"What, that damned interview?"
"I guess; I didn't see it. They claim you're agents, working for France."
"For France?We've never even beenthere."
"Well, you can stay at home and talk it over with them, or you can be missing. That's what I'd advise. It's not like the cube; these guys are a law unto themselves."
"So I've heard. How long do we have?"
"Maybe until dark. I'd leave as soon as possible. Do you have cash?"
"A little."
"What I'd do ... take a cab down to Oaks and max out the ATM, then get on the first train to Archer. From there you can use cash to get anywhere, short trips. Go to Canada or Mexico, someplace you don't need a passport."
"But she didn't break any law."
"All I know is that the FBI is after her. I think they can find a law."
"Jesus. When it rains, it pours."
"Don't worry about the rain. Just move as fast as you can."
Norman had to smile. How long did you have to live in a country before you picked up the catchphrases? "Okay. If Rory agrees, we'll be out long before dark."
"If she doesn't agree, you leave by yourself, okay? All this shit in Washington."
"Sure. I'll get packing. Buenas." Qabil said good-bye and Norman turned off the phone. Of course he wouldn't really leave Rory behind. Both or neither of them would go to Washington. To be buried. In shit? He wondered what Qabil meant by that.
He'd pack for both of them, though. He set out two bags, small enough for carry-on, on the bed, and neatly stacked warm-weather clothing in each. He assumed Rory would rather go to Mexico, for the winter, than Canada. Besides, she didn't speak Canadian.
With both of them packed, he carefully lifted out the contents of Rory's bag. Let her check through and make changes.
She should be here by now, he thought. He went to the phone and punched RR, Rory roving.
" Buenas?" No picture, of course.
"Where are you, darling?"
"In a cab. Home in two minutes. Where did you think I'd be?"
"Just making sure."
"How are you taking it?"
"Um ... not on the phone. Talk to you in two minutes." He pushed the "off" button and rummaged through the drawer under the phone for a joint. It was old and dry. He found a match and lit it. Took one puff and stabbed it out in the sink. Wrong direction. He poured a glass of port and sipped it, waiting, thinking.
This might not have anything to do with the interview. The FBI might have linked him and Rory to whatever that superweapon was, that may or may not have been an invention of Pepe's.
The doorknob rattled and Rory knocked. Of course her thumb-print didn't unlock it unless the house was on. He went down the hall and opened the door.
Aurora
"What, is the house off?"
Norm held the door open and shut it behind her. "Yeah. The shit has hit."
She nodded. "I know. Goddamn governor on top of everything else. But why the house?"
"The governor?"
"Yeah. Why's the house off?"
"The FBI. What did the governor do?"
Rory rubbed her wet hair with both hands. "The governor got me fired, you know that? Did he call the FBI?"
"Fired?"
"You didn't know." Norman opened both hands and made a noise. "The governor leaned on Mai because of an interview I did this morning. So I'm on sabbatical. What does the FBI have to do with it?"
They were in the breakfast nook. "Sit down. Let me get you something to drink."
She sat down. "Just water. What's the FBI? The assassination?"
"Somebody got assassinated?"
She kneaded her forehead. "Of course. Why would you know? The president and all her cabinet, killed in a bomb blast. The vice-president, too."
"My God. Bombed! Was it France?"
"No. Grayson Pauling carried a briefcase full of explosive into a cabinet meeting. Suicide-murder."
"Pauling."
"He was serious about changing the agenda. Lunatic, martyr, I don't have it sorted out. What about the FBI now?"
He got a bottle of water out of the refrigerator. "Qabil called."
"Oh, good. That's all we need."
"No. That's not it. He found out, as a cop, down at the station, he heard the FBI is coming to get you. Take you to Washington."
"Oh, shit." She took the water but didn't drink. "They can't do that. I didn't break any law."
Norm sat across from her with a small glass of wine. "I don't know. Maybe we could talk our way out of it. What Qabil said is they think we're agents for France—"
"We've never beento France!"
" Verdad. I think they know that. It's just an excuse."
"Was it before or after the assassination?"
"Just now. I think Qabil assumed I knew about the president dying."
She shook her head. "State of emergency, I guess. But do you really think they can just call us spies and lock us up?"
"I don't know. That's what Qabil thinks. And he's sort of in their line of work."
"Oh, hell. Double hell." She slid the water bottle back and forth in a small arc. "Is that port you're drinking?"
"Get you some?"
"Ah, no." She threw out the water and went to the refrigerator and squeezed herself a tumblerful of the plonk. "So what does your boyfriend recommend that we do?"
"He's not my boyfriend. He's just looking out for us."
"I'm sorry." She sat down and leaned into her hands; her voice was muffled. "It's been such a day."
"And it's just begun."
She sipped the wine. "Qabil said?"
"He said we should disappear. Before night. Stay on local transport so we can pay cash, and make our way to a country that doesn't need a passport."
"Canada, Mexico, the Caribbean?"
"You'll do it?"
"I'd like about thirty seconds to think about it."
"Go ahead. I'm going to pack some music cubes."
"Packing? You'd leave without me?"
"Of course not. I just want to be ready if you decide to go. I can hear the hounds yapping." He found a cheap plastic box that held a hundred cubes, and started at the beginning, Antonini.
"Oh, hell. Put some jazz in there for me." She stood up. "I'll pack some clothes."
"I already put out a few things. Warm weather?"
"Yeah. Canada doesn't really appeal."
He heard her opening and closing drawers, slamming them. "How about Mexico?"
"Cuba's closer," she said. "Some stuff I wanted to check there, too."
He pulled a couple of handfuls of cubes from her jazz collection, totally random. "Cuba it is." They would have to avoid the Orlando-Miami monorail, unfortunately; that was ticketed like a plane. Have to zigzag their way down.
He took the cube box and a small player into the bedroom and put them in his bag. Rory was almost packed, rattling around in the bathroom. "You have the sunscreen?" she said.
"Both kinds, yeah. Though I guess we could buy it in Cuba."
Rory came out with a plastic bag of toiletries, put it in the travel bag, and zipped it closed. "So. You ready?"
"Yes." He held out a hand. "I'll take your bag.
"I can—"
"On my bicycle. We can't risk a cab."