by Sophie Lark
“I never sleep, and I’m extremely obsessive,” Andrea said seriously. “Dig in, everyone; we’re not waiting for Violet. She might show up at midnight for all I know.”
“I’m here, I’m here!” Violet cried, bustling into the dining room with her coat still on. “Sorry! I had to bartend at a bat mitzvah this afternoon.”
“In that?” Andrea asked, looking at Violet’s rather revealing dress.
“Absolutely in this,” Violet said. “I live off tips, you know.”
“Right on time,” Emerson said, winking at her.
“God, this smells good,” Violet said. She pulled a drumstick off the chicken and took a huge bite out of it. Andrea sighed and started carving the rest of the meat into uniform slices.
“Holly!” Violet cried, only just noticing who was sitting next to Black. “I didn’t know you were coming!”
“I forgot to tell you on Thursday,” Black said.
“You forgot—” Violet reached across the table to smack him on the shoulder. “Are you two dating? Why doesn’t anyone tell me anything?”
“That would require answering your phone,” Andrea said.
“Did you know they were dating?” Violet demanded of her sister.
“No,” Andrea said primly, “but I’m very glad.”
“Me too,” Violet said, grinning across the table at them. “I thought there must be something going on. The last time two times I saw you Byron, you were actually smiling!”
“He smiled?” Holly asked in mock astonishment.
“He’s doing it again right now!” Violet said.
“It must be a record,” Andrea said.
“Come on now, ladies,” Emerson said, shaking a finger at them. “That’s not fair at all. You know that Black has smiled at least three separate times, in ‘98, ‘04, and 2012.”
“I don’t like to waste them,” Black said calmly.
He didn’t care if they all made fun of him. He loved to see Holly laughing with his sisters. The Blacks were a small family, but very close. Holly fit in perfectly with them all. It looked as if she’d always been at the table with them. Like she always should be, in the future.
He was sorry to drop her off at her apartment later that night. She had to be up at some awful time in the morning for a breakfast meeting.
“Thanks for coming with me,” he said, kissing her on the doorstep.
“Any time,” she said. “I loved it. You know what I was thinking?”
“What?”
“I was thinking that my parents are pretty decent, but my brother is shit. And your parents weren’t the best, but your sisters are wonderful. So, between the two of us, we could have a pretty good family.”
She said it playfully, but Black could tell that she meant it. Both he and Holly had grown up missing certain things. They wanted to build the same sort of life as adults. They had the same vision of what they could be as partners. How they could complete one another.
Black kissed her again, longer this time.
“I think you’re right,” he said.
Heading back to his own flat, Black found it almost intolerably quiet and sterile. He thought how much more pleasant it would be if it had a little greenery, like Holly’s place. Or the smell of her shampoo, or the coffee she liked to buy…
He undressed and lay in his bed, which also seemed empty and dull.
As he was about to drift off to sleep, he heard the chime of a google alert on his phone. He only had a few set up, for news related to the Citizens and a couple of other names.
Sitting up, he retrieved the phone to see what had triggered it.
He thought it would be something related to the case, but instead he saw an alert for a news article related to Alex Moore.
He stared blankly at the phone for a moment.
He had almost forgot that he set up that alert two years earlier.
Lex Moore had been the love of his life, or so he thought for a time. He’d become completely infatuated with her, without knowing that she was one of the most successful art thieves in Europe. He’d chased her across the continent, only to lose her to another man.
He opened the article.
It was published in a French paper, Le Parisien, but Black knew enough French to get the gist of it.
More than 700 guests attended a Cezanne-themed gala to celebrate the opening of the new wing at the Louvre. Notable guests included Israeli billionaire Gil Drahi, Actress Catherine Deneuve, and art dealer Alex Moore, who brokered the deal to bring ten of Cezanne’s masterpieces home to the Louvre, including The Murder, The Boy in the Red Vest, and Portrait of Madame Cezanne with Loosened Hair.
The article included a number of color photographs.
Black scrolled through them. The second-to-last was a picture of Lex, with her fellow thief Luca Diotallevi at her side. Lex looked as breathtaking as always, dressed in a navy gown, with her long, dark hair flowing down her back.
More than beautiful—she looked absolutely joyful. Her head was thrown back in a laugh, and her hand rested lightly on Luca’s arm. Turned slightly away from the camera as she was, Black could see the full, round swell of her belly. She was pregnant, with Luca’s child.
Lex had been so wild, he never would have imagined that she would truly settle down. Now, only two years later, she was apparently gainfully employed and about to become a mother.
Because people changed.
Black had changed too.
There was a time when this picture would have cut his heart in two. It would have filled him misery and regret.
And now, somehow, he felt completely different.
He looked at Lex’s beautiful, joyous face, and he was glad that she was so happy.
Instead of wishing that he was the man standing next to her, he thought about Holly.
Holly wasn’t wild and mysterious and always running away from him. Holly was bright, effervescent, kind, hopeful, and true. She knew Black, inside and out. She understood him. And she loved him.
