Dark Zone

56

The restaurant the librarian recommended turned out to be right down the street. It also, not coincidentally, happened to be the one to which she was going. Since the hour was early — the French rarely ate before seven — she suggested a drink at the bar.

“Stall for as long as you can,” Farlekas told Dean. “Lia’s just getting into the library now.”

It wasn’t exactly the most difficult order he’d ever had to follow. The woman’s English was very good, and the wine wasn’t all that bad, either. She asked him about America; he told her about California and asked about France.

The woman seemed to suddenly realize that she hadn’t told him her name. “Marie,” she said, holding her hand out across the table. Dean shook the hand, its warmth tickling him for just a moment.

He thought of Lia and felt guilty, as if he were cheating on her somehow. The drinks turned into a light dinner. The woman ended up walking him to the Metro line two blocks away. They exchanged e-mail addresses — and a pair of kisses. The woman watched as Dean bought a ticket and went down to the platform.

Lia was standing there, arms folded. She didn’t acknowledge him.

“Excuse me, mademoiselle,” he said, walking up over to her. “Didn’t we meet in the library?”

Lia gave him a death-wish glare.

“Sorry, guess I was wrong,” said Dean. The train came in, its rumble light because of the rubber wheels the metro used. Dean got into the car, expecting Lia to follow, but she didn’t.

“She’s getting the car. She’s OK,” said the Art Room when he checked what was going on. “She’s got the drive and is going to take it directly to the airport. We have a plane standing by.”

He went back to the hotel and sat on one of the plush couches in the ornate lobby, staring up at the mirrored ceiling. It was more than an hour later when Lia arrived. She didn’t acknowledge him, walking briskly past the doorman to the elevators at the side. Dean waited for a second and then got up to follow, entering the elevator just as the doors closed.

“Thanks for holding the door,” he said.

“You made it”

“Look, I know—”

“What do you know, Charlie Dean? What do you know?”

“I don’t see why you’re mad at me.”

Her face flushed. The elevator stopped at the second floor and two people got in, standing between them. Lia turned around, as if interested in the next day’s forecast, which was posted on a small piece of paper at the back of the elevator car.

He wanted to tell her he loved her, but there was no way he could speak. They went to their separate rooms, Dean so angry with himself that he forgot to scan the room first with the personal computer. He flipped on the television, sat back on the bed, then remembered that he had to check the room for bugs.

He had just turned on the PDA when someone knocked on the door. He jerked around, surprised.

“Oui?” he said, pulling out his pistol. “Yes?”

“I’m going for a walk,” said Lia.

Dean stared at the door for a moment, then looked down at the gun in his hand.

“Yeah, so am I,” he told her, stuffing the gun back beneath his shirt and grabbing his jacket.

They waited for the elevator silently. Inside the car, Dean hit the stop button.

“You’re going to set off an alarm,” said Lia as the car paused between floors. Her lip trembled.

“Look, I don’t know what happened to you in Korea. I know you got beat up. I’m sorry. But I love you. I do love you.” The words were choking, but he forced himself to continue. “Look, I’m not good at this. I get, whatever, tongue-tied. But I do love you. And if I can do something to help you, I will. Just let me.”

Lia’s eyes had puffed up and he could tell she was fighting back tears. He pulled her toward him, but she was stiff in his arms, still distant.

It’s not like it is in the movies, he thought. I can’t make it better just because I wish it were.