“And yet, here I am. Awake. I was a little bored earlier, so falling asleep was a nice change. But since you’ve decided I don’t deserve to get any rest, I’m afraid you’ll just have to stay and keep me company for a little while.” Her boldness came as a surprise even to her. Maybe she had a switch that she could turn on, just like him.
Kilmer sat down in the armchair. She was slightly disappointed that he didn’t join her on the couch. Then again, that might have been a bit of a turnoff.
“Okay, Agent Silla. What would you like to talk about?”
“How about we start with why you came here. I thought you were supposed to be resting.”
“I couldn’t sleep. So, I had a choice between talking to myself and talking to you. Talking with you seemed much more interesting—and I thought I might learn something that’s worth knowing.”
“Do you have more questions about the extra-terrestrials?”
“Yes. And… well, you know a lot about me, and I know almost nothing about you. Seems a bit unfair.”
Silla thought she might be blushing and was suddenly glad for the darkness in the room.
“Then we might have a problem,” she said. “I don’t talk about myself to people who call me Agent Silla. My name is Renata. Almost everyone calls me Ren.”
“And if I wanted to distinguish myself from all the rest?” Kilmer asked. “Silla is a beautiful name. Does anyone call you Silla?”
Silla was taken aback. Only one person had ever called her that—her grandfather. When she was a little girl, she was closer to him than to anyone. He always called her Silla—and sometimes Silly Silla, but she wasn’t about to reveal that. He passed away when she was eleven, and no one had called her Silla since.
“Professor Kilmer, you would be in perfect company if you chose to call me Silla. I won’t mind it at all. Does that make you Kilmer? Or do you enjoy being called Professor?”
“I could afford to hear it less often. Kilmer will do just fine.”
“Just fine?”
“More than fine. In fact, if you ever go back to calling me Professor, I’ll take it to mean that you’ve entirely given up on us.”
“On… us? Is that suddenly a thing?” she asked casually.
“Well, here we are making all this progress. I’d hate to have to start all over. You know, it wasn’t easy to walk all this way to come see you.”
Silla could relate perfectly well to that sentiment, but she wasn’t about to let on. “You must not walk very much, Kilmer. You were only about thirty feet away.”
“Seemed much farther.”
Kilmer’s eyes hadn’t adjusted completely to the darkness, but enough to catch her smile.
“Well,” she said. “Now what?”
“Now we get to know each other.”
She looked at her watch. “It’s four in the morning, Kilmer. And you have a meeting at eight. How much can you possibly get to know me?”
Kilmer leaned just a little closer and looked into her eyes.
“Silla?” he said softly.
“Yes?” she whispered back.
“We have time.”
They looked at each other in silence, neither of them wanting to disrupt the moment.
“Do we?” she finally asked.
“I’m sure of it.”
“And what if the world ends tomorrow?”
Kilmer smiled. He reached for her hand and risked taking it in his. She could feel the butterflies in her stomach as she wrapped her fingers around his, but only very lightly. Just enough to let him know the risk had been worth it.
“We won’t let it,” he said.
“You can promise me that?”
Kilmer smiled. “I think I’m supposed to say yes to that. But I don’t think I can.”
Silla laughed. “Well, you’re not much of a hero then. A hero would have promised me the Moon and the stars. You can’t even promise me the Earth.”
“I don’t claim to be a hero. But I’m no villain either. I won’t make promises that I’m not sure I can keep. As for saving the world, all I can promise you is that I would die trying—if that’s what it came down to.” He paused. “But it would be a real shame if it came to that. All that effort and I don’t even get to see you afterwards.”
Something in the way he said it… it wasn’t just a good line.
She looked into his eyes. “Okay, Kilmer, I’m game. Let’s chat a while longer. But on two conditions.”
“And what might those conditions be?”
“First, I get to learn about you at least as much as you learn about me.”
“Is that like a CIA special agent thing? Not wanting to give someone an information advantage over you?”
“Uh, no Kilmer. It’s a decent human being thing. Not wanting to be so self-absorbed as to only talk about myself. Are you familiar with the notion?” She went from just holding his hand to interlocking her fingers with his.
He laughed. “Okay, I agree to your first condition. What’s the second?”
“You have to come sit next to me.”
Kilmer kept her hand in his as he moved to the couch—sitting close, but not too close. She turned ever so slightly toward him, as though she hadn’t really meant to reduce the distance between them by doing so.
“I hope you won’t read too much into the invitation to sit next to me,” she said sternly.
“Don’t worry, I won’t. I don’t really like to brag, Silla, but I’m sort of the world’s expert on not making dangerous assumptions.”
She laughed.
“So why am I really here?” he asked.
“I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable. We have a lot to talk about.”
She moved closer—again, almost imperceptibly.
“After all, you’ve convinced me… We have time.”