It hit him, right in that moment. She had never said it, but he was sure it was true.
Holly loved him. And he loved her. He loved her intelligence, her work ethic, her ideals. And most of all, he loved her indomitable spirit, which was bright, and warm, and refused to be quenched.
He picked up his phone again, not because he wanted to look at the picture of Lex, but because he wanted to call Holly.
But it was past midnight, and he knew she had to be up early in the morning.
So he put the phone back down, resolving to tell her how he felt, as soon as he saw her next.
15
Monday morning, Black rose early. He planned to meet Holly and Morris at the summit at one o’clock that afternoon, but he intended to get as much done as possible in the meantime.
He did a final sweep online for any visible chatter from the Citizens but found nothing. Their silence didn’t reassure him at all. On the contrary, he felt that it was the calm before the storm. They’d gone dark to avoid any tip-off of whatever was about to happen.
On the plus side, when he called Matthew and Helen Ruger as early as seemed decent, they agreed to meet him at a cafe close to Matthew’s office. Black hoped that they’d be able to point him in the direction of anyone who might have tried to shadow Morris in his younger years.
Matthew Ruger was still working full-time as a barrister, though he was in his sixties. Helen said she often took breakfast or lunch with her husband at that particular cafe, if he wasn’t too busy.
They looked like a neat, pleasant couple, older than Black expected. He supposed they had probably tried to have children for a long time before turning to adoption. Helen kept her honey-colored hair cut short and wore a green cardigan and a tweed skirt. Matthew had a professorial look to him, with round-rimmed glasses and a tan jacket.
They had both ordered plain coffee and a plate of scones for the table to share, though the food sat untouched in front of them.
“Thanks for meeting w
ith me,” Black said as he sat down.
“Is Tom not coming as well?” Helen asked.
“No,” Black said, “it’s just me.”
Helen glanced at her husband. A look passed between them that Black could not interpret.
“Well, what can we do for you?” Matthew asked.
“As I’m sure you know, Morris has been targeted recently by a domestic terrorist group. They sent a package bomb to his office, and also planted explosives at a charity fundraiser last Friday.”
The couple nodded slowly.
“I believe that the Citizen’s group is behind the attacks. The same group that was responsible for the bomb that killed Morris’s mother.”
Matthew Ruger nodded again, his mouth pressed into a thin line.
“I guess what I’m looking for is a connection between Tom’s mother and the Citizen’s group. How much did you know about her when you adopted Tom?”
“Well, we never did adopt him,” Matthew said.
Black looked at him in surprise.
“We intended to. At first we were waiting for him to work through the trauma of what had happened to him.”
“It was so horrible. You know she was killed right in front of him, practically,” Helen said.
Black nodded uncomfortably. The Rugers were obviously not aware that Black himself had been there.
“So, we didn’t want to push the adoption right away. We wanted to give him time to get used to us and our home. To bond with us. But that never really happened.”
“It wasn’t his fault,” Helen hastened to add. “We didn’t expect it to be easy, not after what he’d been through. We tried so many things—Matthew especially. But I’m afraid we failed him, in the end. We never managed to make him feel…”
“He refused the adoption,” Matthew said bluntly. “When he was thirteen, and again at seventeen. So, we let it be. We just tried to be there for him as foster parents. But we don’t see him much now. We’re very proud, though. Very proud of how well he’s done.”
“He’s come such a long way,” Helen said. “He had a lot of trouble in school. Some terrible incidents…I’m so relieved how it all worked out for him.”
“What kind of incidents?” Black asked.
He could see that Helen regretted mentioning it.
“Oh, just schoolyard things. Some unfortunate conflicts that escalated to—”
Her husband interrupted her. “That was a long time ago,” he said.
“Yes,” Helen agreed. “It was no wonder—after what he’d been through—that he’d lash out at times. But he’s doing very well now.”
“This is all a long way of saying that we know almost nothing about Tom’s mother, or what his life was like before he came to us,” Matthew said. “He never talked to us about Gemma. He never told us anything about people they knew before. No one ever reached out to us to visit him, no old friends or colleagues.”
“Except that one woman,” Helen interjected. “The one who had worked with Gemma.”
“Pamela…Pamela…” Matthew seemed to be searching for her full name.
“Harris?” Black supplied.
“That’s right. She did call us to ask about Tom. But he didn’t want to see her. I got the feeling Tom and his mother were quite isolated,” Matthew said. “She was a single mother, estranged from her family.”
“Yes, Tom’s grandparents seemed like awful people,” Helen said with a shudder. “We called them a few times, thinking they’d at least like to send a card for his birthday, but they hung up on us.”
“It was strange, though,” Matthew said. “Tom didn’t even have proper school records. They had moved, repeatedly. Which I suppose is normal for a single mother. Hard to find good places to live on short funds. But half the time she didn’t even have him in school.”
“Maybe she couldn’t find childcare for him when she was working,” Helen said.
