. I just hope it doesn't put a strain on the relationship."

"What if I were stationed overseas? She wouldn't go there, either."

"Okay." I patted his shoulder.

"Want more bread?" Rafe carried a plate of fresh bread.

"I'll take a slice." August helped himself. "I like home-cooked meals."

"Me, too. That's why I wanted a kitchen," I said.

"That's why I wanted a kitchen—and Corinne," Rafe grinned and put an arm around my shoulders.

"Is that right?" I leaned back to look up at him. He kissed me in front of everybody.





Chapter 11

"General, this is quite unusual—the blood chemistry."

Paul Cutter watched the biochemist hired to examine Becker's blood as he tapped the computer screen. The molecular biologist standing nearby nodded at the biochemist's words—Cutter knew he'd never seen anything like it, either.

"You know I'm not interested in how different it is. I'm interested in separating the part of it that kills most other hosts. For research purposes, you understand. My colleagues and I are willing to pay handsomely for the results, and there's a bonus if we get those results within three months."