Organization operatives were destroying this front as part of a random cleanup operation. In other words, the place was about to go up in smoke. She had to get out of there!
The agents left through the door, letting themselves out whichever way they had come, and Gaia heard the whup of the fire as the gasoline flamed under the match they dropped.
Loki
Tubes in and out of my body. An upside-down bag hung next to my bed. Faces of women. Concern. Where am I?
I think I hear sobbing. Is it real or in my head? Television. I hear a television. Canned laughter rolling in waves. Over and over again. New jokes, old laughs. Hahaha.
Someoneâs finger moves. I see a ring finger flick upward in a sort of spasm. Is that on purpose? Itâs mine. Thatâs my finger. This is my body. Iâm in aâ¦
Everything is so streamlined. My vision is dim. Is it a spaceship?
I canât move. Even my eyesâI canât seem to move my eyes around the room. They stare out from beneath drooping eyelids, neither open nor closed. They blink automatically. My throat swallows at regular intervals. The nurses come and go.
Nurses. Iâm in a hospital. Iâm in a hospital and I hear nurses. They sound like they are at a great distance.
Everything is at a great distance.
I see my brother, Tom. I see his beautiful girlfriend sitting with me on the steps of Low Library. There is a place we go to eat, the West End.
Katia. Her face is so sad, as if she knows something that is going to happen to me. As if she knows what has happened to me.
I seem to be in a coma. I canât make sense of any of this. Who is Gaia? Why does her name float around and around in my mind like a mantra?
I become tired easily. I make an effort to speak. I feel like I am shouting, but nobody hears me because my lips stubbornly refuse to move, my vocal cords frozen, cut off from the words my mind screams out.
Some of the nurses are kind. They treat me like a beloved houseplant. Iâm not.
Iâm Oliver Moore. I want to wake up, and I canât.
Failed Mission
Maybe he was surprised just to see her without a body bag and toe tag.
Steamy Bathroom
DESPITE THE YELLOW FOLDER IN HER lap, Gaia sat on the subway as it lurched through the tunnels, feeling like the lowest form of life. Sheâd been given an assignment and had only completed half of it. Worse, the assignment had been integral to her finding her father; she had totally failed him already, and her search had just begun. She tried not to let it get her downâeven Babe Ruth didnât always hit a home run, right?âbut it was no use. Maybe if sheâd searched the drawers quicker, or started from the other end, or stopped to think logically about where else it could have beenâ¦
She knew where it was now. In a pile of waterlogged, smoking ashes being shoveled out of a busted-up storefront by the NYFD. Fat lot of good it was going to do her.
As her train pulled into the Grand Street stop, she began to worry. She was angry at Dmitri for not giving her more detailed information. How could he have been so right and specific about the Places of Interest folderâand so grossly wrong about the Tom Moore folder? What was it about the travel folder that was so important? And where was he getting his information?
But she squelched her questions. The fact was, she didnât have what she had set out to get, and he could easily be angry with her for not finding the folder, with or without his directions. She was in a knot of worry and tension over her failed mission. It was all she could think about as she made her way to Dmitriâs building on Forsyth Street.
As she lifted her hand to press the buzzer on Dmitriâs door, Gaia realized that she had made a terrible mistake. She couldnât go up to Dmitriâs. What if Sam was there? She couldnât face him. Not after heâd tried to kill her.
She buzzed again.
âYes?â Dmitri sounded
The agents left through the door, letting themselves out whichever way they had come, and Gaia heard the whup of the fire as the gasoline flamed under the match they dropped.
Loki
Tubes in and out of my body. An upside-down bag hung next to my bed. Faces of women. Concern. Where am I?
I think I hear sobbing. Is it real or in my head? Television. I hear a television. Canned laughter rolling in waves. Over and over again. New jokes, old laughs. Hahaha.
Someoneâs finger moves. I see a ring finger flick upward in a sort of spasm. Is that on purpose? Itâs mine. Thatâs my finger. This is my body. Iâm in aâ¦
Everything is so streamlined. My vision is dim. Is it a spaceship?
I canât move. Even my eyesâI canât seem to move my eyes around the room. They stare out from beneath drooping eyelids, neither open nor closed. They blink automatically. My throat swallows at regular intervals. The nurses come and go.
Nurses. Iâm in a hospital. Iâm in a hospital and I hear nurses. They sound like they are at a great distance.
Everything is at a great distance.
I see my brother, Tom. I see his beautiful girlfriend sitting with me on the steps of Low Library. There is a place we go to eat, the West End.
Katia. Her face is so sad, as if she knows something that is going to happen to me. As if she knows what has happened to me.
I seem to be in a coma. I canât make sense of any of this. Who is Gaia? Why does her name float around and around in my mind like a mantra?
I become tired easily. I make an effort to speak. I feel like I am shouting, but nobody hears me because my lips stubbornly refuse to move, my vocal cords frozen, cut off from the words my mind screams out.
Some of the nurses are kind. They treat me like a beloved houseplant. Iâm not.
Iâm Oliver Moore. I want to wake up, and I canât.
Failed Mission
Maybe he was surprised just to see her without a body bag and toe tag.
Steamy Bathroom
DESPITE THE YELLOW FOLDER IN HER lap, Gaia sat on the subway as it lurched through the tunnels, feeling like the lowest form of life. Sheâd been given an assignment and had only completed half of it. Worse, the assignment had been integral to her finding her father; she had totally failed him already, and her search had just begun. She tried not to let it get her downâeven Babe Ruth didnât always hit a home run, right?âbut it was no use. Maybe if sheâd searched the drawers quicker, or started from the other end, or stopped to think logically about where else it could have beenâ¦
She knew where it was now. In a pile of waterlogged, smoking ashes being shoveled out of a busted-up storefront by the NYFD. Fat lot of good it was going to do her.
As her train pulled into the Grand Street stop, she began to worry. She was angry at Dmitri for not giving her more detailed information. How could he have been so right and specific about the Places of Interest folderâand so grossly wrong about the Tom Moore folder? What was it about the travel folder that was so important? And where was he getting his information?
But she squelched her questions. The fact was, she didnât have what she had set out to get, and he could easily be angry with her for not finding the folder, with or without his directions. She was in a knot of worry and tension over her failed mission. It was all she could think about as she made her way to Dmitriâs building on Forsyth Street.
As she lifted her hand to press the buzzer on Dmitriâs door, Gaia realized that she had made a terrible mistake. She couldnât go up to Dmitriâs. What if Sam was there? She couldnât face him. Not after heâd tried to kill her.
She buzzed again.
âYes?â Dmitri sounded
Similar Books
