Rifter (The Survival Project Duology Book 1) (18 page)

“I’ll be careful,” she said.

“I’m still coming. I’ll wait outside. I’m not letting you meet him without back-up.”

She smiled. He’d be dead on his feet if he stayed up much longer, but she was pretty sure there was no point in telling him he couldn’t come with her. He had a look of determination on his face that was hard to miss.

“This isn’t another one of your cop show scenarios we’re playing out, is it?”

He smiled, but with no humour in his eyes.

“No,” he said, “I’m as certain as I can be that this is real life.”

Twenty-two

The hotel Leo had picked for his meeting with Mara was off the beaten track, about fifteen minutes from the centre on the tube. It wasn’t a well-known hotel with all the frills and flourishes, or even one of the well-known chains, but it was big enough to lose yourself in, and it had a constant stream of tourists checking in and out. He hadn’t chosen it for its charm, or its facilities, he had chosen it because he didn’t want to be noticed. He’d used it once or twice before when he wanted to do something completely away from prying eyes, or simply when he’d needed a break from his new life. The Department couldn’t monitor every hotel room, or every wireless network. No, they probably could do the latter, if they knew where you were. But would they? There was a limit to their resources.

He’d asked for a room on the first floor, primarily for the fact that he’d be able to get away quickly. That was because he knew how Mara was going to react to what he was intending to say and do. The initial few minutes of contact might be okay, even full of tears, memories and hugs, but the ending wouldn’t be. There was no way she was going to agree to him taking her place, the return trip to the world that was their own.

At least, she’d agreed to meet with him. There had been no guarantee of that. He’d needed to pull her in and telling her that he wasn’t from this world, that he was the man who went through the rift and never came back had, at a minimum, piqued her interest.

Okay, he hadn’t actually said it, but it was obvious.

He hoped she wasn’t bringing her new companion with her, but after involving him to make contact with her, it was unlikely he would stay away. He’d already helped her escape once, so he clearly wasn’t afraid. But there was no way he was getting into the room with them. Leo would make sure of it, with threats, if necessary.

The room looked out onto the backs of other buildings — in London, even away from the centre, you’d be hard pressed to find anything different. It wasn’t ideal. Windows always had people behind them. People had eyes and ears. But that was what curtains were for. He closed the them, even though the skies were nowhere near turning dark yet, and flicked on the two bedside lamps.

He checked everything in the room for any potential danger. They’d been trained how to use everyday objects as weapons, because even the most unlikely of items could serve some defensive, or offensive, purpose if you were backed into a corner, and when Mara realised what he was going to do, he was pretty sure she would take any advantage she could get. The only obvious weapon, apart from using water or electricity in some way, or lifting up a chair, was the telephone cord — the one for the kettle was far too short to do any damage, but the telephone cord was a different matter. He ripped it out and put it in his pocket. It might prove useful. The coat hangers, even though they had no hooks on them, he put in the cupboards above the wardrobe, as well as all the hotel information books, pads, pens, and the kettle and telephone. Anything that was loose went up there. He moved the desk chair into the bathroom — the single armchair was too big to worry about — and he closed the door. He got out a coin, fixed it into the slot on the catch, and locked it from the outside. Then, he checked for any potential means of escape. All the windows were fixed to open no more than a few inches, but he made sure they were closed and locked properly. Mara was a lot smaller than him, if pressed, she might be able to squeeze out that way. Bit of a drop, but sometimes you needed to take risks. The only other option was the door out onto the corridor and he intended to lock it and block it with his body as soon as she was inside.

All he could do was wait.

Even though she’d said she would come, he wouldn’t believe it until she walked through that door. If she didn’t, he still hadn’t obtained the coordinates of where she was staying. Although, he didn’t relish breaking into somewhere like that, it would be good to have a back-up. It couldn’t be helped. He wondered if he could steer the conversation around to her telling him, before she knew of his intentions.

He clutched his hands to stop them from shaking. Nerves not allowed. He needed to relax. He’d never been good with waiting.

He lay back on the bed and let his mind begin to drift back. Eight years back.

It was a wonder they’d ever got together. Relationships weren’t frowned upon for everyone on The Project, only those who were destined to journey to another world. The policy, because that’s what it was, an official policy, was meant to avoid heartache for the rifters, but they all knew the risks. They all knew they might not return. He and Mara had reckoned it was their choice whether or not they saw each other. They had defied the policy, citing it as unnecessary state control. State. They often used to joke about how The Facility was like some isolated country, out there on the platform, battered by the unrelenting seas.

The policy was right, of course, because at that moment, when he’d been about to walk into a tunnel that could lead him to his death, he’d forced himself not to look back at Mara. Even though he would never admit it, it hurt too much to look at her. It was simpler to pretend she wasn’t there. He had never meant to fall for her, but she’d been persistent, as if he were some kind of project as well. Leaving her had been torture, but he’d forced himself to think of the big picture. Back then, he had cared.

She probably didn’t see it the same way, but she’d stemmed her emotion, acceding to his wishes.

When he’d stepped into the rift, the excitement had taken over, and once he arrived at the other side, he’d had so much to do that he didn’t even think about her. Not until that moment when he knew for certain that he wasn’t going back. Then, it hit him that he might never see her again.

