Jessa Ch. 13

Keeping her eyes as much on the patrons as on the screen of the tablet, she called up the screen capture of the website she had found with the genetic statistical analysis, hoping there might be some other reference to the 'subjects' of the analysis that she could search on, since simply looking for the names Torah and Jessa wasn't doing much good, and so few people on the continent used family names anymore. She also knew from all her studies that scientists seldom used as simple a system as subject 1 and subject 2. That might have been convenient for the write-up of the analysis, but there should be more complex identification, which might lead her to the original genetic mapping or prior studies. If nothing else, she might be able to determine who had done the original studies, just from the identification conventions they had used.

It required expanding the view and a bit of guesswork, given the resolution, but underneath one of the figures, she found what she was looking for. Again, she broke her cardinal rule for the tablet and made a note of the true subject id's, then dove into a new search, starting with the internet and actual, useful search engines. The search for those particular id's came up blank, of course, but she did, using extensive guesswork and wildcard searches, find a genetics lab that seemed to use similar labeling conventions. The lab was in Berlin, and Jessa groaned. She had, of course learned French, and studied Spanish, so she had a passing familiarity with other romance languages, and certainly latin as it pertained to the sciences. But she only had a smattering of German, and even though English had been nominated as the most common language on the continent, Eastern Germany had been reluctant to let go of their old language. Most of what she could find about the genetics lab was in German and there was no way she was going to trust internet translations with highly technical scientific information. Not that there was a whole lot of that to be found on the internet anyway. It did appear that the lab was still functioning or had been repurposed, at any rate.

She had just returned to the darker sites of the web to search for further information when another patron entered the lounge. She watched him surreptitiously as her fingers toyed with the keyboard. He didn't seem interested in her or any of the other patrons in particular though, ordering a drink then retiring to a corner table much as she had. After a few moments, he pulled out a smart phone and began typing into it. Jessa had come to learn that smart phones tended to indicate someone of circle rank, even in the cities. She couldn't see a crest on the newcomer, but he had kept his coat on, even as she still had her cloak draped about her shoulders. Gradually, when he continued to take no interest in anyone else in the lounge, she went back to her own pursuits. At one point, he actually used the phone to call someone, though she wasn't able to hear hardly any of the conversation. The one word she did pick out was 'encrypted,' and she smiled to herself, thinking he must be having as hard a time getting information off the internet as she was.

By the end of the night, she was still frustrated, but at least a little more hopeful. She had found some sites that used the id conventions of that particular lab in Berlin, though they were either totally unrelated to her particular genetic interests and/or so highly technical and stolidly German that she couldn't be sure of the significance of them. What gave her the most hope, though, was the recurring interest in the particular genes that had been the source of the statistical analysis she had found. If only Gemma could get her the job she wanted, then any questions she cared to put to geneticists would arouse no suspicions. And she would be free to use computer modelling to determine what that ideal, one-in-nineteen combination might produce, without some hyper-suspicious techie looking over her shoulder.

She sighed as she folded up her tablet, once more scanning the lounge to see who might be paying undue attention to her actions. No one seemed to care as she wrapped her cloak around her and pulled the strap of her bag securely over her head. In fact, the barkeep was on his cell phone, arguing with someone and angrily wiping down the same section of counter he'd been working on for the last fifteen minutes. Jessa drained the last sip of her second glass of wine and strode from the lounge.

The cold wind outside was now whipping about as if frustrated that it couldn't find people to annoy. Jessa pulled her cloak tighter and clutched at her hood. She crossed the street in the middle of the block then headed for the corner. She'd been feeling paranoid all evening and she wasn't about to shed the premonition just because she was heading home. She rounded the corner of the building then turned and watched through the display windows of a clothing shop. A moment later, the man who had come into the lounge after Jessa, emerged. He paused as she had done, tugging his coat closer, looking up and down the street. Then he started across the street in the middle of the block, just as she had done. Jessa didn't wait to see if he came toward her corner. She turned and ran, pulling her gown up to free her legs. She had worn flats, knowing that she would be walking some distance. When she reached the next corner, she angled across the street and into an alleyway. She was remembering when she had run from Cologne, how easy it had been to reach rooftops. Of course, then she had been wearing men's clothing, not a tightfitting, wide skirted gown like now. And the city definitely seemed more security conscious than the small towns where she had stolen provisions that she needed. But then, the city also had many-storied buildings, and therefore, fire escapes.