“Who knows,” Matthew said. “There were a lot of strange things, but Tom was so secretive—”
“It was hard for him to trust us,” Helen said.
“We never learned much,” Matthew said.
“If you do find out anything,” Helen said, “about Tom’s mother, we’d like to know. We always wondered, ourselves. If we could have figured it out at the time, maybe we could have helped him more.”
Matthew Ruger checked his watch.
“I’d better get back,” he said.
“Thank you for your help,” Black said.
He shook hands with the Rugers again and watched them gather up their belongings.
He noticed that neither one of them had taken a bite of the scones or drank any of their coffee.
He sat in the cafe a while longer after they left.
A dark suspicion was growing in his mind.
He couldn’t see the whole shape of it yet, but he felt that if he turned the lens of his view ever so slightly, the elements of the case would suddenly come into focus.
16
Black took a cab over to the Houses of Parliament and went through security once more, his anxiousness making the process seem interminable. Once inside, he hurried to Morris’s office.
No one was inside, except Holly, and she was dashing about, looking hectic.
“Hey!” she said. “I thought you weren’t meeting us until one?”
“I am,” Black said. “I wanted to check if you spoke to Morris about Daniel Clark.”
“I did,” Holly said, looking unhappy. “He’s not convinced. He says we don’t have any proof.”
“Is Clark here today?”
“Yes. It makes my skin crawl, sitting next to him. He’s been glaring at me all morning. I’m sure you’re right, Byron. Something’s going on with him.”
Morris came out of his office, carrying a large suitcase. His blue eyes gleamed with anticipation.
“Black!” he said. “You still coming to the summit?”
“Yes,” Black said. “Is Daniel Clark coming?”
“No,” Morris said, “I told him to stay here. He was pretty put-out about it, but I thought that was a reasonable compromise.”
“I think you should fire him,” Black said flatly.
“Look,” Morris said, “I’m very grateful for everything you’ve been doing for us, but I’ve worked with Daniel for four years. I don’t think the fact that you two got into a dust-up at a pub over the weekend means he’s up to something nefarious.”
Black flushed.
“It’s not just your own safety that your risking,” he said.
“Holly’s a big girl,” Morris said. “She can come or not this afternoon—it’s her choice. Got to get going, I’ve got a meeting with the Lord Chancellor.”
Morris hurried out, leaving Black and Holly looking awkwardly at one another.
“I do need to go to the summit,” Holly said.
“I know,” Black said.
She went up on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek.
“You’ll be there to keep me safe,” she said.
But Black knew how impossible that might be, despite everything he could do.
Black followed her out, and they parted ways at the end of the corridor. He paused just a moment, because he felt the buzz of a phone notification in his pocket. It was a message from Marina Schneider Lopez. She’d responded at last.
Her message was brief:
Yes, I can meet you, it said.
She’d included her phone number.
Black called it at once.
“Hello?” a female voice said, sounding slightly out of breath.
“Is this Marina?” Black asked.
“Yes, who’s this?”
“It’s Byron Black. I messaged you, on Facebook. I was wondering if I could come meet with you. I have a few questions about an old acquaintance of yours, Gemma Morris.”
“Uh, I’m not sure….”
“Please, it’s very important. And rather urgent.”
“I’m at work at the moment. But if you can meet
me in an hour, I have a break over lunch.”
“Where are you?”
Black copied the address into his phone.
“See you in an hour,” he said.
As he hung up, he saw a stooped figure at the end of the hallway: Daniel Clark.
Clark was hurrying down the hall, headed crossways from Black.
Black chased after him.
Clark was wearing an overcoat indoors, his hands stuffed into his pockets.
“Clark,” Black said, catching up with him and grabbing his shoulder.
Clark startled at his touch and wheeled around, looking frantic. His hands came out of his pockets. Black saw that the backs of his hands were covered in a thick, splotchy rash. They were so red and swollen that it looked like he couldn’t quite close his fingers.
His face filled with rage at the sight of Black.
“You stay away from me,” he hissed, “or I’ll call security.”
“You’re going to call security on me?” Black scoffed.
“That’s right.”
“I know what you’re up to,” Black said. “You’re not getting within a mile of that summit today.”
Clark scowled.
“I’m not going to the summit,” he said. “Morris told me to stay here.”
“I know you were talking about him last night, with your friends,” Black said.
“You’re an idiot,” Clark said coldly. He turned on his heel and walked away, stuffing his hands back into the pockets of his coat.
Black stared after him.
Clark was right, he was an idiot. Because he simply couldn’t find the thread that would pull this madness all together.
17
When Black plugged Marina’s address into his phone, he saw that it was a primary school in Belgravia.
After a single stop on the Tube, and a walk of a half-dozen blocks, he found himself outside a pretty little red-brick schoolhouse, with numerous shrieking children running all over the yard, kicking balls, pushing each other on the swings, and clambering across the play equipment.
Black had to sign in with the office, where the receptionist directed him to Mrs. Schneider-Lopez’s room.
