Nevertheless she wondered what Solly would say if she didn’t show up tonight at their hotel.

They left The Wicket and strolled for an hour along the lake’s edge. The conversation became intimate in the sense that she saw longing in his eyes, and heard the subtext to his comments about his job at the Archives or the three mixed-breed dogs he owned. “I enjoy sailing,” he said. “I’ve a boat on Lake Winslett.”

“Ever dive?” she asked.

“No. But I’d like to try it. You?”

She nodded. “You seem out of place in a government job.” She realized immediately it was the wrong thing to say and wished she could call it back.

But he shrugged and smiled as if he was used to it. He explained he wasn’t in it just to supplement his income. He had a taste for statistics and for order. He liked being responsible for dividing history—of which, he said, there was nothing more chaotic—into journals and diaries, into investigative reports and records of transaction, and then storing the documents in coherent form. “Cataloging events gives me a sense of control. And I know how that sounds.”

Under other circumstances it would have struck her as a hopelessly mind-numbing career. But there was a lilt in his voice when he talked about it. And he seemed to understand exactly what she was thinking, that it was the work of a dull intellect. So he shrugged and laughed in a self-deprecating way that left her almost helpless. “Born to be a librarian,” he said.

Holding up her end of the conversation was no mean feat. Having manufactured a false name, she was forced to construct a series of lies. She was a teacher, she explained. Of mathematics. She’d secured a position at Danforth University and would start in about two weeks. At first she had a hard time recalling that her name was Kay. A general sense of confusion seemed to have set in.

Toward the end of the evening she was having trouble remembering what she’d said, what branch of math she specialized in, the name of the school in which she’d worked in Terminal City, the exact date she’d arrived in Salonika. Had that question even come up? She was sure it had.

Where was she from originally?

“Eagle Point.”

“My brother lives there, Kay. What part of Eagle Point?”

What part did she know? She had to make up a name. “The Calumet,” she told him, hoping he wasn’t familiar with the town either.

“Oh yes.” His reaction implied he knew the place well. Was he playing with her? Or was he being less than honest?

She began to realize that this was an evening she would always remember. And she visualized herself years from now recalling Mike Plymouth and wondering with a pang what had become of him.

“I should be getting home,” she said finally.

“It is getting late,” he agreed.

He insisted on escorting her, so she named a hotel, not the one she and Solly were actually using, and the cab took them there. As it drifted down through the cloudswept sky toward a landing pad, they fell silent.

“Will I see you again?” he asked, as though he’d detected something, knew there would not be a second evening.

“You can reach me here at the hotel, Mike.” There was another quiet stretch after that. The lights rose up around them, and she understood that they were both embarrassed, but only she knew why. The cab touched down, and she climbed out into a brisk wind. He joined her, and they stood holding hands, gazing at each other. “Mike,” she said, “I had a lovely evening.”

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“No. I’m just worn out, I think. Been a long day.”

He kissed her lightly. Her body stiffened and he smiled sadly at her, sensing the distance. “I’m glad I met you, Kay,” he said.

He squeezed her hand, looked in the direction of the elevator and back toward his cab. “I’d like very much to do something like this tomorrow.”

“Yes,” she said. “That would be nice.” But she didn’t want him calling during the day. Maybe find out she didn’t live here after all. “Pick me up at nine?” she said.

“Count on it.”

“Good. And maybe you should let me have your number. Just in case.”

“You’re a lovely woman, Kay,” he said. Then he was standing by the cab while she followed the ramp to the elevator bank. She got in and punched the button for the lobby. He waved, she waved back, and the doors closed.

You’re an idiot, Kay.

“How’d it go?” asked Solly.

She shrugged. “Okay.”

“He didn’t show any sign of catching on, did he?”

“No. He has no idea.”

“Good. I got the package off to Alan. He’s not happy.”

Alan was Solly’s buddy at the Institute lab. “Well, he knows we’re doing something illegal and if we get caught he’s going to be in the soup too.”

“He knows we wouldn’t blow the whistle on him.”

“Wouldn’t matter,” she said. “It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out who was helping us.” She really didn’t like the way this was turning out.

“I’m done for the day,” said Solly. “We should get everything back tomorrow, and we can go in tomorrow night.”

“Solly,” she said, “I’m beginning to wonder if it’s worth it.”

He let her see that he wasn’t surprised. “You know how I feel. Say the word and it’s over. I don’t think there’s anything to be gained by all this. I don’t believe you’re going to learn anything you didn’t know before. I’ll concede that Yoshi might have been at Tripley’s place, but there’s a relatively innocent explanation for that too. I mean it should be no surprise that he might take her home for a few days if she’s willing.”

“She was supposed to be going to the hotel with Emily.”

He shrugged. “There’s never been any proof they both got into the taxi. They used Emily’s ID. So Yoshi went with Tripley to his place for a couple of days. And got caught in the explosion. And she’s still up there somewhere. Since they didn’t know she was there, they didn’t look that hard for her.”

But they’d have found her body in the general search.

“If you want to quit,” he said, “this would be a good time.”

And an odd thing happened: She realized that Solly wanted her to give it up. But he’d be disappointed if she did.

She realized something else too: She couldn’t back away. That would mean spending the rest of her life wondering about the truth.

11

The package arrived at midafternoon. They checked the contents, a single filmy glove which was carefully packed in a translucent case. Kim put the case, with the glove still in it, in the pocket of her jacket.

They spent the day sightseeing, although Kim was too nervous to enjoy it. She picked at her meals and, as the sun began to fade, they took one of the moving skyways into Kaydon Center. The temperature was dropping and the wind had risen.

The Archives looked bleak in the hard dusk. The last visitors were filing out, their coats pulled tight around them. The pebbled walkways and the landing ramps had been swept clear of snow. A cab was lifting off as they approached from the direction of the reflecting pool. A thin layer of ice had formed on the surface. Solly was uncharacteristically subdued as they walked.

“You’re sure there’s no visual surveillance?” she asked, for the third or fourth time.

“I’m sure,” he said. “Only in Freedom Hall, or if the system doesn’t like your DNA.”

She considered what getting caught would do to her career. Indeed, she’d thought of little else for the past day.

And she’d have felt better if they had a flyer available, in case they needed to leave in a hurry. But parking a flyer on the pad might draw attention. If things went wrong, Solly had insisted, it wouldn’t matter anyhow. The authorities would know who they were before they could get out of the building.