Jessa climbed up onto an ancient, rusted dumpster, praying the metal wouldn't choose now to give out under her feet. She caught hold of an equally ancient and rusty end of a fire escape landing and pulled herself up, hand over hand until she could catch a toe and throw her other leg over the top rail. She raced up one set of stairs then crumpled to the latticed flooring, trying to look like a sack of debris in her shapeless brown cloak, holding her breath. A few minutes later, she saw the man walk past the end of the alley, glancing down to the far end. After another few minutes, he came back by the end of the alley and proceeded to walk down it, peering behind the ancient dumpster and into recessed doorways. Everywhere but up. Still, she didn't move until a half hour passed. Well beyond her sign-off time on the home computer; the sign-off time that Torah had dictated and which she suspected he watched for closely.

When she finally built up her courage to climb back down, she found that the sliding ladder would in all probability never slide again in its rusty lifetime. She had to jump down onto the dumpster, with far more noise than she'd hoped and slip back down to the ground. She ran to the end of the alley and back onto the street, hoping no one cared enough to check on the noise then made her way home as hastily as she could without drawing undue attention. Inside her apartment, she dashed to the computer, not even stopping to turn on a light, and shut it down, twenty-five minutes late. She sank into the desk chair and picked up her cell phone. It didn't show any missed calls, the only bright spot of the night. She tossed the phone back onto the desk and went to hang up her cloak.

As she went back into the living room, the lights of Paris were twinkling at her through the windows and she diverted to savor them for just a moment. That was when she saw a man, down on the sidewalk across from her building, apparently speaking on a cell phone. She couldn't tell if it was the same man. His head was down and it was too dark to make out any details. He didn't glance toward the building or give any indication he'd been watching it, but she knew. When he'd lost her outside the lounge, he or someone else had come here to watch for her; probably seen her as she arrived. She clutched at the curtain and leaned against the wall, watching. Was he one of Jacq's men? Someone set on kidnapping her again? Or even killing her? She entertained the idea of confronting the stranger, but in the end, she only threw the bolts on the door and went to bed. Whatever would happen, would happen, and she could deal with it far better if she was rested.

****

The rest she had hoped for didn't come readily and she rose early to unbolt the door so that Shay and Raza could get into the apartment. When she went back into the bathroom to prepare for the day, dark circles under her eyes greeted her. She took her time showering and tried to hide the worst of her fatigue with makeup. She didn't seriously think she could fool Shay or Raza, but they had gotten pretty good at getting the hint that if she tried to hide something, it was because she didn't want to talk about it. She donned comfortable running clothes, even though she had no intention of going out there where someone might be watching, lurking. She marveled at how badly her confidence had been shaken in these last few months. It was maybe a good thing she wasn't allowed to compete athletically anymore. She certainly lacked the 'winning attitude' her coaches had praised her for in the past. Torah had seen to that, and Renik, and Dusseldorf and even beautiful Paris had kicked her and stomped on her and beaten into her that those incredibly rare track meets and Continental Games she'd been allowed to compete in meant nothing in the greater scheme of things. What was a cross-country record to a man holding a gun?

Jessa practiced smiling in the mirror, rehearsing a greeting for Shay and Raza, until she thought she could reasonably cover her discouragement. Then she went through the bedroom and rounded the corner into the kitchen. Her fake smile vanished immediately when she saw Jacq leaning against a counter, sipping from a cup of coffee.

"Good morning, Jessa."

"Jacq! What are you doing here?"

He gave a gallic shrug. "I came to ask you about last night."

Her mind raced. Did he mean the fact that she was late turning her computer off, or did he know about the lounge, was the stranger one of his men? "Last night?" she stammered.

