Sixty days and counting - Kim Stanley Robinson [33]
“I guess them showing up so soon suggests I tipped them off somehow,” he said.
“Yes.” She was looking at the sail.
“I’m sorry. I thought I needed to warn you.”
Her mouth stayed tight. She said nothing.
The minutes dragged, but Frank’s watch showed that only eight had passed when they came to the south end of the lake. There were a couple of big houses tucked back in the forest to the left. Caroline pulled the tiller and boom line and brought them into the beach next to the pump house, executing a bravura late turn that hooked so hard Frank was afraid the iceboat might be knocked on its side. Certainly a windsurfer or catamaran would have gone down like a bowling pin. But there was nothing for the iceboat to do but groan and scrape and spin, into the wind and past it, then screeching back, then stopping, then drifting back onto the beach.
“Hurry,” Caroline said, and jumped out and ran up to Frank’s van.
Frank followed. “What about the boat?”
She grimaced. “We have to leave it!” Then, when they were in his van: “I’ll call Mary when I can get a clean line and tell her where it is. I’d hate for Harold’s boat to be lost because of this shit.” Her voice was suddenly vicious.
Then she was all business, giving Frank directions; they got out to a paved road and turned right, and Frank accelerated as fast as he dared on the still frozen road, which was often in shadow, and seemed a good candidate for black ice. When they came to a T-stop she had him turn right. “My car’s right there, the black Honda. I’m going to take off.”
“Where?”
“I’ve got a place. I’ve got to hurry, I don’t want them to see me at the bridge. You should head directly for the bridge and get off the island. Go back home.”
“Okay,” Frank said. He could feel himself entering one of his indecision fugues, and was grateful she had such a strong sense of what they should do. “Look, I’m sorry about this. I thought I had to warn you.”
“I know. It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. It was good of you to try to help. I know why you did it.” And she leaned over and gave him a quick peck of a kiss before she got out.
“I was pretty sure my van is clean,” Frank said. “And my stuff too. We checked all of it out.”
“They may have you under other kinds of surveillance. Satellite cameras, or people just tailing you.”
“Satellite cameras? Is that possible?”
“Of course.” Annoyed that he could be so ignorant.
Frank shrugged, thinking it over. He would have to ask Edgardo. Right now he was glad she was giving him directions.
She came around the van and leaned in on his side. Frank could see she was angry.
“You’ll be able to come back here someday,” he said.
“I hope so.”
“You know,” he said, “instead of holing up somewhere, you could stay with people who would keep you hidden, and cover for you.”
“Like Anne Frank?”
Startled, Frank said, “Well, I guess so.”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t stand it. And I wouldn’t want to put anyone else to the trouble.”
“Well, but what about me? I’m staying with the Khembalis in almost that way already. They’re very helpful, and their place is packed with people.”
Again she shook her head. “I’ve got a Plan C, and it’s down in that area. Once I get into that I can contact you again.”
“If we can figure out a clean system.”
“Yes. I’ll work on that. We can always set up a dead drop.”
“My friends from the park live all over the city—”
“I’ve got a plan!” she said sharply.
“Okay.” He shook his head, swallowed; tasted blood at the back of his throat.
“What?” she said.
“Nothing,” he said automatically.
“Something,” she said, and reached in