~ 33 ~
Kilmer and Silla talked for almost three hours, without interruption, except for the one time when Silla needed to check a text message. The early morning brought daylight into the room, but they barely noticed. At some point—neither of them would have been able to explain precisely when or how—they had managed to eliminate the distance between them almost entirely. Kilmer’s arms were now wrapped around her, and she was leaning back and snuggling into him. His chin rested lightly on her shoulder, which caused their cheeks to brush against each other at times—he had to resist the urge to kiss her whenever she turned and locked eyes with him. He held her close, his hands resting on her stomach, and he wondered how hard someone had to work to have abs like that. Her hands rested on top of his, and she occasionally doodled on them with her fingertips while they chatted.
They talked about everything they could think of, but without rushing through any of it. Silla felt herself come close to tears once—when she talked about losing her father—and she noticed that Kilmer held her just a bit more tightly then. She told him how hard her father worked to make sure her birthdays were special, how he always sat with her late into the night while she did her homework, even though he couldn’t help her with any of it, and how he made her promise that she would never think ill of her mother, even though she had abandoned them.
Kilmer told her about his parents, his childhood, and what little he remembered about life before the Kilmers. He also told her something he had only ever told one other person. Eight years ago, in Central Africa, he had advised the president of Cameroon not to pursue a course of action that they both believed would save lives. Instead, Kilmer proposed an alternative strategy that, although costly in the short run, would ultimately protect many more. It was an opportunity to save a far greater number of people, but it was still not an easy decision to make. A lot of innocent people died in the weeks that followed—men, women, and children who would have lived if not for Kilmer’s advice. But that wasn’t nearly the worst of it. A few months later, when it came time to follow through on the rest of Kilmer’s strategy, national elections were just around the corner, and the president was no longer in a position to take
the political risks necessary to implement the rest of the plan. Kilmer pleaded with him, but to no avail. They had sacrificed all those lives for nothing.
“I screwed up,” Kilmer told Silla. “I should have been able to see it—how things would play out, I mean. Seems obvious now—but even back then, I should have known enough not to make such a terrible mistake. After that happened… I didn’t advise anyone for almost two years. I just wasn’t willing to offer advice unless I was sure it was the right call. I know there’s no such thing as being sure, but it took a long time to be okay with that again—to even trust my own judgment. It still doesn’t change what I did. I know that. And I’m not religious, Silla, but for this… for the people who died… I still pray for forgiveness. It never leaves me—the guilt of it. I can’t rationalize it away, no matter how hard I try. I know it’s selfish to even try to rationalize something like that away. I know that. But I still try.”
Silla had taken his hands in hers. “Making a call like that takes courage, Kilmer. And it only hurts if you have a good heart. I know it’s not my place to say this, but I think your mom would be proud of you. You’re using your gifts—just like she wanted you to. I think she would be glad that you didn’t stop trying to help after that.”
Kilmer couldn’t remember ever having been so unguarded, but something about Silla made sharing even his most intimate thoughts feel entirely natural. She challenged him, but she didn’t judge. She was inquisitive, but not presumptuous. She was a stranger, but only in name—she already knew him better than most people did. Nielsen was the only other person whom Kilmer had told about the Cameroon incident. When the vice president invited him to advise during the Gulf of Aden crisis, Kilmer thought he had a right to know what had happened. But telling Silla was altogether different. It wasn’t out of a sense of obligation. It was in search of solace.
The daylight had been dropping hints for a while, but it was already 6:50 by the time Kilmer finally glanced at his watch. “I think you’re going to have to leave soon,” he revealed reluctantly. “It’s almost seven.”
“You’re kicking me off my own couch?” she joked.
“No, I’m pretty sure Agent Liu is the one responsible for doing that. Is he going to meet me here or downstairs?”
“You seem very eager to meet Agent Liu. Should I be jealous?”
“I just don’t want you to get in trouble if he walks in here.”
“Kilmer, I have something to tell you… Agent Liu isn’t coming. I texted him a few hours ago to tell him that since I need to be at the White House for a 9 a.m. meeting anyway, I’ll take you to your meeting at eight. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but you’re stuck with me.”
Kilmer moved Silla’s hair to the side so he could get a better look at her. “Are you serious?”
“Yup.”
“So, what you’re saying is…”
She smiled. “We have time.”
Kilmer considered it for a moment. “Now, if my calculations are correct, you must have texted Agent Liu about this even before I came into the room. Which means you’d already decided that you wanted to be here when I woke up.”
Silla bit her lower lip and smiled, all but admitting she’d been found out.
“I must say, this seems highly unprofessional,” Kilmer complained, trying his best to sound indignant.
“Are you going to turn me in?”
“I’m not sure what choice I have—unless there was a legitimate reason for you to stay longer.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Kilmer. Of course there was a legitimate reason.”
“Let’s hear it then. I’m listening.”
“That’s your problem, Kilmer. Always listening for one clue or another. Just stop listening for a moment—you’ll be surprised by how much you learn.”
Then she turned toward him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him—for a very long time.