He hadn’t been prepared for how his emotions betrayed him. He wasn’t nearly as strong as he’d thought. He missed her every day while he was kept imprisoned. He tried to shut off his feelings, but they kept evading the blocks and flooding through. Just like he’d told Atwood, that was why he’d searched for Mayra when he was finally free. He’d thought she’d be the same. Stupid really, he wasn’t the same as his grandfather, but sometimes when you were desperate, you did desperate things. Of course, his actions had the opposite effect. Mayra had cured him of those emotions quite quickly. He couldn’t help thinking that Mara would grow to be like her grandmother one day, and as time had gone on, he’d lost any real feelings for the woman he used to love. Almost. There was still that slight twinge every now and then, which had become more frequent over the last two days.

Memories, good memories, kept flickering through his thoughts. Quick glimpses of what life had been like.

The firm knock on the door made him jump. He almost screamed out in surprise, but he clamped his hand over his mouth before the sound became more than a squeak. He got up and checked through the spy hole. He could only see her, but that didn’t mean that this Kerry wasn’t there. He opened the door a crack and looked out. There was no sign of anyone else. He let her in.

He closed the door behind him and turned the lock. She started at that, but she didn’t say anything.

“I didn’t think a do not disturb sign was enough,” he said. He smiled, he hoped convincingly. “How are you, Mara?”

He’d only said a few words and already he sounded false to his own ears. He was trying hard to remember how he used to act. The kind of things they talked about. Anything that would make her feel comfortable, relaxed. That would get her to lower her guard. But eight years was a long time. Memories distorted, took on a different character. The situation was very different from the night before when he’d been able to pretend he didn’t know her.

He looked into her eyes. It was clear she’d been crying, because there was a rim of red skin around them, but from the way she stood, feet apart, arms crossed, she’d dispelled the emotion for the moment. He saw her glance at the holster. He’d made sure it was visible.

“How do I know it’s you?” she said. There was no wobble in her voice.

The name hadn’t been enough? She was right. She did need more proof and he could let her have that. He needed her to be confident that it was him, or nothing he said would make sense.

There were many stories he could tell of things they’d done, but he decided there was only one thing he could do that would leave her in no doubt. He pulled his non-functioning brac out of his pocket.

She gasped.

Her eyes fixed on it like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her hand moved to her mouth.

He moved a little closer, still keeping the door behind him. She stepped back in response. Still cautious? But believing, he hoped.

She stared at him long and hard, as if she were trying to think of a reason not to believe him, but then, she nodded. She clenched her fists tight before she spoke again.

“I don’t understand. Why didn’t you come back?”

It was the obvious question. Of course, she’d want to know about that. Gordon would probably have spun them a line about the rift becoming unstable.

“I got delayed. I missed the window.”

He wasn’t going to give her the true answer, because delayed wasn’t strictly true. Stopped was more like it, and she didn’t need to know that. That wouldn’t help his cause and would involve him in lengthy explanations. He didn’t have time for those. She would know the full truth soon enough.

He reached out to take one of her hands in his and she let him. He carefully unrolled the scrunched up fingers and rubbed his thumb gently across her palm. It was something he used to do. Something she would remember and, if he was lucky, would spark her emotions. She let him, for a few seconds, then pulled her hand away as if the touch of his skin on hers burned. It was clear she wasn’t going to make this easy.

“Is that because you went to them and told them all about us?”

“No. It wasn’t like that.”

“Then how was it, Leo? You sold yourself out? Instead of keeping quiet, you told them everything? What do these people want? Why are they guarding the disruption? Are they going to try to stop me going back? Is that it?”

At that moment, he understood. Even though she believed who he was, she thought he was going to betray her. She thought he was going to turn her over to Debra and the others who worked in The Department. He’d given her too much time to think, or maybe her companion had stuck his oar in, suggesting conspiracy theories.

She hadn’t got it quite right, but it was still a problem.

“I don’t know if they’re going to stop you, but it’s likely. I presume you know they’ve placed guards at the disruption?”

It was true. He didn’t know what Debra had planned, because he hadn’t asked, but he knew what had happened to him.

“I don’t believe you. You work for them. Of course, you know.”

She wasn’t going to give in. If there was one way to ensure he lost any last remnant of feeling for her, this would be it. He could feel his heart begin to harden. He could feel his anger begin to rise. He was going to get his way. She was not going to impede his plans. He would give her one more chance and that would be it.

“Look, Mara, The Department didn’t know the disruption was going to appear here. I believed what we were told. That there wasn’t a chance of another disruption opening up in the same place. That I would have to make a life for myself. What else did I know? I might’ve been a computer expert, but I didn’t know anything about their systems. I didn’t know anyone. The only thing I knew was how to explain the blip on their radar.”

He watched her face closely for any sign that she didn’t believe him. There was no softening of her features that might indicate a softening of her heart. She’d changed.

Or he’d changed her.

“You’re not my Leo,” she said, “You’re different.
My
Leo would’ve come straight out and told me what had happened the moment he saw me. You knew it was me in your flat, didn’t you? You let me sit there like some …. some ….” She grunted in frustration.

She was wrong.
Her
Leo had always been suspicious. Had she forgotten that? Just like she was suspicious now, only he was many times worse than he had been then.
Her
Leo had been a schemer, as well.

He moved over to the bed and sat down, temporarily giving up his position of control in an attempt to get her to relax before he made his move. He patted the covers beside him. “Sit, please.” She thought about it for a moment, but she did. Not close. It was like she was keeping him away from her in case ….

“Time changes people. You must know that, but … I still love you.”

Her retort was quick and full of venom.

“No, you love her. What did you do? Put an ad in the paper, or on your precious Internet? Girlfriend wanted, no other face accepted?”