Blind (16 page)

Gaia was gone.

She didn't like guns, but she had to admit that the weapon felt comforting.

IT WAS STILL AWFULLY EARLY FOR A Saturday, but the park was already coming alive. Kids were moving up and down the slides, their heavy coats making them look like little polar bears playing at the zoo. Vendors were setting up the hot dog carts. Steam rose from the metal pans and frosted bottles of ketchup and sliced pickles. Across the sidewalk the chess players were already starting to assemble. Ed had to give them credit. As far as he was concerned, this was prime sleeping time.

However, Tatiana didn't seem to work on his schedule. She had been on the phone before seven, insisting that they go out and see the park Ed had talked about. Ed glanced over at her as he made his way along the sidewalk toward the arch at the center of the park. It didn't matter how pretty she was: if Tatiana turned out to be a morning person, he might have to kill her.

“I think maybe I like this place better than Central Park,” said Tatiana. She stopped, flipped open her sketchbook, and made a few strokes on the paper. “It's not so large, but it's prettier.”

“And Washington Square Park is eighty percent less likely to get you killed,” Ed replied.

Tatiana looked at him with a puzzled expression for
a moment, then laughed. They walked on, passing under the arch and on toward the tables where the chess players passed the time. Two middle-aged men were in the middle of a game. Ed didn't have to watch them long to see that neither of them was really much of a player. Gaia could have taken either one out in five minutes.

A couple of the regulars, including the Pakistani cabdriver that Gaia used to play, were set up at tables by themselves. These practiced pros craned their necks, looking for anyone who might be willing to play a friendly game. Say for twenty dollars. Fifty, maybe, but only if you insisted.

“Who is that?” Tatiana asked.

Ed followed her pointing hand. Down at the end of the row of tables a very old man limped to his place. The gray-haired man carefully dusted the bench with a handkerchief before slowly sitting. Then he pulled out a red plastic figurine and perched it on the side of the table before setting down a worn chessboard and getting out the pieces.

“That's Zolov,” said Ed. “He's a little off, but he plays good chess.”

“Off?”

“Crazy.” Ed did the finger-at-the-side-of-the-head twirl and wondered if it meant the same thing in Russian.

“Oh,” said Tatiana. “But he has a very interesting face.”

She sat down at a bench across the walk from the chess tables and began to sketch on her pad. Ed moved around to stand behind her. He watched in fascination as her slim, elegant fingers moved rapidly over the paper. There was a soft, constant scratch of the pencil. Tatiana's head was tilted a bit to the left, her mouth slightly open as she concentrated on her work, the tip of her pink tongue pressed against her teeth. She glanced up from time to time and watched as the old Ukrainian finished off his first opponent of the day.

As her pencil moved, Ed saw Zolov and the park around him gradually come to life on the page. Tatiana captured the trees in the background, the couples strolling in the distance, and even the tense concentration on Zolov's face as his wrinkled, rawboned hand reached out to advance a pawn. Every movement of Tatiana's pencil hand seemed to add more texture, more depth, more emotion to the simple black-and-white scene.

Finally she stopped, took one last look at the old chess player, then looked over her shoulder at Ed. “What do you think?” she asked.

Ed shook his head in wonder. “I think it's a classic,” he said.

“Better than the skateboard?”

Ed rolled his eyes. “Very close.”

Tatiana smiled at him. She grabbed the edge of the
paper and pulled it out of the pad. Then she stood and strolled down the sidewalk toward Zolov. Ed followed her, but not too closely. He saw Tatiana sit down at the bench and heard her say something in Russian.

The old man's eyes brightened. He replied to Tatiana with enthusiasm. His hands went out in sweeping gestures that took in the whole park, then in smaller moves about the battered chess set. Tatiana held out the sketch to Zolov. He took the paper and studied it for several seconds, his thick gray eyebrows drawn together. Then he suddenly leaned back in his seat and thrust the paper back to Tatiana.

For a moment Ed thought that the old man was upset, but as Tatiana walked away, he flashed a gap-toothed smile. “You come back soon,” he called. “We play a game together!”