"Your car was found at a restaurant. After closing. Yet your phone showed you at home when I pinged it."

Jessa didn't know whether to be relieved or not. She poured herself a cup of coffee, concentrating to keep her hands from shaking. "Raza and I had a late lunch. Too much wine. I still have a touch of a hangover." She looked over at him as she added some milk. "The doctor cleared me to get pregnant again. We were celebrating. We thought it best not to drive home."

"You always celebrate with servants?" he asked.

"I don't know. I've never had servants before. I don't know what's right or wrong behavior. What I do know is that Raza is Elite, like me..."

"Like you used to be," he corrected.

"And she's close to my age and we have fun together once in a while. Is that really so terrible?"

He gazed at her with that cool, emotionless expression that Torah had perfected. He set his coffee cup down and studied his fingernails. "So you were drunk last night?"

She frowned. "Tipsy, yes."

"'Tipsy' enough to pass out?"

"What are you getting at, Jacq?" she demanded.

"Well, if you passed out, it might explain why you were late turning your computer off, last night," he suggested.

"You talked to Torah," she stated, and it came out sounding like an accusation.

"Yes. Twice. He was concerned."

"If he was concerned, why didn't he call me?"

Jacq was watching her closely now. He was still leaning against the counter, and his arms were casually crossed, yet she had the sensation of an animal of prey about to be pounced on. "He did. You didn't answer."

"He did not," she argued. "The phone would have shown a missed call."

Jacq smiled humorlessly. Jessa had to concentrate to keep from instinctively backing away from him. "Oh, he did. He wanted to tell you how pleased he was with the doctor's conclusion." Jessa shook her head in confusion. Jacq continued. "I told him you were probably just in the bathroom or something. So he waited and tried again. You still didn't answer. See, he was puzzled, because your computer was active. And then he was puzzled that you were spending so much time on the internet, on inane websites. He had his tech clean up your phone log, and then they just settled in to watch and wait." He shrugged. "I knew he was worried, so I sent one of my men over to your building. He told me he saw you arrive back, in a proper gown, so not out for a midnight run again. That was just about when Torah called to tell me you closed down your computer."

"What do you want, Jacq?" she asked in exasperation.

"The same thing Torah wants. The truth. Where were you?"

"Then Torah can ask me," she snapped.

In two steps, he was in front of her, bearing down on her despite only being perhaps an inch taller, backing her against the refrigerator. "This is my city," he said. "If you are to be in it, under my protection, you will answer to me."

Jessa fed on her anger, gaining courage from it. "Don't play your mind games with me," she snarled. "You know damn well where I was. You had one of your men on me the whole time. Ask him. He'll tell you I was alone."

Jacq's hand was suddenly about her throat, pinning her against the appliance. "Where were you?" he asked again, enunciating each word slowly.

"La Ville Dorée," she gasped.

"Why?"

"Research on the internet, the dark web." She pulled his hand away from her throat, as much as he would allow. "I didn't want it to be traceable here, to me. I have a tablet. I took it with me. That's all I did, was internet searching. I swear, Jacq."

"And if it is such an innocent pursuit, why not from home? Why hide it from Torah?"

"Not from Torah. From his people." She let go of his wrist to rub her throat. He stared at her, apparently as perplexed by her answer as she had been by his inquisition.

"Explain!" he commanded.

"I admit that I wanted to have the answers before he got here," she said shakily. "Or at least know what questions to ask. But I'm not a fool. I knew I couldn't hide what I was doing from him for any length of time."

"Then I'll ask again. Why sneak around, why hide what you were doing? Why risk his wrath?"

"I don't know any more who is a friend or an enemy. I don't know what Torah knows and I don't know who knows what Torah knows. I don't know what you know. I don't know who I can trust."

He scowled at her and put his hands on his hips. "Don't you think you're being a little overdramatic?"

"Me?" she exclaimed, backing away from him nonetheless. "You stand there pretending you have no idea where I was last night. Did you really pretend to Torah that you didn't know I was out of the apartment? He never called, did he? It was all just your stupid spy games, trying to trick me."