~ 34 ~
~ Interlude: A different time ~
Kilmer looked across the field. The two soldiers who had stormed into the kill-zone were now on the ground, bleeding. Possibly dead. He looked farther out in the direction of the perimeter. Secretary Strauss and General Allen were both shouting orders. The soldiers around them were struggling to figure out which orders to follow. Perez was yelling into a phone, almost certainly talking to Whitman on the other end, trying to explain how all hell had suddenly broken loose.
Then he saw Silla—and his heart broke into a thousand pieces. He lowered the gun, now pointing it towards the ground. She had pushed her way through the crowd of soldiers and was shouting something in his direction. She was furious—and he could make out the tears on her face. He couldn’t hear any of the words she was saying, but he was terrified. A soldier tried to grab Silla, but she pushed him off and the man stumbled backward. She was squarely in the kill-zone now and walking toward where the soldiers had fallen. He screamed for her to stop. She didn’t hear him. Or she didn’t care.
And then, suddenly, Lane emerged from the crowd and raced toward her. Thank God, Lane. He caught up to her and tackled her to the ground before she could move any further into the kill-zone. She screamed and punched at him, but he wouldn’t let her go.
The sound behind Kilmer grew louder. It was almost deafening.
He knew that Silla would never forgive him. Never.
But—hopefully—she would understand.
Silla stopped trying to fight off Lane and turned toward Kilmer. He saw the look on her face. It was the look of someone who had experienced the ultimate betrayal. Someone who would never understand.
I love you, he whispered. He knew she might only be able to make out the movement of his lips.
We have time, Silla whispered back. We do, she pleaded. Please, Kilmer!
His eyes welled up.
He would never forgive himself either—but he wasn’t about to break his promise to her.
He wasn’t about to let the world come to an end when there was still a chance.
I’m sorry.
He dropped the gun.
There was a bright flash of light.
And then everything went black.
~ End of interlude ~
Part III
the strategist
~ 35 ~
Day 15. 7:45 a.m.
Kilmer and Silla entered the room fifteen minutes before the meeting was scheduled to start, the physical distance between them calibrated to be the absolute minimum acceptable by professional standards. A few others were already seated, and Silla made some introductions, including with CIA Director Druckman.
“I’ll be honest, it always makes me a little nervous when a teacher walks into the room,” Druckman joked. “I sure hope you grade on a curve.”
Kilmer smiled respectfully. “Don’t worry, sir. The person who knows the least about the subject doesn’t get to do the grading.”
Kilmer and Silla dropped their phones in the metal box and made their way to the two seats that were placed against the wall opposite the door. As they sat down, Secretary Strauss walked in. He was on a call, so Kilmer decided against introducing himself. If Strauss noticed his presence, he didn’t show it.
Kilmer turned to Silla and whispered, “Do you think I should have worn a tie?”
“I don’t think your attire is what people around here are worried about right now,” she whispered back.
Kilmer nodded.
“But to answer your question: yes, you should have worn a tie. Who walks around thinking they don’t need to wear a tie when they meet the president of the United States?”
Kilmer frowned as Silla stifled a chuckle.
The last to arrive were VP Nielsen, National Security Advisor Garcia, General Allen, and… Trina Morgan?
Nielsen left the group and made his way around the table, eventually reaching Kilmer and shaking his hand. “Glad you’re here, Professor.” Then he turned to Silla. “And nice to see you again as well—”
“Agent Silla,” she said before Niel
sen had a chance to stumble on her name.
“Yes, Agent Silla. I believe you’ll be at my nine o’clock with Art. Is that right?”
“That’s correct, Mr. Vice President.”
“Good. I look forward to the update.” Nielsen turned to face Kilmer again. “The president would like you to meet us in the Oval Office at 9:30. Joana will meet you here when this meeting ends; she’ll handle the logistics. Does that work?”
“Sounds good.”
Nielsen continued his journey around the table, shaking hands and making small talk.
Kilmer turned to Silla. “Wow. Another invitation from the president. I’m starting to think she doesn’t really care whether I wear a tie.”
Silla rolled her eyes.
Trina Morgan saw Kilmer and waved. When she came over, she greeted Silla warmly—they apparently knew each other—and then shook Kilmer’s hand. “Professor! Ms. Garcia said you’d be here. So good to see you.”
“How have you been, Trina?
“Quite well. Except, of course, for what’s happening right now.”
Someone walked toward them as if to say hello, but it turned out he only wanted to close the blinds on the window next to Kilmer. Trina, meanwhile, handed Kilmer a sheet of paper with her cell number. “Please reach out if you have time.”
“I look forward to catching up.”
Trina walked away and Kilmer put the number in his pocket. He looked over at Silla as they waited for the meeting to start. She caught him staring from the corner of her eye.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he whispered. “I was just… admiring, I suppose.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not the work President Whitman invited you here to do,” she said without looking his way. “If I’m going to be a distraction, I can get Agent Liu to take my place.”
“Don’t worry, Silla. When the action starts, nothing in the world can distract me.”
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