The Complete Fugitive Archives (Project Berlin, The Moscow Meeting, The Buried Cities) (Endgame: The Fugitive Archives) Read online

  “Even though you’re not the Player anymore?”

  “Ianthe is a friend,” Ariadne says. “Wait here.”

  I watch her walk across the street. Again I think about how she must be feeling. Everything is happening so quickly, and I wonder if I’m doing the right thing, asking her to help me. Even though she’s been demoted by her line, she’s still Minoan. Her family is here, and her friends. If she’s caught helping me, she could lose all of that too. Selfishly, I want her with me. But maybe I’m asking too much.

  She knocks on the door and waits. Nobody comes to open it. She knocks again. When still there’s no answer, she takes something from her pocket and inserts it into the door lock. The door opens, and she slips inside. I wait for her to signal to me that it’s all right to join her, but she doesn’t. I wait, wondering what’s happening inside. No lights come on, and there are no voices. Then Ariadne emerges from the house and darts across the street.

  “I’ve got it,” she says, showing me a familiar-looking box.

  “That was easy,” I say.

  “Too easy,” she replies. “It was locked up, but still I was able to get it without much effort.”

  “What are you saying?” I ask her.

  “I’m not certain,” she says. “But we need to get away from here. Now.

  How are you getting back to the mainland?”

  “I hadn’t really gotten that far with my plan,” I admit.

  She shakes her head. “How did you get here?”

  “I hired a boat.”

  “And you didn’t tell him to wait for you?”

  “I didn’t know how long it would take.”

  “Sometimes I can’t believe you’re a Player,” she says. “Come on.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To the docks.”

  Again she takes me through backstreets, avoiding the crowds.

  When we arrive at a dock, she goes to a boat and begins untying the mooring lines. “You can pilot a boat, right?”

  “Sure,” I say. “I think.”

  “You think?”

  “How hard can it be?”

  Before she can answer, a voice behind us says, “So, it’s true.”

  I turn and see a woman standing on the dock, watching us.

  “Ianthe,” Ariadne says.

  “I told the others you would never betray us,” Ianthe says. “I see now I was wrong.”

  “I’m not betraying anyone,” Ariadne tells her.

  Ianthe looks at me. “No?” she says.

  Ariadne takes a step toward her. “This isn’t about Minoans and Cahokians anymore,” she says. “It’s about all of us working together.”

  “Together?” Ianthe says. “You want to share the weapon?” She laughs, as if this is the stupidest thing she’s ever heard. “Is that what this boy has promised you?”

  I bristle at her obvious insult and want to say something. Ariadne glances at me as if to tell me to calm down, and I force myself to keep quiet.

  “He hasn’t promised me anything,” Ariadne says. “We believe there’s another way, a way we can all benefit from using the weapon.”

  Ianthe pulls a gun from her coat pocket. “You’re not thinking clearly,” she says. “But it’s not too late.”

  As I wait for Ariadne to say something, a burst of gunfire erupts. Instinctively, I check myself for wounds, thinking the Minoan woman has fired at me. Then I realize that it was the sound of fireworks. It must be midnight, and people are celebrating the arrival of 1949.

  Ianthe too must think it’s gunfire, as she looks around. While she’s distracted, Ariadne rushes at her and tackles her. The two of them struggle, rolling around on the dock. Then Ariadne gets Ianthe in a choke hold. The other woman tries to break free, but Ariadne retains her grip, and soon Ianthe passes out.

  “Help me get her on the boat,” Ariadne says.

  “On the boat?” I say.

  “We can’t leave her here,” Ariadne says, putting her arms under Ianthe’s and lifting her. “She’ll alert the others.”

  Not if we kill her, I think. But I know Ariadne won’t do this. So I go and help her carry the unconscious woman onto the boat. Ariadne finds some rope and ties her up securely. Then she says, “I knew it was too easy. We need to go. Now.”

  She takes control of the boat, starting it as I finish untying the mooring lines. As we leave the harbor, I go and stand by her, looking out at the dark water.

