The City of Mirrors Page 157


“You bribed them.”

Michael seemed pleased. “As it happens, a little money changed hands, yes. Even in these troubled times, a man has to think about his family. That, plus nobody else had the stomach to bring you breakfast.” He nodded toward the cage. “Apparently, the little bundle of fur is somebody’s pet. Goes by Otis.”

Alicia allowed herself a good, long look at Michael. The boy she’d known was gone, replaced by a middle-aged man of sinewy hardness, compact and capable. His face had a chiseled look, nothing wasted. Though his eyes still possessed their twinkling, busy alertness, a darker aspect lay within them, more knowing: the eyes of experience, of a man who had seen things in his life.

“You’ve changed, Michael.”

He shrugged carelessly. “This is something I hear a lot.”

“How’ve you been keeping yourself?”

“Oh, you know me.” A cockeyed smile. “Just keeping the lights burning.”

“And Lore?”

“Can’t say that worked out.”

“Sorry to hear it.”

“You know how it goes. I got the potted plants, she took the house. For the best, really.” He angled his head at the floor again, where the caged rabbit was anxiously working its cheeks. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

She wanted to, very badly. The intoxicating scent of warm meat, warm life; the swish and throb of the animal’s blood surging through its veins, as if she’d cupped a seashell to her ear: her anticipation was intense.

“It’s not a pretty sight,” she said. “Probably best if I wait.”

For several seconds, they just looked at each other.

“Thanks for standing up for me last night,” Alicia said.

“No thanks necessary. Peter was way out of line.”

She searched his face. “Why don’t you hate me, Michael?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Everybody else seems to.”

“I guess I’m not everybody else then. You could say I don’t have a lot of fans in these parts myself.”

“I hardly believe that.”

“Oh, trust me. I’m lucky I’m not living down the hall.”

A smile, unbidden, rose to her lips; it was good to talk to a friend. “Sounds interesting.”

“That would be one word for it.” He placed the tips of his fingers together, a man making a point. “I always knew you were out there, Lish. Maybe the others gave up on you. But I never did.”

“Thanks, Circuit. That means something. That means a lot.”

He grinned. “Now, seeing as it’s you, I’ll let that nickname slide.”

“Talk to him, Michael.”

“I’ve made my opinion known.”

“What’s he going to do?”

He shrugged. “What Peter always does. Hurl himself at the problem until he bashes his way through it. I love the guy, but he’s a bit of an ox.”

“It won’t work this time.”

“No, it won’t.”

He was watching her intently—though, unlike Peter’s, his gaze held no suspicion. She was a confidante, a co-conspirator, a trusted part of his world. His eyes, his tone of voice, the manner in which his body occupied space: all radiated an undeniable force.

“I’ve thought a lot about you, Lish. For a long time, I believed I was in love with you. Who knows? Maybe I still am. I hope that doesn’t embarrass you.”

Alicia was dumbstruck.

“I see from your expression that this comes as a surprise. Just take it as a compliment, which is how it’s meant. What I’m saying is that you matter a great deal to me, and you always have. When you appeared last night, I realized something. Do you want to know what that was?”

Alicia nodded, still at a loss for words.

“I realized I’d been waiting for you all along. Not just waiting. Expecting.” He paused. “Do you remember the last time we saw each other? It was the day you came to visit me in the hospital.”

“Of course I do.”

“For the longest time I wondered: Why me? Why did Alicia pick me, of all people, at just that moment? I would have guessed Peter would be the one. The answer came to me when I thought about something you said. ‘Someday, that boy’s going to save our sorry asses.’ ”

“We were talking about when we were kids.”

“That’s right. But we were talking about a lot more than that.” He leaned forward. “Even then, you knew, Lish. Maybe not knew. But you felt it, the shape of things, just as I did. Just as I do now, sitting here twenty years later talking to you in a jail cell. Now, ‘why’ is another question. I don’t have an answer to that one and I’ve stopped asking. And as for how this is all going to play out, your guess is as good as mine. Given the general direction of the last twenty-four hours, I’m not especially optimistic. But either way, I can’t do this without you.”

The sound of tumblers; the guard appeared in the doorway. “Fisher, I said five minutes. You need to get the hell out of here.”

Michael reached into his shirt pocket and waved a wad of bills over his shoulder, not even bothering to look as the guard snatched it and skulked away.

“God, they’re idiots,” he sighed. “Do they actually think money’s going to be worth anything this time tomorrow?” He reached into his pocket again and removed a folded sheet of paper. “Here, take this.”

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