He frowned at her. "What are you talking about?"

"The man at the lounge. I know he was yours. He showed up at the apartment later, just like you said."

"Jessa, I didn't have anyone at a lounge watching you. The man I sent here last night had been with me most of the night. Perhaps you'd better start at the beginning."

"But if..." She looked around the kitchen as if searching for an answer.

"Talk," he snapped.

"Last night, after dinner. I went in my office and started an applet to make it look like I was on the computer. I waited for Shay and Raza to go to their own apartment. Then I went out..."

"To the lounge," he concluded, trying to speed her up.

"No. I mean, that wasn't where I was headed. But it was cold outside and it seemed nice and quiet so I went in there and took a corner table. Had some wine and cheese. He came in maybe fifteen, twenty minutes later. He never really looked at me, just played with his phone the whole time."

"Then why did you think he was one of my men?" Jacq asked impatiently.

"When I left, I was feeling paranoid. I went around the corner and watched. He came out right after and crossed the street right where I had. I got scared and ran."

"All the way home?"

"No. I only had a few minutes before he would round the corner. I had a gown on and no running shoes. I didn't know if I could outrun him, so I went behind the block and down an alley and hid. A few minutes later, he passed the alley, looked down it, went by, then came back and went down the alley searching, so I knew he was looking for me."

"And how is it he didn't find you?" Jacq asked skeptically.

"I climbed up to the third floor of a fire escape. He never looked up," she explained. Jacq cocked an eyebrow but didn't say anything. "When he was gone, I went home. I tried to make sure no one was following me, but then when I looked out a little later, he was there. Or someone was. That's why I assumed it was your man, someone who knew where I lived. Jacq, if he wasn't yours, who was he?"

"Maybe you better tell me what you've been researching on your little nighttime adventures. I assume there's been more than just last night."

"I can't, Jacq," she whispered, then cringed as his anger flared. Just like Torah and Erich, there was something terrifying about the way he seemed to become someone, or something, entirely different. Had Mari ever seen this side of him? She couldn't imagine Mari ever defying him. Or maybe he could control it, and was choosing not to with her, about this matter, making it even more difficult for her to trust him. "I have to talk to Torah about it first. Please." She watched, trembling, as he struggled to regain control; watched as his fists clenched and unclenched. He was blocking the only exit to the kitchen. She tried to gauge if she could leap or roll over the counter into the living room before he lunged for her, but he was like a coiled spring of barely contained energy. His jaw was working, trying to find words to convince her, threaten her, she didn't know. He never got a chance to speak before a timid knock came on the door.

Jessa watched as he closed his eyes and shuddered with the effort to draw his anger back inside to its dark hiding place. She didn't dare call whoever was there to come in, expose them to a potentially lethal Jacq. But then he managed to gain some control. "We're not done with this," he rasped, before turning on his heel to answer the door. She went to the kitchen entry, not sure if she could control her shaking.

When Jacq opened the door, a diffident Shay stood there, wringing her hands. "I'm so sorry to be a bother," she said, searching Jessa out. "Raza hasn't returned and it's been over an hour. I would have gone to look myself, but she didn't say where."

"Returned?" Jessa asked, confused. "From where?"

"She went to get the car. She said it would only be twenty minutes."

"I'll check on her," Jacq said, almost knocking Shay down as he pushed past her.

"Wait," Jessa called. "I'll go with you."

Jacq turned sharply on his heel, pointing at Jessa. "You will not leave here," he commanded, and she saw Shay recoil in fear from him, backing toward her own apartment. Jessa stared after him, but only for a moment. Her own anger was flaring, giving her back the willfulness that his earlier anger had stolen. She ran to the door. "Stay here in case she calls," she told Shay, then she was following Jacq down the stairs. When she reached the street, his car was already racing away. Jessa shrugged and began running. The restaurant was less than two kilometers away, child's play for her. She also knew which way Raza would have chosen to walk and she followed that route, her eyes peeled for any signs.