  “It will take us seven hours to reach the mainland,” Ariadne says.

  “And then?” I ask.

  She looks at me. “And then we’ll see.”

  Ariadne

  The last thing I expected to be doing on the first day of the new year is driving to France in a stolen car with the Cahokian Player after stealing from my own line, but that’s exactly what I’m doing. Boone is slumped against the door of the Citroën, snoring as I navigate the roadway. We’ve been taking turns driving, and I’m supposed to wake him when we reach Belgrade, so that he can relieve me and I can sleep. However, I am not tired. Even if I were, my thoughts would make it impossible to rest.

  I have committed treason. By now this will have been discovered. Ianthe will have returned to Crete and told everyone what happened. Hopefully, she will also deliver the message I gave her when we left her tied up in the boat at the dock on the mainland. “Tell them that there’s another way,” I said as she glared at me, her eyes filled with both anger and sadness. I know she thinks I’ve turned my back on my line. She’s wrong. I still hope there’s a way for us all to use the weapon for our mutual benefit. But will anyone believe that? And even if they do believe that it’s what I want, will they ever agree to cooperate with other lines?

  I don’t know. And they will come after me. I know that. I do have an advantage in that they don’t know where I am going. Depending on how much they know about Sauer—and I assume they know as much as I do—they might surmise that Lottie is the person with the most knowledge of the weapon. They might also think that the weapon is heading for the United States with the Cahokian Player. Either way, they will be looking both for the weapon and for me.

  I wonder if I will ever see Crete again, or my family. I fear that I have made this impossible. As far as they are concerned, I might as well be dead. Perhaps they even wish me so. Cassandra, as our new Player, is the one most likely to be tasked with hunting down the stolen weapon. If so, she will also be told to get it at any cost, including, if necessary, my life. We are still sisters, still share the same blood in our veins, but we might as well be strangers.

  Maybe we have always been enemies. At any rate, we have not been friends for a very long time. Now Cassandra has what she’s always wanted. She’s the Player. If the cost of this is our sisterhood, I believe it’s a price she would more than willingly pay. Truthfully, I’ve often wondered why the council chose me over her. I imagine they are now asking themselves the same question. Particularly Ursula Tassi and Nemo Stathakis. Having declared their belief in my innocence, they will undoubtedly be even more disappointed. They might even find themselves suspected of disloyalty.

  My mother and father I cannot bring myself to think about. The pain I have caused them is far more than they should ever be expected to bear. For them, this will be like a death. My name will cease to be spoken in the house. Their friends will pity them, or worse. What was once a source of pride and joy for them will now be a bitter taste in their mouths. Even though Cassandra will do everything she can to remove the tarnish from the Calligaris name, there will always be those who delight in reminding them that they birthed a traitor.

  And what of me? The entire course of my life changed the moment I agreed to help Boone steal the weapon. Before that, even. If I replay the events of the past week (has it really been only a week?), I suppose it all began the moment I first had the opportunity to kill him, and didn’t. That decision altered my destiny, although my grandmother would say that the Fates did that the moment they spun, measured, and cut the
thread of my life. I don’t believe that I am simply acting out a predetermined story, or that any of us are. I think we make our own fates.

  What, then, have I determined for myself? Now that I am no longer a Player, everything is gone. I have nothing but the few things I brought with me: a small amount of money, some clothes, a pistol, several items of sentimental value. I no longer have access to the resources of my line. No safe houses. No weapons. No money or documents. No information. Only what’s in the small bag in the backseat. And what Boone will share with me.

  I don’t want to be dependent on him. We are obviously now something more than two Players working together. I have cast my lot with him. I still don’t know what this means, however. When this is all over, where will I be? Who will I be? All of my life, I’ve been a Minoan. For much of it, I’ve been a Player or training to be a Player. Now I am just a girl. A girl with unusual skills, yes, but what use are they to me now? What kind of life can I make with them?

