Fifty Degrees Below - Kim Stanley Robinson [122]
“I guess you did. And my cell phone?”
“They’re being recorded now too, but so far no one’s actually checking them. They’re just saved in your file. If you went up another level or two, they’d be there, and they’d get reviewed.”
“And what about my FOG phone?”
“No, not that one. Isn’t that just a walkie-talkie system?”
“Yeah.”
“Those only work off one tower. I have to call your cell, but I don’t like doing that anymore. I’m calling you from public phones, so someone would have to make a complete search of your file to find me, but I’m in there if they look hard enough. If someone knows my voice. . . Meanwhile, they can tell where you were when you got calls because of the towers involved.”
“So you know where I am?”
“To an extent. Your van is tagged too. I can see you’re spending time over near Rock Creek Park. Have you got a place over there?”
“Yes.”
“You must be renting a room? There aren’t any home arrangements showing. No water or electric or home phone or sewage.”
“No.”
“So you’re renting a room?”
“Like that, yes.”
She considered him. She squeezed his hand again. “I . . . well. I hope you trust me.”
“Oh I do. It’s just that I’m, I don’t know. Embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed?”
“Yes. Only not really.” He met her gaze. “I live in a tree house. I’m out in Rock Creek Park, living up in a little tree house I built.”
She laughed. Then she leaned in and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Good for you! Will you take me up to it sometime?”
“Oh yes,” he said, warming. “I’d like that very much.”
She was still leaning into him. They leaned, wordlessly feeling the pressure of arm against arm. Then they shifted, and suddenly were kissing.
It all came instantly back to him, how it felt. He fell headlong back into the space they had occupied when they were trapped in the elevator, as though the intervening months had vanished and they were back there again in an eternal now, passionately making out. Nowhere but in their little bubble universe.
After some indeterminate time, they paused for breath. Such intensity could not be maintained; it had to lead somewhere else, either forward to orgasm or backward to talk. And since they were out on a park bench; since there were still so many questions pricking at other parts of his mind; he fell back toward talk. He wanted to know more—
But then she pulled him back to her to kiss again, and obviously that was a much better idea. Passion blew through him again, sexual passion, my God who could explain it? Who could even remember what it was like?
Again it went on for some time, he couldn’t have said how long. The night was cold, her fingers were cool. The city rumbled around them. Distant siren. He liked the feel of her body under her clothes: ribby ribs, soft breasts. The iron solidity of her quads. She squeezed him, gasped and murmured a little, all through their kisses.
Again they came up for air.
“Oh my,” she said. She shifted on the bench, conformed herself to him like a cat.
“Yes.”
His questions slowly resurfaced. He looked down at her face, tucked against his shoulder.
“Are you staying with your friends again?”
“Yes.” She looked at her watch. “Uh oh.”
“What time is it?”
“Four.”
“Wow. The witching hour.”
“Yes.”
“When do you have to be back?”
“Soon.”
“And . . . look, is there some way I can call you? Is your phone tapped?”
“Maybe.” She hesitated. “I don’t want to use it for anything important.”
“Ah.” He thought about it. “There must be some protocols you guys use. . . .”
She shook her head quickly. “It really isn’t like that in my department. Although sure, there are methods. We could use phone cards and public phones.”
“We’d have to synchronize.”
“Right, but that’s part of the method.”
“Fridays at nine kind of thing.”
“Right. Let’s do that. Let’s find pay phones we think will work, maybe get a few numbers from a few in a row, so there would be alternates. We’ll share them next time I get a chance to call you, and after that we won’t be putting anything on your phone. You might get bumped up again any time, the way things are going in the market. You guys