Nano

CHAPTER 62

When Berman came to fetch Pia, she was sitting on her bed, reading. There was also a night table with a small lamp. Berman had acceded to Pia’s request and got her a better room with a proper toilet. There was a single, small leaded-glass window less than a foot square high on one wall. When Pia had brought over the night table and had stood on it, she’d been able to see green trees and pastures. Best of all the window afforded Pia a chance to adjust her diurnal schedule. She now knew when it was day and when it was night. The shackles were gone but there was still a stout locked door and a twenty-four-hour guard stationed outside. Berman had found some old paperbacks for her to read, and he had made sure she was allowed to walk around the garden for an hour a day on a leash like a dog with the guard following her around. Carrots and sticks, thought Berman.

Pia felt strong and was coiled like a watch spring ready to unravel. But she maintained a cool and slightly pathetic demeanor and hoped that what Berman felt as concern for her well-being would not morph back to the lechery she knew he was capable of.

Berman sat down next to Pia. She stiffened as he placed a hand on her knee.

“How are you feeling?”

“I feel great,” said Pia sarcastically.

“You do have the books I gave you, and a bathroom. And you’re looking better. Much better.”

“I’m just about ready for the runway at the fashion show.” She was wearing a simple black T-shirt and black shorts with which she’d been provided.

Berman’s hand traveled up Pia’s thigh and she brushed it off.

“You don’t want to go there,” Pia said. “So please take your goddamned hand off my leg, you pervert.” Pia looked daggers at Berman, but he pressed his leg harder against hers. Pia squirmed and batted at Berman with her good hand. She restrained herself from giving him a sharp martial arts — style chop on the side of his neck with her good hand that might have brought him to his knees. The trouble was she thought it probably would also put her back in the basement. “Is this your new way of trying to talk me around? Well, forget it. It’s not going to work.”

Berman’s hand was on her thigh again, rising higher. Pia again slapped it away.

“Just leave me alone,” Pia yelled at the top of her lungs. The sudden, unexpected scream startled Berman, and he stood up.

“Okay, okay. That got my attention. I was just teasing you to see how you would react.”

“Well, now you know.”

“Actually I came here to tell you I have arranged a little treat. You and I will be taking dinner together in the kitchen.”

“How romantic,” Pia commented sarcastically. She had been receiving simple meals in her room now that the IV had been discontinued. “If you poison my dinner, I promise to eat it.”

Berman laughed. “I thought I’d stop by to give you proper warning. Perhaps you’d like to freshen up. I’ll be back in a half hour or so.”

True to his word, Berman returned when he said, and then led Pia out of her bedroom. She noticed the guard by the door, it was the one with the expressionless face: the one she had seen the most often. He followed after them. Otherwise they didn’t see another person in the large dwelling. The kitchen was below ground level and was dominated by a massive iron stove on which were several covered pots and pans. Pleasing aromas of cooking wafted through the room. A butcher block table fit in one end, and there were three chairs and three place settings at the table. The guard came into the room and stood to the side.

“Are we expecting someone else? Who is it — let me guess. Whitney Jones?”

“Not Whitney, she is busy. Another colleague said he might join us.” Berman busied himself by the stove. Pia looked at him while he worked. A few days ago she would have refused to sit at the table under any circumstances. Now it was apparent to her that she had to concede a little in order to survive, and she had to stop herself from making her customary sarcastic and insulting outbursts at Berman. Pia thought Berman was truly deluded. What a bizarre situation. He was fixing dinner as if the two of them were on a date.

“You’re probably fed up with soup,” he said. “So I made us a salad to begin.” Berman presented a plate on which sat a fresh-looking summer salad. “Some fresh bread?” he asked.

“Can I have a long, sharp butcher’s knife for the butter?”

“Alas, no. I’ll butter the bread for you. Come on, Pia! I’m making an effort here. I’m trying to establish a dialogue with you in a pleasant setting.”

Pia ate. The food was good despite the circumstances being so grotesque.

“I like to cook,” Berman said, trying to be conversational. “I don’t know if I ever told you that. I made some fish — trout. With almonds. I’ve practiced a couple of times this week as a break from the Chinese fare that’s the usual aroud here, and the dish isn’t bad. I’m eager to get your opinion.”

“Whatever,” said Pia. She was feeling dizzy again, and her patience with this charade was wearing thin. Dialogue, my ass, she thought but kept her opinion to herself.

“You want some wine?” said Berman.

“Why not,” Pia said trying to suppress the sarcasm in her voice.

Berman went to the fridge to fetch a chilled bottle of Chablis.