  Everything is a question. And I have no answers.

  Boone stirs in his sleep. He stretches, then opens his eyes. When I look over at him, he grins. “Hi,” he says. “How long was I out?”

  “A couple of hours,” I tell him.

  “You were supposed to wake me.”

  “I’m not tired,” I say.

  “You mean you were thinking too much. Come on, pull over. I have to pee anyway.”

  I steer the car to the side of the road. Boone gets out and walks off into the field a little way. When he returns, he comes to my side and opens the door. “My turn,” he says.

  I get out and we switch places. When I’m sitting in the passenger seat, Boone reaches over and takes my hand. We sit there for a while, both of us looking out at the falling snow. I don’t express my fears to him. I don’t know why, except that I already feel too unsure, too vulnerable. I trust him, but I’m afraid of letting him see how much I’ve given up for him. Maybe he already knows. He probably does. But we don’t talk about it, and I find myself wondering if he’s just as unsure as I am.

  After a few minutes, Boone starts the car and pulls back onto the road. I close my eyes and sleep fitfully.

  We stop for the night in Krško, finding a small inn where the proprietor doesn’t even give us a second look as he takes the money Boone offers and leads us upstairs to a small room with a single bed. It’s freezing cold, and after washing up in the tiny bathroom, Boone and I climb into the bed still wearing our clothes, and pull the heavy woolen blankets over us. We’re both exhausted, and within minutes I’m asleep again despite the nearness of him. We wake before dawn and get back in the car.

  After another long day of driving, in the small hours of the morning we reach the tiny French village where Lottie is staying. When we knock on the door of the house, it takes a long time before anyone answers. When the door finally opens, we’re greeted by a woman who looks less than pleased to see us. Boone addresses her in French, she closes the door, and we wait some more. The next time the door opens, Lottie is there.

  “Come in,” she says. She doesn’t look any happier to see us than the first woman did.

  She leads us into a kitchen, where we sit at a table as she brings us something to eat and drink. It feels good to be sitting in a real home after so long in the car, even if the home is not mine. I listen as Boone fills her in on what’s taken place.

  “You have the weapon?” Lottie says.

  “It’s somewhere safe,” Boone says. We’ve agreed not to let Lottie know that we have it with us.

  “What are you going to do with it?”

  “We don’t know yet,” Boone tells her. “I’m supposed to be in Moscow, looking for Karl Ott. I told the Cahokian contact that he has the weapon.”

  “But you have it,” Lottie says. “Why not just give it to them?”

  Boone hesitates before answering. “We don’t know if they should have it.”

  The way he keeps saying we is obvious, and not just to me. Lottie looks at me, then back to Boone. I can tell she wants to know what’s going on between us, but she doesn’t ask. Instead she says, “What do you need me to do?”

  “After Sauer, your father knows the most about the weapon,” Boone says.

  “Yes,” says Lottie. “But he’s in prison.”

  “We’re going to get him out.”

  Lottie laughs, not because this is funny, but because Boone has taken her by surprise. “Taganka Prison is not a place you simply walk out of.”

  “Karl Ott’s father is there as well, isn’t he?” Boone asks.

  Lottie nods. “Yes. That’s how I know how impossible what you suggest is. Karl’s tried for the past several years to find a way to free his father.”

  This is exactly what Boone and I have been counting on. Now Boone says, “Perhaps if he had people with special training assisting him, it could be done.”

  Lottie’s expression changes. “The two of you?”

  “Not to brag, but few people are as well equipped for something like this as Players,” Boone says. “And you have the two best Players in the world sitting right here.”

  This flash of cockiness reminds me of when we first met. Then, it annoyed me. Now, it endears him to me. His self-confidence is reassuring. I find myself suppressing a smile as Boone keeps working on Lottie.

  “Ariadne has spent a long time living and working with the Soviets,” he says. “And both of us are trained in every type of combat and rescue technique you can think of. If Ott can help us get into Taganka, we can get your father out.”

