Oberheim (Voices) | Page 8

handed him the cup and sat down. "Only. . .I can't do it by hating them. I've tried. I tried remembering my husband's death, but that only made me feel a terrible loss, not hatred. So I tried thinking about what they had done to Lawrence. Sometimes I think all he ever wanted was to live out his remaining years in peace. But he couldn't. They had taken even that away from him. He was no soldier, any more than Eric was. War was the last thing either wanted, and it killed them both---my husband quickly, and Lawrence slowly, from the inside. He tried to be hard and cold, but his faith in life had been shaken too deeply. Do you know what I'm saying?"
"Yes, though I think there was more to it than that."
"Maybe. I'm just trying to tell you how I feel."
Their eyes met. "Go on."
"I'm going to try to kill him, because I know something must be done. But it's not in my nature to be vindictive. I'll be as passive and yielding as I can, and then just do it."
Morgan took a deep breath. "You know there's the danger of being found out, or of being killed afterwards?"
"Yes. And I'm not just saying that."
... "Well. I admire your courage. And I'll do everything I can to protect you." He took a long, slow draught from the cup. "One thing, anyway. I won't have to be a part of their cancer anymore. I won't have to keep silent." He lowered his head in exhaustion. "Have you got anything stronger?"
"Yes. Lawrence kept some whiskey." She rose to get it.
They talked together far into the night. Then he said goodbye, and made his way stealthily back to the high-security apartment complex, and by a way known only to himself, entered the wide bedroom. The next night he returned with a dental surgeon, who implanted a small capsule filled with poison onto the bottom of her tongue, and sharpened to a cutting edge the canine tooth on the corresponding side of her mouth. They made arrangements for the boy, and set a tentative date for five days hence. That day, at least, she would come and live with him.
* * *
The flat was wide and spacious, divided into three sections. Coming through the front door, one entered the large living area, the room itself recessed to the right a foot lower than the polished hardwood walk-in. Deeply carpeted, it was furnished with long, pillowy couches and stiff upright chairs. Low tables of stainless steel and glass were spread among them. The in-wall, farthest from the walkway, consisted of a broad Earthstone hearth (a luxury), and was crowned above the mantle by a photograph of the First Minister, awarding the Medal of Valor to a tall, stern-faced soldier. A barrage of terraced and hanging plants surrounded the slanting, beamed windows of the western wall. Its opposing face was a wall-size entertainment screen, now projecting a tropical rainforest with a high, flowing waterfall in the background.
The bedroom opened off the walkway to the left, behind a thick double door of oak. The kitchen was straight ahead, and by a further passage, the workroom or den.
Elonna sat beside him on one of the couches, its deep-cushioned comfort belying the approaching danger. She moved closer, and quite unconsciously, put her head against his neck. Morgan put his arm around her and stared at nothing. She was clothed in mistress fashion, a long dress of sunburst silk and mesh.
"When will they be here, Morgan?"
"Soon, I think. Try not to worry."
"May I have another drink?"
"Sure." He started to rise.
"No, nevermind. Don't get up. I'll be all right; just don't get up." He drew her closer, warmed her shoulder with his hands.
"Remember," he said, "don't worry about looking scared. You play the part of a refugee among enemies, saving yourself by being my mistress. Your natural reactions, whatever they are, will be all right."
"Well I'm glad of that. Oh Morgan, I wish it was over."
"So do I..... Oh, also. Don't be alarmed if he speaks of your past or your family. He'll have found all that out ahead of time."
"I'm scared."
A warning light lit above the doorway.
"They're in the building."
"How many?" she asked, fighting back a surge of fear.
"I don't know. I'll try to find out." He got up and went to an intercom by the door, moved his hand across it. "Lieutenant. How many have we got tonight?"
"Six, Undersecretary."
"Thank you, Walthrop." He switched it off. "Six."
"Why so many?"
"Probably to check the rooms. I don't think they'll stay." Several seconds later the door tone sounded. He turned to Elonna. "You okay?" She took a deep breath. He opened the door.
The Secretary entered, preceded by his two bodyguards. Two uniformed soldiers followed. Morgan addressed them sternly. Another soldier