Blood Trust - Eric van Lustbader [83]
What stood out for him was a kind of equation his mind had etched into the cube:
GRASI = THATË MBRETI = ?
He considered the equation, which was no real equation at all, and wondered what it meant. His subconscious knew, or was working on it, otherwise it would not have presented itself to him. Mbreti—king, in Albanian—was either a code name or a position rank of a major player in Arian Xhafa’s American operation. Mathis, the manager of Twilight, was bringing Mbreti’s money to the Stem. It must have been to deliver it to Dardan, which meant Mbreti was one of Arian Xhafa’s crew, perhaps Dardan himself. In any event, Mathis worked for Mbreti—the king.
Jack realized that if he solved that riddle, it still wouldn’t help him solve the riddle of the equation. Thatë’s nickname was Grasi—fat. But his real name—Thatë—meant skinny. The kid was neither fat nor skinny, so how did he come by the nickname? When things calmed down, Jack determined to ask him.
He opened his eyes. “How are you doing?” he said to Alli.
She looked at him and smiled thinly. “Better.”
The silence stretched on. He knew better than to start probing; she was sure to take it as an interrogation and he knew how negatively she’d react to that, even if it was only her perception.
“I miss music,” she said around a bite of food.
He took out Emma’s iPod and his earphones. “Can we listen to something together?”
“How about My Bloody Valentine’s ‘When You Sleep’?”
Jack scrolled through the listings. “One of Emma’s favorites. So it’s one of yours, as well.”
Alli swallowed and looked away for the moment.
Jack offered the iPod. “Do you want to do this yourself?”
She shook her head, and he plugged in the earbuds, then handed her one end. He pressed Play and they both listened to half the music. Jack disliked this form of listening so beloved of teenagers. He found it both ridiculous and useless, like listening to music on a cell phone at sixty-four kbps, so compressed the music might as well be spoken word. But, now, with MBV’s iconic wall of fuzzed-out electronics and buried vocals in his ear, knowing that Alli was enjoying the other half, he felt peculiarly close to her. Or perhaps it was because they were both sharing a vital part of Emma—sharing it and loving it.
He was interrupted by a tap on his shoulder.
“Time to saddle up,” Paull said.
The light was falling out of the sky like a sudden downpour. What was left of the sun was obscured by clouds. A few first-magnitude stars were just becoming visible, their remote glimmering foretelling a misty night.
Jack removed his earbud and Alli did the same. He rose, tucking the electronics securely away. Then he took out a pair of field glasses and went to a gap in the trees. After a moment, he sensed Paull approach.
“See anything?”
Jack shook his head. “But according to Thatë, Xhafa’s men are out there.”
Paull grunted.
“What’s our route through the valley?”
When Paull told him, Jack said, “I hope the geotechs know what they’re doing, because it seems to me that there’s no good way across.” He pointed through a gap in the trees. “See how the valley narrows down toward the far end? It’s like a huge funnel. I can see why Xhafa would position his men here and why Thatë didn’t want us to come this way.”
“I didn’t fall for one word that lying kid said.” Paull settled his backpack. “C’mon. We’re moving out.”
* * *
“IT’S JUST like threading a needle,” Paull whispered as they made their way to the edge of the forest. “The geotechs have plotted the path that gives us the lowest chance