Read Online Krysalis: Krysalis by John Tranhaile - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John Tranhaile
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situation, “Gerhard,” she said, “I think I’m going to be sick again.”
She ran down to the toilet. Gerhard waited a moment; then he closed the door and, mindful of fingerprints, drew on his gloves.
He sat down and read the file quickly. As he came to the bottom of the last page, he unconsciously allowed Krysalis to fall onto his thigh, feeling like a man who has heard Mozart for the first time, and recognized the voice of God, and known that life has changed.
NATO’s General Situation Plan. A detailed description of where the forces were, in what strengths, able to call on what reserves. Inventories, capacities, lists …
But there was more, much more. The second section of the file told the generals what to do with their lists, if war broke out. It specified targetings for warheads. Counterstrikes. Counterstrikes to counterstrikes. Deployments.
Lescombe was planning the first phase of the next land war in Europe.
And that was not all. The file disclosed a British assessment of America’s attitude toward her supposed allies. Contempt. Mistrust. A deep-rooted feeling that Europe was of scant importance, that its tin-pot armies could be relied on to do only the wrong thing at the wrong time and in the wrong way.
Gerhard now knew why Barzel had been in such a funk.
Footsteps in the passage. By the time Anna opened the door Gerhard had placed Krysalis on top of the desk and was staring out the window.
“Oh, Anna, my Anna …” He gestured dolefully toward the file. “What have you done?”
“But how
could
I have done it? I don’t even know the combination to the safe!”
He thought he might go mad. He could not let this file go, not ever. It represented more than wealth, more than safety; if he could somehow hold on to Krysalis, that meant a new start abroad, new life. Somehow,
anyhow,
he had to neutralize Anna’s half memories.
“The only possible explanation,” he said slowly, “is that it’s in your subconscious. Dreams, voices … does anyone know, suspect, that you might have this?”
“Of course not!” His expression terrified her.
“When will David be coming home? Christ, why didn’t I think of that before—
when?”
She darted a look at her watch. “Soon. Gerhard, I think it might be best if I went away for a while, what do you think?”
He gaped at her. It was so exactly what he wanted her to do, and so much the very opposite of what he’d expected her to say, that for a moment he could only sit in silence. “Perhaps … but it’s a … a little difficultto just, well, run away from something like this,” he temporized.
“Running away is the last thing I mean to do. But listen. I’m a barrister, I’ve done enough cases to know how these things work. People panic, because they talk first and think later. I’ve got a solicitor and tomorrow we’ll call him, I’ll make a statement, but the first, only thing I need is
time!”
“But … but wouldn’t that seem like running? To the police, I mean?”
“You don’t understand. Look at me.”
“Anna, I—”
“No, just look at me.” She laid both palms against his chest. “I’m calm, yes?”
Reluctantly he nodded. There was something terribly wrong with Anna but he couldn’t put his finger on it yet.
“I’m a trained lawyer. You can’t tell me how things appear and don’t appear to the outside world, because I understand better than you do. Now. The first thing to face up to is that David doesn’t know anything about you. He doesn’t realize I’ve been in therapy, or why I went into therapy in the first place or anything about my problems. Right?
Right!”
He nodded again. At last he was beginning to understand. She was scared out of her wits, but determined not to show it. She wanted to run away, she
had
to run away … but first someone, an outsider, must provide her with corroboration of
rational
reasons for flight. Somebody had to give approval.
“Maybe it was a mistake not to tell David,” she
She ran down to the toilet. Gerhard waited a moment; then he closed the door and, mindful of fingerprints, drew on his gloves.
He sat down and read the file quickly. As he came to the bottom of the last page, he unconsciously allowed Krysalis to fall onto his thigh, feeling like a man who has heard Mozart for the first time, and recognized the voice of God, and known that life has changed.
NATO’s General Situation Plan. A detailed description of where the forces were, in what strengths, able to call on what reserves. Inventories, capacities, lists …
But there was more, much more. The second section of the file told the generals what to do with their lists, if war broke out. It specified targetings for warheads. Counterstrikes. Counterstrikes to counterstrikes. Deployments.
Lescombe was planning the first phase of the next land war in Europe.
And that was not all. The file disclosed a British assessment of America’s attitude toward her supposed allies. Contempt. Mistrust. A deep-rooted feeling that Europe was of scant importance, that its tin-pot armies could be relied on to do only the wrong thing at the wrong time and in the wrong way.
Gerhard now knew why Barzel had been in such a funk.
Footsteps in the passage. By the time Anna opened the door Gerhard had placed Krysalis on top of the desk and was staring out the window.
“Oh, Anna, my Anna …” He gestured dolefully toward the file. “What have you done?”
“But how
could
I have done it? I don’t even know the combination to the safe!”
He thought he might go mad. He could not let this file go, not ever. It represented more than wealth, more than safety; if he could somehow hold on to Krysalis, that meant a new start abroad, new life. Somehow,
anyhow,
he had to neutralize Anna’s half memories.
“The only possible explanation,” he said slowly, “is that it’s in your subconscious. Dreams, voices … does anyone know, suspect, that you might have this?”
“Of course not!” His expression terrified her.
“When will David be coming home? Christ, why didn’t I think of that before—
when?”
She darted a look at her watch. “Soon. Gerhard, I think it might be best if I went away for a while, what do you think?”
He gaped at her. It was so exactly what he wanted her to do, and so much the very opposite of what he’d expected her to say, that for a moment he could only sit in silence. “Perhaps … but it’s a … a little difficultto just, well, run away from something like this,” he temporized.
“Running away is the last thing I mean to do. But listen. I’m a barrister, I’ve done enough cases to know how these things work. People panic, because they talk first and think later. I’ve got a solicitor and tomorrow we’ll call him, I’ll make a statement, but the first, only thing I need is
time!”
“But … but wouldn’t that seem like running? To the police, I mean?”
“You don’t understand. Look at me.”
“Anna, I—”
“No, just look at me.” She laid both palms against his chest. “I’m calm, yes?”
Reluctantly he nodded. There was something terribly wrong with Anna but he couldn’t put his finger on it yet.
“I’m a trained lawyer. You can’t tell me how things appear and don’t appear to the outside world, because I understand better than you do. Now. The first thing to face up to is that David doesn’t know anything about you. He doesn’t realize I’ve been in therapy, or why I went into therapy in the first place or anything about my problems. Right?
Right!”
He nodded again. At last he was beginning to understand. She was scared out of her wits, but determined not to show it. She wanted to run away, she
had
to run away … but first someone, an outsider, must provide her with corroboration of
rational
reasons for flight. Somebody had to give approval.
“Maybe it was a mistake not to tell David,” she
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