“I will,” said Tatiana. She gave the man a little wave, then walked over to join Ed. “He liked my picture.”

“Of course he did,” said Ed. “After all, we're talking masterpiece. What did you say to him?”

Tatiana shrugged her thin shoulders. “That he was a good player. That he would do well playing the men in Gorky Park.” She shrugged again. “I said some other things, but they weren't important.”

Ed glanced at Zolov. The old man was still smiling. “They may not have been important to you, but they
meant something to him. I think you're his new best friend. I've seen that guy in the park for years, and I've never seen him look this happy.”

Tatiana bobbed her head, and a flush came over her cheeks. It took Ed a moment to realize she was blushing. “Come on,” she said. “Don't we have more sights to see?”

Ed nodded, but he wasn't thinking about sights. He was thinking that Tatiana was perfect. She was funny and kind, and she liked Ed. He was thinking that even if he did still love Gaia Moore, nothing was ever going to come of that love. It was time to move on. It was time to take steps toward having that life A.G. he'd been thinking about. He reached up with one arm and pulled Tatiana up toward him. He pulled her face close to his with more force than he had intended until their lips were pressed together. Then he was kissing Tatiana, and it was all good.

GAIA STUMBLED THROUGH THE DOOR of the apartment. She stood at the bottom of the stairs, swaying on her feet. It had been nearly thirty-six hours since she had slept. Pure emotion had kept her on her
feet, but emotion was also draining. She felt hollow. Used up. Like a paper cup left along the roadway. But she didn't dare sleep. Not when she knew that they were watching her every minute. Not when she was right in the home of her father's betrayer.

Before she rested, she had to stop Loki.

If Natasha was a spy, that only made the job more important. More vital. Her father could be lured to his death at any moment. He might already be dead. No. She couldn't think that way.

Gaia turned toward the stairs and plodded upward. Find Loki. Find him soon. End it. Those thoughts had been running through her head for hours as the sky brightened between the big buildings and the nighttime turned into brilliant day. But hadn't she already been consumed by these thoughts for months?

She could pretend to have a normal life. That was a lie. She could pretend to be Bat-Gaia, beating up muggers and protecting the innocent. But that was a lie, too. She could slave over breaking some random code. Lie. She could be cruel to Ed or love him. It was all a lie.

The truth was that she had been running away. Gaia had hurried out to face a hundred fights, but she had been running away from the only fight that counted. She had been avoiding facing Loki and ending this once and for all.

She might be fearless, but at that moment she considered herself a coward.

Step one: Face Loki.

No, that wasn't right. To face him, she had to find him. Her uncle might reply to her e-mail and set up a meeting, but he might not. Even if he did, it might take days. Gaia couldn't wait. She needed to force things to happen. Now.

Okay, that was easy. If she couldn't find Loki, she could certainly find his spy. His assistant. The heartless bitch whom he had sent to catch her father. She could get
Natasha.
Then she would force Natasha to take her to Loki.

Gaia walked toward Natasha's room, blinking away sleep at each step. The bed was still neat. No one had slept here.

She probably spent the night with Loki. She must be sleeping with him. Convincing my father that she loves him, then sleeping with Loki.
The thought should have made her furious, but she was too tired for fury She needed a plan. She needed a way to capture Natasha and make her reveal everything she knew about Loki.

Gaia crossed the room and bent down to open the bottom drawer of the dresser. The gun was still there. She took it out, weighing the solid feel of it in her hand. She didn't like guns, but she had to admit that the weapon felt comforting. When Natasha saw the black hole of the barrel pointed her way, she
would talk. But Gaia didn't intend to shoot Natasha. That she would save for Loki.

As she started to stand, Gaia caught a glimpse of the nightstand. The stand where the letters were hidden. All at once tears were streaming down her cheeks again. This time her throat didn't just get tight. Gaia exploded.

