“Don’t look it.”
“I suppose we’re getting somewhere, then.”
“I can’t quite see you cooped up in an office twelve hours a day.”
“It’s not so bad.”
“Maybe you’ll be the one who does something about it.”
“About what?”
“Everything. Greed. Corruption. Cronyism. The yawning chasm of income inequality that threatens to bring the world to the brink of revolution.”
“Right now I’m just looking forward to doing my job.”
“A company man. A factotum.”
“You show no mercy, do you?”
“I don’t know about that.” She stepped closer to him, so close he could smell her perfume, count the lashes above her eyes. “I’m always on the lookout for someone to bring over to my side.”
Simon laughed. “A true believer.”
She flinched, and he noted the flash in her eyes, the flush of her cheeks. “Someone had better be.”
“Do true believers go out for drinks?”
“Not with the enemy.”
“Not yet, I’m not. There’s still a chance.”
“You know…I just think there might be.”
“I’m Simon. Simon Riske.”
“Delphine. Delphine Blackmon.”
She extended her hand, and he couldn’t help but notice the chic watch hanging from her wrist. A Rolex Oyster. De rigueur for every crusading do-gooder.
Eleven years.
A heartbeat.
Simon watched Delphine descend the stairs and walk along the path toward the river, her face visible only intermittently, on and off like an old-time flicker as light from one lamp and then another fell upon it. She looked thinner, sharper, her hair cut shorter, blonder, dyed now. Her posture was more erect, her step too confident, trying to be something. A woman where before there’d been a girl.
He stepped from the shadows. “Hello, Dee.”
Delphine Blackmon halted, hand to her chest. “You startled me.”
Simon kept an eye over her shoulder. He caught no sign of anyone following but knew better than to trust himself. He was still wondering about the white Nissan and its blond driver. “I’m sorry. Precautions.”
“So this is what you do now?”
“Not exactly.”
Delphine stepped closer as if drawn against her will, a hand rising to his cheek. Abruptly, it fell to her side. Past was past. “How is he?”
“We need to get him out,” said Simon.
