The Name of the Star - Maureen Johnson [117]
“It’s all right,” Stephen said.
“We have some business to finish to clear this matter up,” Thorpe continued. “We require assurance that this matter is at an end.”
“It is,” Stephen said.
“You’re quite sure, Mr. Dene? Were you present?”
“Rory was.”
“Miss Deveaux, can you say without question that the . . . person . . . known as the Ripper is no longer with us?”
“He’s gone,” I said.
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure,” I said. “I saw it happen. Jo took the terminus and . . .”
“And what?”
I looked at Stephen.
“They’re both gone,” I said.
“Both?” Mr. Thorpe said.
“Another . . . someone we work with.”
“One of them?” Mr. Thorpe said.
Just the way he said it made me hate him.
“The threat has been neutralized,” Stephen said evenly.
Mr. Thorpe sized us both up for a minute. Before, someone like him would have scared me to death. Now, he was nothing. A man in a suit, living and breathing.
“You must understand . . .” Mr. Thorpe bent down to speak to me. He’d overdone it on the breath mints. “ . . . that it’s not in your best interests to discuss what happened to you tonight. In fact, we must insist that you do not. Not with your friends, your family, any religious counselors or mental health professionals. The latter would be most detrimental to you personally, as your account would be interpreted as delusional. Furthermore, you have become involved with an agency covered by the Official Secrets Act. You are bound by law to remain silent. We think it’s best that you remain in the United Kingdom for the time being, while this affair is being sorted out. Should you choose to return to the United States, you will still remain bound by this law, due to the special relationship between our two countries.”
Mr. Thorpe looked to the man in the doorway, who nodded back.
“You must realize talking about this won’t help anyone,” Mr. Thorpe said, softening his tone just a bit in a way that felt very deliberate. “The best thing you can do is return to school and continue with your life.”
The brown-suited man took his phone from his pocket and started typing something in. He walked out of the room, still typing away.
“Constable Dene,” Mr. Thorpe said as he straightened up, “we’ll be in touch, of course. Your superiors are very pleased with your performance in this matter. Her Majesty’s government thanks you both.”
He didn’t waste any more time on good-byes. He was gone as quickly as he had arrived.
“What just happened?” I asked.
Stephen pulled a chair over to my bedside and sat down.
“The cleanup is starting. They have to create a story the public can handle. The panic has to end. All the loose ends have to be tied.”
“And I can never tell anyone?”
“That’s the thing about what we do . . . We can’t tell anyone. It would simply seem insane.”
For some reason, this is what did it. This is what made all the fears of the last days and the last hours come to the surface. I let out a sob. It was so loud and sudden that Stephen actually startled and stood up. I began crying uncontrollably, heaving. I don’t think he knew what to do for a moment, it was such an onslaught.
“It’s all right,” he said, putting his hand on my arm and squeezing a bit. “It’s over now. It’s over.”
My wailing drew the attention of the nurse, who snapped the curtain back.
“All right?” she asked.
“Can you do something to make her comfortable?” he said.
“Are you finished with your questions?”
“We’re done,” he said.
“It’s been four hours since her last dose, so that’s fine. Give me a moment.”
The nurse went away for a moment, returning with a syringe. She injected its contents into a bit of tubing coming off my IV line. I felt a tiny rush of something cool coming into my vein. I took a few more sips of the water, gagging and coughing a bit before I could get them down like a normal person.
“Nasty wound,” the nurse said quietly. “I hope you catch whoever did that.”
“We did,” Stephen said.
After a minute or two, I felt myself slowly calming, and I had a strong desire to close my eyes. The tears were still running down my face, but