Chasing the Night - Iris Johansen [86]
“No!”
“I’ve been thinking about doing it for a long time. They’re beginning to be troublesome. At first, I found them useful in controlling you. It came as a surprise to me since I’ve never cared much for books. I couldn’t see why they meant so much to you.”
Because they took me away from this place, Luke thought in agony. Because when I was reading, you and Rakovac and what you did to me didn’t matter anymore.
“But that time is past,” Mikhal said. “I actually believe that’s where you got the idea of running away from here.” He tilted his head. “In fact, I’ll let you watch. We’ll make a bonfire beside the lake. Come along.”
It was no use refusing. Mikhal had ways to make sure he saw the burning. Luke got to his feet and stumbled toward the door.
“Unless you change your mind. Why make me do this? You know I’m right.”
Luke shook his head. He had to fight them, he thought in agony. They weren’t right. Everything they said and did were lies. Maybe the whole world was full of lies. There were stories in the books about truth and kindness and courage, but they might also not be true. How could he be sure? He only knew Mikhal and Rakovac and the few people he’d met when Mikhal had taken him away from Savrin House on the raids.
And he supposed he knew the woman, Catherine Ling, who Rakovac called his mother. But he only knew her face and Rakovac’s ugly words and that faint memory.
“You’re a fool, Luke,” Mikhal said softly. He turned on his heel. “Come and see your precious books go up in flames.”
Thirty minutes later, Luke stood on the bank of the lake and watched the black smoke curl up to the gray sky from the pile of books heaped on the shore. The wind was whipping sharply, stinging his cheeks and causing the fire to leap higher.
Don’t cry, Luke told himself.
Mikhal was staring hungrily at his face, waiting for him to break, for the tears to come.
He wouldn’t cry.
He stared defiantly at Mikhal across the fire. If he looked at Mikhal instead of the burning books that had been his only friends, he could hold the tears back.
And he would never let him see how much it hurt.
“The skull wasn’t Luke,” Kelly repeated. “I’m so glad, Catherine.”
“So was I. I wanted to fall down at Eve’s feet this morning when she brought me in to see the reconstruction.” Catherine poured a cup of coffee from the fresh pot that Natalie had just made. “But the problem still exists. I have to find him.” She sat down at the table. “We can’t just wait for him to call and hope that he’ll let something slip or give us our chance.”
Kelly nodded as she lifted her orange juice to her lips. “The surveillance report. I’m doing the best I can. You’re reading it, too. You can see that there isn’t anything that you can put your finger on.”
“I thought you said there was always a pattern.”
“The pattern is there, but it’s hard to define.” Kelly frowned thoughtfully. “But lately I’ve thought I’ve caught glimpses.”
Catherine tensed. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve tried to fill in Rakovac’s background, so that I could get a handle on him. In the past nine years he’s been involved in all sorts of corruption. Bribing of officials in the Russian Parliament, drugs, vice, arms deals. His manipulation of the members of the parliament is what made him golden in the eyes of the U.S. Congress. He seems to have a magic touch where that kind of dealing is concerned. He used bribery, intimidation, even murder to get what he wanted from them.”
“Which is why Ali Dabala hired him to set up his Armageddon project.”
Kelly nodded. “He came highly qualified.”
“But none of this is doing us any good,” Catherine said impatiently. “I read the reports of the agents shadowing him and every meeting he’s had with his so-called clients was purely business. They were all checked out, and none of them had anything to do with Luke. It’s as if once he took my son, Luke no longer existed.” Her