Read Online Ark by Charles McCarry - Free Book Online

takeout I was used to. The river I saw through those huge windows was the wrong river. The apartment, the neighborhood, were deathly quiet. Everyone was all dressed up. I had woken up in hell.
     
    Henry didn’t answer my note. He could be anywhere, doing anything. The media gave me many reasons to think about him: An ice shelf the size of Connecticut broke loose from Antarctica, carrying thousands of penguins and seals out to sea. The North Pole inched ever closer to Siberia. The magnetic field continued to fluctuate. Migrating birds appeared in countries where their species had never before been seen, and vanished from destinations where they had been arriving on schedule since the Stone Age. Still no one saw a pattern.
     
    By the time Henry called, at the end of a week, I had accepted that he would never find me, that I would never hear from him again. I told him I had moved, as he had suggested. I told him why.
     
    I told him my new name.
     
    “I’ll be right there,” he said. “What’s the address?”
     
    When he arrived, minutes later, he looked around, taking it all in, object by object—the furniture whose minimalism made it all the more showy, the gaudy faux Jackson Pollock carpets —carpets !— the imitation Warhol silkscreen of Marilyn Monroe as a sheet of postage stamps, the trompe l’oeil that looked like a framed sofa cushion until you saw that it was really a zebra. I won’t go on.
     
    “Wow,” Henry said. “No wonder you changed your name.”
     
    Now he was being funny? I didn’t reply.
     
    He said, “It’s not possible that you just forgot to lock the door?”
     
    “Never in a million years.”
     
    He said, “OK, then somebody is trying to scare you.”
     
    “They’ve succeeded.”
     
    He looked around again. “Beyond their wildest dreams,” he said. “Pack a bag. You can’t live here and think at the same time, and I need your brain.”
     
    I didn’t argue. Fifteen minutes later we were headed for the airport. For a change he told me where we were going. We stopped at my old place while I picked up clothes suitable for Hsi-tau, our destination. The driver collected the computer Henry had given me and lugged it down to the car. Everything was as shabby and jumbled as usual, but nothing was the same. The atmosphere had been disturbed. An invisible presence had moved in and it had no intention of ever leaving.
     
    I could feel it.
     
    ~ * ~
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    TWO
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    ~ * ~
     
     
     
     
    1
     
     
     
     
    WE ARRIVED IN HSI-TAU AT dusk. After dinner in the big yurt Henry amazed me by asking if I played chess. I did, sort of. I won the Camp Wingenund grand championship when I was twelve, and five years later made it to the semifinals of a high school tournament. In the here and now, I sometimes played a few games online, though I almost always lost because I overstated my skill level. That night, versus Henry, I played far beyond my abilities, and actually won one game out of three. If he let me have that victory (how else to explain it?), I didn’t catch him at it.
     
    Outside, after the chess, a grit-filled wind blew. The beam of my flashlight reflected from the swirling dust as from a snowstorm. The chow dog that had assigned itself to me walked me back to my yurt. Its presence made me feel absolutely safe. Not only was my protector on duty, but the rest of the pack roamed the howling darkness, ready to attack any intruder at a moment’s notice. Inside my little yurt, America awaited—air-conditioning, satellite television and radio, a refrigerator full of wine, springwater and fruit and healthful snacks, clean sheets on a king-size bed, hot water. I showered and got into the bed and fell asleep. I was safe here on the far edge of China, with my attack dog curled up on the doorstep.
     
    As the sun rose, the chow and I walked together to the big yurt. I was finishing my coffee when Henry appeared.