“Don’t worry,” I said as nonchalantly as I could (which was considerably less nonchalantly than I’d hoped). “I just had to drop something off.”
She looked around. “Did you talk to Drew?”
“Again, don’t worry. I have nothing to tell him. What happened in Mongolia stays in Mongolia.” She started to speak, but I didn’t want to hear it. “Besides, I’m just fulfilling my promise to you.” I handed her the envelope I had brought with me and turned and walked away.
“You are an arrogant idiot,” she shouted after me, but I didn’t give her the satisfaction of turning around. Mostly because she was right about the idiot part. I didn’t need anyone to remind me of that.
“Quit running away from your problems and talk to me, dammit!” Ronnie shouted.
I turned and stormed back to her. “You are not my problem. I am my problem. The fact that I fell in love with you on the steppes of Mongolia is my problem. But you don’t love me. You told me that last time I was here.”
“I never said I didn’t love you,” she said quietly.
“You said you loved Drew. That was enough.” I left out the other complications, mainly that she would never fit into my world and her mere existence would constantly remind me of my faults. I could never tell her that.
“Why do you want to walk away?” she asked.
“I don’t want to. I don’t like walking away. I just feel that this is what is best for both of us.” What is best for me. “I want you, and I can’t have you.”
“What…what does that mean?” Ronnie’s voice quavered, cutting me to the quick.
“Trust me, Ronnie. Pigeonholing me is just the tip of the iceberg. You don’t want to know about what’s beneath the water.” Ooh. That was good. A Titanic reference. Was that the best I could do?
“You are saying I don’t want to know who you really are?”
I shook my head. “I’m saying I don’t want you to know who I really am.” With that, I turned and headed for the car.
Good-bye, Veronica Gale. And that would be the last time I would ever let my heart get in the way of my dignity.
I was mildly surprised as I drove away that she didn’t run after me. What did I expect? That she’d throw herself at my feet and beg my forgiveness? That clearly wasn’t going to happen. I must admit I did check the rearview mirror. She looked pissed. Her arms were folded over her chest and her face was red. That was a little bit satisfying.
Within twenty-four hours, I was back in my motor home, driving aimlessly around the state of Ohio. Why? I don’t know. It just seemed like a good idea at the time. Sartre had mellowed somewhat after her international adventures. I took in a movie now and then and had dinner wherever I stopped for the night. I was getting my groove back by burying the memories of betrayal.
Ronnie didn’t e-mail me. Not that I expected her to after what I’d dropped off. I’m sure she was not happy to find a complete file on the wrongdoings of one Senator William Anderson. Oh, yes, the sexual liaisons were just a small part of what that man had done wrong. I gave her a two-inch-thick file folder detailing some pretty shady money-laundering schemes involving the French government and several accounts of bribery in a “pay to play” scam he was running. I was pretty sure she hated me now.
I didn’t feel the need to give her too much information. I wanted an I told you so moment but didn’t want to crush her completely. Oh, and I also looked up Drew. It wasn’t hard to find out who he was. Not that I would do anything with the information.
Turned out Drew was Drew Connery, a Rhodes scholar and former campaign manager for the Johnson County Democrats. He ran a Web site on the conspiracy theories behind Senator Anderson’s death. Well, great. I hope she shared the information I gave her with him. Let them both stew in their sullenness.
Okay, so I entertained a few fantasies of smashing his face in, strapping him to a space shuttle or feeding him to a pool full of piranha. But I thought there was something to be said for not acting on that.
I went back to Santa Muerta to make sure Dekker was all right. Without consulting anyone, I took him with me off the island. It was a pretty drastic act on my part. But until I could sort things out, I wasn’t quite ready to kill him. And if I didn’t, the council would.
“Why am I here?” Dekker asked as he sat in my favorite chair drinking my favorite scotch.
“Because I don’t want to kill you,” I said as I chopped up a salad for Sartre.
“And why don’t you want to kill me?”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
Dekker chuckled at that. No doubt he found this whole scenario amusing. I’d rigged up an ankle-and-wrist collar system loosely based on the invisible fencing idea for dogs. If he tried to lunge, kick or leave, he’d be shocked senseless.
“Nice place you got here,” he continued. “Like a mobile command base.”
I nodded. “You should see my summer home. It’s a Volkswagen Microbus.”
My guest laughed at that. That was odd-thinking of him as my guest instead of my vic. It was only a matter of time before the council caught on to the fact that I hadn’t cleared my assignment.
Interestingly enough, just as I thought this, my cell phone rang.
“This is Coney,” I answered, hoping it was just my dad calling with the football scores. I didn’t really follow the game, but he didn’t need to know that.
“Coney? It’s your aunt Carolina. Where is Dekker?”
“What? You mean he’s missing?”
“I’ve sent you something.” She hung up before I could respond. Within seconds, a UPS courier knocked on my door.
“Dude, you are hard to find,” the pimply kid said as I signed the release for the package.
“Apparently not,” I replied as I shut the door in his face. Sartre mistook the sound for the fridge door and began wheeking. I tossed her some spinach and sat down to open the envelope I’d been sent.
Son of a bitch.
If I were to look at things philosophically, I would have to say that I am not a paranoid person. I knew the council watched us to an extent, but I didn’t think they knew everything about us. At least, I didn’t before I opened that damned envelope.
There were a lot of things going through my mind as I drove through the night to Iowa. I injected Dekker with a sleeping agent. He let me. Maybe he was tired of all this too. Once the caffeine kicked into overdrive, even stranger thoughts took over. I toyed with the idea of the existence of God. Something larger than me seemed to be at work here. That was the only way to explain how I got a summons from the council asking me to return to Santa Muerta with both Dekker and one Veronica Gale.
Oh, sure, it might have been a coincidence. I’d feel a whole lot better if that were the case. It would be so convenient to believe that. But this all seemed too arranged. After five hours of trying to figure out how it happened, I gave up and pulled into a Wal-Mart parking lot in the Quad Cities to get some sleep.
I reread the file. There was no doubting its intent. I was being ordered to bring these two people before the council. They had a lot of questions. And it was my guess that they wouldn’t let either Ronnie or Arje live through the day. That wasn’t like the council. Well, it was exactly like the old council. But our folks were in charge now, and they were different. At least, they were supposed to be.
I probably don’t need to mention that I didn’t sleep well. I thought about leaving Dekker there and just going myself to the island. I sure as hell didn’t want to involve Ronnie in any of this. But if I left them here, it could be a trap, and someone else from the family might grab them or worse. What a mess. Freud didn’t have dilemmas like this.