  “Why should he?” Lottie asks.

  “Because we’ll also be springing his father,” Boone reminds her. “And because he still really wants to get his hands on the weapon, and we’ll let him think he has a chance if he helps us.”

  “But you have no intention of letting him have it.”

  Boone shrugs. “Like I said, I don’t know what we’ll do with it.”

  Lottie thinks over what he’s said. “I don’t know that my father will help you,” she says, and I can tell from her tone that she means this. “His relationship to that work is … complicated.”

  “Let’s worry about that once we get him out,” Boone says. “Whether he will or won’t, I’m sure he’d rather not be sitting in that place. From what I hear, it’s brutal. Especially for political prisoners.”

  A shadow of worry passes over Lottie’s face. I know she’s thinking about her father being in the Soviet prison, about what might be happening to him. Boone is right: Taganka is a terrible place. The MGB I worked with used to refer to it as the Devil’s Playground because of all the unimaginable things that await the prisoners there. Almost nobody who passes through its gates comes out again, and if they do, they’re forever changed. If there’s a chance that Lottie can get her father out, she should take it.

  She does. “I’ll contact Ott,” she says, standing up. “I’ll let you know what he says. In the meantime, there is a room upstairs where you can rest. You’ll have to share.”

  She looks at me, and I don’t look away. Her unspoken question hangs in the air, and I answer it by saying, “I think we can manage.” Lottie smiles briefly, and I think that despite our past, despite everything that happened in Berlin, she is happy for us. Having lost Jackson must surely be a huge blow to her, and maybe she sees the possibility of Boone and me being together as a sliver of hope in the darkness.

  She shows us to the room, then leaves us alone. When she’s gone, Boone says, “Did that just work?”

  “I think maybe it did,” I say as I open my bag and take out some fresh clothes. I’m hoping the bathroom we walked by has a bathtub in it, but I’ll settle for washing my face.

  Boone sits on the bed and bounces on it like a little boy. When I look at him, he stops. “Sorry,” he says. “I’m just kind of excited. I know everything is weird, but it feels good to have something to do.”

  “Once a Player, always a Player,” I remark.

  He stands up and comes to me. “Sorry
,” he says again. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

  “I’m not upset,” I tell him. “Not about this.” And I’m not. Because Boone is right: it is nice to have something to focus on other than my personal worries. Something like going to Moscow to break into one of the most notorious prisons in the world is a problem I know how to work with. It will involve planning and skill, but it can be done. Unlike fixing the rest of my life.

  He still looks sad, so I lean up and press my mouth to his. It’s the first time we’ve really kissed, and when our lips meet, my entire body comes alive. I have to force myself to pull away. “It’s okay,” I reassure him. “I’m going to go see about a bath. I’ll be back.”

  I leave him in the bedroom and go next door. There is a bathtub, and it does work, although the water is only lukewarm. That’s good enough. I fill the tub, add some bath salts from a jar, and then sink into water that smells like roses. I take a bar of soap and rub it on my skin, enjoying the way the lather washes away the feeling of being in a car for two days. When I’m done, I feel, if not like a new person, then at least like someone who has more options than she did a few hours ago.

  I rinse off, wrap a towel around me, and return to the bedroom. I half expect to find Boone already asleep, but he’s not. He’s sitting on the bed, the box with the weapon pieces in it open before him. He’s holding up a piece and looking at it.

  “Is it wise to have that out in the open like that?” I ask as I shut the door and lock it.

  “No,” he says. He hasn’t looked up yet, as he’s too busy examining the piece in his hand. “But I’ve risked a lot for this stuff, and I wanted to see what all the fuss is about. It’s weird to think that this was made by people from outer space, isn’t it?”

  I walk over to the bed and stand in front of him. I let go of the towel, and it falls to the floor. The air is cool on my naked skin, and I shiver a little. Boone looks up. The piece of the weapon in his hand tumbles from his fingers, and he scrambles to catch it.

  “Oh,” he says. “Wow. Um …”