“You’re a liar.”
He creased his brow. “Undskyld?” Excuse me?
An office door between Flemming and I swung open. Another doctor stepped out into the hall, his attention fixed on a clipboard he held in his hand. He looked about the same age as Flemming, only he was notably better looking. The kind of look Gran would call debonair if he were an actor in one of our black and white films. His hair was light and slicked back. He had a couple days’ worth of facial hair and a deeply dimpled chin. His light blue pinstripe collar shirt was rumpled under his white doctor’s coat. A red tie hung loose around his neck.
Gesh. I knew it was him immediately.
He glanced up at Flemming, then back to the clipboard, then up at me. “Ah. Nummer Fire.” Number Four, Ivy’s official name. He pulled off the reading glasses he wore. “What are you doing here?” He spoke in thick Danish. His voice was smooth chalk.
The moment I met his eyes, a droplet of panic slithered down my spine. It paused in the small of my back, a dimple of anxiety, then radiated out until it had cocooned my entire body in fear. It was the same fear I felt during my memories of him. The same thing I felt when I saw his portrait at AIDA Headquarters. I struggled to suppress my fear so it wouldn’t show on my face as he studied me, but I don’t think it worked.
He frowned at me. “Kunne jeg have et ord?” Could I have a word?
He didn’t wait for my reply. He disappeared into the room he came from. Porter-Flemming gave me one last puzzled look, then turned and walked away, veering out of sight around a corner at the end of the hall, leaving me all alone with Gesh.
“Nummer Fire,” Gesh barked.
I jumped and scurried to his doorway. Not because I wanted to, but because Ivy’s body seemed conditioned to do whatever he said. It was a small office, no windows, just a desk that almost filled the entire room and several file cabinets along the far wall, each bursting with papers and file folders like a bomb had exploded inside each one. An archaic-looking computer sat on the desk, surrounded by stacks and stacks of papers and books and files. More books and files were stacked on the floor. Gesh sat at the desk, his back to me, entering something into his computer.
“Komme i,” he said. “Luk døren.” Come in. Close the door.
I did as he said, yet again. My past life’s body moved like a robot controlled by remote control. I shut the door and stood with my hands clasped before me, waiting. Sweat pooled in my palms. I knew I should ascend, but I couldn’t leave Ivy alone with him. It was my fault she was in his office to begin with. My fault she’d get in trouble for being in the labs on her day off. I glanced down at the scars on my arms. If he was going to hurt me again, I couldn’t leave Ivy to bear the brunt of the pain.
He hammered out a few more entries into his computer, then swiveled around in his chair to face me. He pulled his glasses off again and tossed them onto a pile of papers. He leaned back in his chair. It squeaked. He tented his fingers. “Fortæl mig, hvordan din test gik i går.” Tell me how your test went yesterday.
I tried to let go and let my instincts respond, but no answer came. So I blurted out the most neutral thing I could think of. “Det kom tilbage positiv.” It came back positive. When he narrowed his eyes, I panicked and quickly added, “Sir.”
His eyes narrowed further.
That was it. I was dead in the water. I had no idea what I was saying. No idea if I would’ve addressed him as sir back then. Would I have said Hr Gesh instead?
Gesh leaned back further in his chair. It squeaked again. “Det er… godt at høre.” That’s… good to hear. He tapped his fingers together, staring me down.
After a few moments, his lips slowly turned up at the edges. The creases around his eyes deepened. He reached out and pressed a button on a chunky-looking desk phone, his eyes still locked on mine. “Argus, kan du komme herind, tak?” Argus, can you come in here, please? He released the button and leaned back in his chair again. The corner of his left eye twitched.
Then, as quick as a snake strikes, Gesh leapt from his chair and rounded the desk toward me. I scrambled backward as he advanced. My back hit the wall and I flattened myself against it. He leaned in close, his hands folded behind his back, staring into my eyes. Almost as if he could see straight through to the Descender inside.
I bolted.
I scrambled for the black like a swimmer thrashing toward the surface. But he caught me. His fingers twined around my ankle. He pulled me back down into the cold, shadowy depths. When I landed and opened my eyes, he was smiling. A full-on smile, baring his teeth.
“Well, now,” he said, his warm coffee breath on my face. “I never suspected this.” He spoke slowly and softly, still in thick Danish, drawing out each word with relish. “Not in a million years did I suspect this. That one of my own would come back to spy on me.”
He gripped my chin between his forefinger and thumb, and forced my head to one side, then to the other, examining me. It made me feel like a thing, a specimen under a microscope. I hated the feeling of his fingertips on my skin.
“Fascinating,” he said, still speaking in Danish. “Your pupils aren’t nearly as dilated as they should be. Number Four would be far more afraid of me than you are right now. She doesn’t like it when I get this close.” He leaned in further so that our noses almost touched. I drew in a sharp breath and turned my face away.
Gesh smiled again.
When he smiled, he resembled his portraits at AIDA in my Base Life. The saintly man who’d saved countless lives. It was a kind, compassionate smile, and it seemed so out of place. Like a lie on his lips.
He let go of my chin, pushing my head away so hard that it smacked against the wall. I made a small whimper in the back of my throat.
“How did you know to come back here if your defects still persist?” Gesh said. “You must be working for someone. Is it Flemming?” He nodded to himself, still smiling. “Yes. It’s Flemming. I did suspect that. I’ve noticed a change in him. I suppose one can only stay loyal for so long.” The corner of his eye twitched again. “I guess you’d know all about disloyalty now, wouldn’t you, Number Four? Now that you’ve turned against me?”
When I didn’t respond, he slapped me. Just like he had in my memory. I doubled over to my side, my hands pressed to my cheek, shocked by the pain of it. Sparks of light blinded me.
“Don’t get me wrong,” he said, pacing, rubbing the sting from his hand. “It’s fascinating that you’re here. I would love to experiment further or chat about what it’s like in the future, but I already know all I need to know, don’t I?” He stepped up to me again, pulling me up to a standing position, pressing my shoulder blades against the wall. “All I need to know is that at some point, you’re going to become an obstacle for me.” His voice caressed my skin like smoke. “So I think I’ll do myself a favor and get rid of that obstacle while I have the chance. Save myself the headache.”
The door to the office opened and Gesh lifted a casual hand to the newcomer, like introducing a dinner guest. “This is Argus. He’ll be taking over from here.” Gesh rubbed his hand again, the one he used to slap me. “I don’t always do the dirty work myself. Sometimes I just like to watch.”
A full-body shiver rippled through me. Argus was an ox compared to Gesh. He was just as big as Mr Pence, my Advanced CADD teacher, but without an ounce of the charm or compassion. Argus’ hungry, bloodshot eyes stared me down. He swiped his bottom lip with his tongue. The fluorescent overhead lights winked off his bald head.
What was Gesh’s henchman going to do to me? Torture me like in 1876? Shatter my bones? Leave me lying in a pool of my own blood? I tried to channel my inner Shooter Delaney, but it was no good. I had no weapons. I was completely and utterly defenseless. And totally screwed.