answered.
Garrett laughed. “I’m getting predictable.” He pulled off his shirt in front of her. She walked out of the bedroom and closed the door, but he nudged it back open so she could hear him. And see him. He wanted her to see him naked. Anything to make her uncomfortable. He pulled off his pants as well.
“Why didn’t the Homeland guys ask me about the bomb?”
“I don’t know,” Alexis said, studiously avoiding looking at the open door. “Look. We’re going to a dinner tonight. There will be important people there. People who are responsible for the future of this country.”
“I mean, I was a witness. And maybe even the target. It’s got to be the biggest news story in the country right now. That’s just weird.”
“If you could simply listen to what they have to say to you, that would be much appreciated. What they have to say is far more important than the bombing.”
“More important than whether I live or die?”
“Considerably more important than that.”
“To me, whether I live or die is surprisingly important.”
“I’m sure it is,” Alexis countered with undisguised disdain.
Garrett shoved the bedroom door closed and took a shower. When he came out, Alexis was gone and the front door was locked from the outside. He kicked the door once, and was pretty sure he could bust open its thin plywood frame with a little more effort, but he decided against it—what was the point? He didn’t have anywhere particular to go. He looked for a TV in the condo, but there was none, so he checked the news feed on his cell phone. CNN and The New York Times were reporting it as a terror attack, a car bomb, with multiple injuries but no fatalities; no group or person had claimed responsibility, and the city authorities had no suspects. Garrett was not mentioned in any of the news stories, but on thinking about this, he didn’t see why he would be. No one knew he had been downstairs or anywhere near the explosion. But then he realized that Avery Bernstein hadn’t called him. No one from Jenkins & Altshuler had, which was strange, given that he had essentially become a missing person. Perhaps Alexis Truffant had called his boss? She seemed like the type—no loose ends.
He called Avery’s office, but it went right to voice mail. They were closed for the day. He didn’t really have anything to tell Avery, except maybe that he was okay, had survived the bombing, but something told him that Avery already knew this. Avery was more connected to this whole thing than Garrett had realized. He was the nexus from which all subsequent actions had radiated out. Avery, Garrett decided, was up to speed.
Next he called Mitty Rodriguez, but she didn’t answer either. He left her a message, in case she was worried, but Garrett doubted she was; she was probably deep in the bowels of an online game and hadn’t even noticed the bombing. Mitty often gamed for days on end without coming up for air. Or for news of the world. It was understood that either of them could disappear for long stretches of time and the other wouldn’t freak out.
Alexis returned at six-thirty, as the sun was setting over eastern Virginia. She knocked on the condo door, unlocked it, and let herself in. Garrett did a double take as she stood there in the foyer in a short black dress and sheer nylons, with her hair flowing down around her shoulders and her lips bright red with lipstick. She looked stunning.
“We must be meeting some really, really important people,” Garrett said, nodding to her. “Because you look fantastic.”
“We are. And thank you for the compliment.”
Garrett followed her down the steps of the condo and into a waiting unmarkedFord. A uniformed Air Force lieutenant drove, and Alexis and Garrett sat in back. Garrett felt a little like he was going to his high school prom—which he had not gone to, opting instead to get stoned on the beach and night-surf—and enjoyed the sensation. At least his prom date was
Garrett laughed. “I’m getting predictable.” He pulled off his shirt in front of her. She walked out of the bedroom and closed the door, but he nudged it back open so she could hear him. And see him. He wanted her to see him naked. Anything to make her uncomfortable. He pulled off his pants as well.
“Why didn’t the Homeland guys ask me about the bomb?”
“I don’t know,” Alexis said, studiously avoiding looking at the open door. “Look. We’re going to a dinner tonight. There will be important people there. People who are responsible for the future of this country.”
“I mean, I was a witness. And maybe even the target. It’s got to be the biggest news story in the country right now. That’s just weird.”
“If you could simply listen to what they have to say to you, that would be much appreciated. What they have to say is far more important than the bombing.”
“More important than whether I live or die?”
“Considerably more important than that.”
“To me, whether I live or die is surprisingly important.”
“I’m sure it is,” Alexis countered with undisguised disdain.
Garrett shoved the bedroom door closed and took a shower. When he came out, Alexis was gone and the front door was locked from the outside. He kicked the door once, and was pretty sure he could bust open its thin plywood frame with a little more effort, but he decided against it—what was the point? He didn’t have anywhere particular to go. He looked for a TV in the condo, but there was none, so he checked the news feed on his cell phone. CNN and The New York Times were reporting it as a terror attack, a car bomb, with multiple injuries but no fatalities; no group or person had claimed responsibility, and the city authorities had no suspects. Garrett was not mentioned in any of the news stories, but on thinking about this, he didn’t see why he would be. No one knew he had been downstairs or anywhere near the explosion. But then he realized that Avery Bernstein hadn’t called him. No one from Jenkins & Altshuler had, which was strange, given that he had essentially become a missing person. Perhaps Alexis Truffant had called his boss? She seemed like the type—no loose ends.
He called Avery’s office, but it went right to voice mail. They were closed for the day. He didn’t really have anything to tell Avery, except maybe that he was okay, had survived the bombing, but something told him that Avery already knew this. Avery was more connected to this whole thing than Garrett had realized. He was the nexus from which all subsequent actions had radiated out. Avery, Garrett decided, was up to speed.
Next he called Mitty Rodriguez, but she didn’t answer either. He left her a message, in case she was worried, but Garrett doubted she was; she was probably deep in the bowels of an online game and hadn’t even noticed the bombing. Mitty often gamed for days on end without coming up for air. Or for news of the world. It was understood that either of them could disappear for long stretches of time and the other wouldn’t freak out.
Alexis returned at six-thirty, as the sun was setting over eastern Virginia. She knocked on the condo door, unlocked it, and let herself in. Garrett did a double take as she stood there in the foyer in a short black dress and sheer nylons, with her hair flowing down around her shoulders and her lips bright red with lipstick. She looked stunning.
“We must be meeting some really, really important people,” Garrett said, nodding to her. “Because you look fantastic.”
“We are. And thank you for the compliment.”
Garrett followed her down the steps of the condo and into a waiting unmarkedFord. A uniformed Air Force lieutenant drove, and Alexis and Garrett sat in back. Garrett felt a little like he was going to his high school prom—which he had not gone to, opting instead to get stoned on the beach and night-surf—and enjoyed the sensation. At least his prom date was
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