Cloud Dust: RD-1 (R-D #1)(47)

"That may be difficult to achieve," the molecular biologist said. "Although we're willing to do our best."

"I'd appreciate your best. Let me know if you need assistants or equipment. We have full funding for this project."

*

Corinne

Rafe didn't want me to go to the airbase with him. I didn't want to cry in front of him. I ended up only sniffling a time or two as I watched him climb into the standard-issue, dark van. We'd said our good-byes in private earlier. James and August stood with me as the van drove away.

"James will take over your self-defense instruction," August said as we turned to go back inside the villa. "Beginning tomorrow."

"James?" I blinked at him. He shrugged and grinned.

"He knows he won't get cookies if he's too harsh," August smiled. I hadn't seen him smile in days. "I expect him to be thorough, Corinne. I won't settle for pretending."

"Yeah? I still have bruises from Rafe. He never took it easy on me."

"He wants what I want, and that's you capable of fending off an attack."

"You worry too much," I muttered.

"I'll be waiting in the new workout room at ten tomorrow morning. That'll give you time for running and breakfast," James said.

"Yes, drill sergeant," I said. "Am I supposed to salute, too?"

"No. I'd have to teach you that, and I doubt you'd take it seriously anyway."

"True." I hunched my shoulders. They were trying to take my mind off Rafe's departure. I sighed.

*



Two days later, after my self-defense class, running and weight lifting, my new computer arrived. James arrived with it, to hook it up for me.

"I got a two-terabyte hard drive, the same wireless keyboard and mouse you had before and a huge, non-glare monitor that's easy on your eyes."

That wasn't all—he'd ordered a new workstation, a comfortable chair and anything else I wanted, including a tablet, a laptop and a second monitor. I also had file cabinets for hard copies and research files.

"You know I could have paid for this," I said while he hooked up cables.

"I know. We didn't pay for the stuff that got blown up, so consider this your insurance payment. Besides, you need these new monitors for the photographs we'll be sending to you. All Colonel Hunter asks is that you study the photographs as soon as you can after we send them, and let us know if there's anything about them we should watch for."

"I'll certainly do that. Will we get anything from Rafe?"

"That's the plan, but it may be sporadic."

I couldn't send messages; August already said that. I found myself hoping that Rafe wouldn't be gone long, but that was unlikely and impractical. Stay safe, I sent in Rafe's direction as I watched James work on my computer.

*

Ilya

The streets of Dublin, narrow and crowded at night in the Temple Bar district, was where I stood when I received her message. Corinne. I missed her and found myself shoving the ache away. I had a lead on Mary Evans and was determined to track her down. If she didn't want to reveal what she knew, I think Corinne might be useful in that respect. The American President did say that she'd provide anything needed in my search.

My needs could include Corinne and her talents.

My lead was a man—one who'd barely been in the photograph I'd seen of Mary Evans speaking with Baikov. The man looked to be a stranger. Corinne never pointed him out—she couldn't see his full face. I was learning things about her, although we'd never discussed them.

She had to see their faces clearly to do what she did and to know what she knew.

This face was blurred and partially visible. I recognized the location in the photograph—a hotel near Temple Bar on Fleet Street. While I didn't expect to find Mary Evans standing on a sidewalk again, I could track down the man in the photograph who, as it turns out, drove a cab. He'd driven Mary Evans to the designated meeting place and then waited nearby to take her away again.

Armed with a computer-enhanced image, I intended to track him and his cab down. Ignoring brick-paved streets and square-cut, stone sidewalks between shops and buildings, I cautiously looked about me, studying every cab that drove past.

*

"I'm not sure why we're here, actually."

President Amelia Sanders studied the one who'd spoken. Three scientists sat in chairs before her, wearing expressions of curiosity and confusion.

"Because I couldn't reach Richard Farrell," the President said.

"He's probably in a tent at the South Pole," another spoke. "That's what I heard three weeks ago. You realize we only have partial information. Richard is the only one," he stopped speaking when the President raised her hand.

"One of the recipients is, shall we say, running amok on the outside," the President began. "I want to know—as much as you can tell me, anyway—what the full liability of that might be."

"Not good," the neurobiologist mumbled. "It depends upon whose hands he falls into, and what their goals may be."

"Think worst-case scenario," President Sanders replied. "While Dr. Farrell won't appreciate having his vacation with the penguins interrupted, I'm sending someone after him."