“Idiot!” she shouted at herself. “Did you think it could have a happy ending? Did you think someone could ever love you?” She tossed back her head and let the pain carry her past words, until her throat was raw with her sobbing and the tears dripped from the point of her chin.

It had only been a dream. A dream that was gone as quickly as it came. Gaia and her father and Natasha and Tatiana. All together like a family. It was only a dream. A stupid dream. Nothing worth crying over.

Only she couldn't stop.

Until she heard a sound coming from the stairway.

Gaia swallowed her last sob and stood statue still. In the sudden silence her ears rang and her heart beat in her throat.

A footstep on the stairs. Another.

She raised the gun. Two-hand stance. One foot pushed slightly back. Well balanced. Just as her father had taught her.

Another step.

Gaia aimed the gun at the level of the doorknob. Waist-level for Natasha. That was another of her father's instructions. Always keep a gun aimed at the center of the body. Don't go for anything fancy like a head shot; just make sure you connect with the target. If Natasha rushed her, Gaia could drop the gun and fight. If Natasha was carrying a weapon, Gaia could shoot. She was ready.

The footsteps reached the top of the stairs and started down the short hallway. Gaia waited.

A tall figure stepped into the doorway. At first Gaia was confused. She saw only a trench coat and legs. She raised her eyes. “Dad?” she said softly. The man took one step into the room, and Gaia instantly knew the truth. She raised the gun to point at his chest. “What a coincidence. I was just thinking about you.”

The man stopped. He raised his hands slightly, like someone making a joke about being arrested. “I would appreciate it if you'd point that somewhere else,” he said.

Gaia kept her aim. “I don't think so, Uncle Oliver. Oops, I mean, Loki.”

Oliver shook his head. “I'm not a killer.” He took another step.

With one quick movement of her thumb Gaia brought back the hammer on the revolver. The chambers of the pistol turned, lining up a
bullet to the barrel with a satisfying, solid click. “Stop. There.”

Oliver stopped.

“What are you doing here?” asked Gaia. “Looking for your partner? Your girlfriend?”

“I was looking for you.” Oliver slowly lowered his hands. “I have something very important I need to tell you.”

Gaia laid her finger against the trigger. It didn't matter what he said. She knew Oliver was Loki. He had to be. This was the chance she had been waiting for. One pull of the trigger, and Loki was gone. “I don't want to hear anything you have to say.”

“It's about your father.”

The revolver was instantly twice as heavy in her hands, and the air in the room turned thick. Gaia let her hand drop a few inches as she struggled to get in enough air to talk. “Has something happened to my father?”

“Not exactly.” Oliver looked at her with an expression that Gaia couldn't begin to read. “Gaia, I know this is going to be hard for you, but things weren't always perfect between Katia and my brother. I think they were truly in love at first, and at the end. But that love wasn't constant through all the years of their marriage.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Gaia. “Is my father all right?”

Oliver nodded. “So far as I'm aware, my brother is fine. I believe he's right here in the city.”

Gaia brought the gun back up. “Are you holding him hostage?”

“Nothing of the sort.” The idea seemed to shock Oliver. “Gaia, you have some extraordinary ideas about me.”

This was the time. If her father was safe, Gaia could take out Loki now and make sure he stayed safe. There might be more agents out there, but without Loki they wouldn't be a threat. Cut off the head, kill the snake. She aimed carefully.

“Gaia,” Oliver said slowly. “There was a period about eighteen years ago in which Tom and Katia were separated.”

Her finger tightened on the trigger.

“During that time I went to Katia. At first I was only trying to comfort her, but later…” He shrugged. “Later it became something more.”

The hammer of the revolver began to pull back above the firing pin.

“When Tom and Katia got back together, we were both very careful never to mention our time together. But Gaia, there's something you have to know.”

Squeeze evenly. Don't jerk. Keep your aim.

“Gaia,” said Oliver. “I'm your father.”

The small sight at the front of the gun was
centered on his chest. Her finger was tight against the trigger. One more pound of pressure. One more ounce, and Loki would be dead.

Gaia closed her eyes and pulled the trigger.