The door opened and a man entered. Pia noticed the guard stiffen and hold himself taller. It was obvious to her that whoever this person was, he was important. He was Chinese, about Berman’s age, Pia thought, maybe younger, but she couldn’t be certain. She knew she had trouble gauging Asian age with both men and women. The man had a pleasant, relaxed expression. He was wearing an expensive-appearing T-shirt, possibly made of silk, and stylish jeans. He sported a fashionable, Western-style haircut.

“Hello,” Jimmy said to Pia casually. He merely nodded to Berman. He didn’t introduce himself to Pia. Earlier he had told Berman not to use any names if he showed up at dinner.

Berman slammed the door to the refrigerator and then busied himself opening the wine.

From Pia’s perspective it seemed that Berman was demonstrably unhappy to see the man there, apparently wanting to be alone with Pia for the so-called dialogue he had in mind. She was glad to see the man whoever he was.

“Who are you?” asked Pia. What did this mean? Berman continued to be abrupt, with his throwing away the cork and slamming the cabinet door. He came over to the table and thumped the wine down on the table. Pia looked from Berman back to the sudden visitor. There was a tenseness in the air. If Berman was this man’s superior, he would have ordered him out, or so Pia surmised. One thing was for sure: she had to play this carefully.

“Ah, I see you are about to have dinner,” the man said. “I don’t want to interrupt.”

“You’re not interrupting,” said Pia. “Mr. Berman here is playing happy family, and I haven’t talked to anyone else for weeks. We have an extra place, so sit down. So who are you, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Of course I don’t mind your asking. And you won’t mind if I don’t tell you.” Jimmy smiled. He looked at Berman, who was exceedingly uncomfortable.

“Of course this is a very unusual situation,” said Jimmy, looking at Berman. “And one that we have to resolve.”

“Who is ‘we’?” said Pia. “And by the way, I’m sitting right here. If you want to talk about me, that is. You could include me in the conversation. What I’d say to you is that I’m being held here against my will and I demand to be released. I’m losing interest in this nanotechnology stuff by the day, so I’ll be happy to go back to working on salmonella someplace else. What do you two say?”

Jimmy was impressed; she showed no fear at all. He sensed her tenacity.

Pia looked at him. Her head was pounding again, but she was trying to look resolute.

“Well, all that notwithstanding, Mr. Berman and I have to resolve the situation.”

“We are resolving it,” said Berman to Jimmy. “I am resolving it. We have plenty of time.”

“Plenty of time for what?” said Pia.

“For us to prove that you and I can work together, Pia. Your scientific promise will be invaluable to Nano as we move into our next stage. I know you realize that in your heart of hearts. Perhaps you just haven’t admitted it to yourself.”

Berman smiled at Pia and she looked back at him. What Jimmy saw in that moment of time spoke volumes to him. She was a beautiful woman, in that Berman was not deluding himself, but there was a hardness there that went beyond tenacity of purpose that Berman clearly hadn’t accounted for properly. Berman could only see the woman and overlooked the tigress.

“Well, we shall see. Mr. Berman, I wanted to let you know that we are going to watch some competition tomorrow, at the Olympic Stadium.”

“We?” said Berman.

“You and Miss Jones and me. Miss Grazdani will have to stay here, I’m afraid. But you and I are going to have a fascinating day, I can promise you. We’re going to travel by boat — the river is the only way to travel, with traffic the way it has been the last few days. The athletics competition is starting. It’s going to be fun. We’re leaving at eight.”

“I had some plans for my day here, but if that is what you wish.”

“It is.”

“I don’t have any plans,” said Pia, looking at Jimmy. “Why don’t you bring me along? It can be a party.”

Jimmy smiled even more broadly at Pia. He could tell that she was a remarkable woman in many respects, and dangerous. “Enjoy your dinner.”

“Why don’t you stay and eat with us,” said Pia. “I would enjoy it.”

“Miss Grazdani,” he said simply, and left the room.

“So who is he, Berman?” said Pia after a pause. “Your money guy? Your liaison with the Chinese government? The guy who sends you the future cadavers from Chinese jails? His English is perfect, by the way — is he Chinese American?”

Berman didn’t answer. The room might be wired; the guard might speak English — probably both.

“Let me check on the trout,” Berman said.

Jimmy Yan went back to his room on the third floor of the vicarage. He had confirmed what he thought about Pia, which meant tomorrow would be an even busier day than he’d already had planned. On his cell phone he made the first of a number of calls, he needed to make.

“Hello, yes, it’s me. The plan we talked about, we need to execute it tomorrow. But the timing is crucial. I’ll call you later with the exact schedule.”