First Light (8 page)

I felt Kalen sit down beside me. His fingers intertwined with mine. More tears overflowed from my eyes and dropped on his hand. I stared at them without blinking.

‘It’s okay, Red,’ he whispered into my hair as he pulled me closer to him. ‘Everything’s going to be okay.’

The small act of kindness was too much for me and I could no longer fight it. I let him pull me into his embrace and let out what I had pent up for the last five and a half months. Tears flooded, thick and fast, my breathing escaping in uncontrolled sobs.

I wasn’t sure how long we sat that way, but he held me tightly as what felt like an ocean flowed out of me. At some point, though I don’t remember the exact moment, I fell asleep.

France – May 2003

He spent his thirteenth birthday at an airport in Paris, accompanied by two thirty-something adults whom he’d never met.

‘Mom, can I carry my own bag?’

‘Of course, dear, be careful you don’t lose it okay?’

‘Thanks, Mom.’

The immaculately dressed blonde woman smiled widely, showing a set of perfect veneers as she passed K his backpack.

‘Give the man your passport, son,’ said the tall dark-haired man as he nodded politely at the French border security. They passed through the gates with no problems and the man hailed a taxi to take them to their hotel. They rode the taxi in silence, apart from K asking if he could see the Eiffel Tower, to which the driver smiled and nodded enthusiastically. ‘It’s a beautiful structure. The tourists, they love to see it!’

‘Yes, this is our son’s first time. He’s always wanted to see Paris,’ the pretty lady gushed. Patting her fake son’s knee.

‘You are American, yes?’

‘Yes, that’s right, from Baltimore,’ she replied with an overtly sweet smile. K stared out of the window. He’d done his bit; the phony conversation for the sake of the taxi driver could be limited now, all he wanted to do was get to the hotel and out of the company of the two actors, whom he found revolting.

The hotel was beautiful, of course. It was his first trip abroad so if he’d been a normal boy it would have been an exciting moment. He had, however, already memorised the layout of the hotel and a map of the city. He knew every street and side street as well as the hot spots for police activity. He wasn’t interested in croissants and coffee, all he cared about was the man staying in a room directly three floors above who would be checking-in to the hotel in less than thirty minutes. One thing at a time, every step accounted for – enjoyment was not part of the plan.

K stepped out onto the small ornate balcony and looked over it. As far as cities went, Paris was vastly different to any in America and almost sparked a glimmer of interest inside him. It evaporated quickly when someone spoke from inside the room.

‘We’ll escort you to the airport tomorrow at the agreed time.’

They didn’t wait for any acknowledgement or goodbye, but then, K didn’t offer any. He didn’t need to be told. He stared blankly as they left, closing the door behind them. When he was alone he unloaded his bag onto the bed: pants, vests, sneakers, a tennis ball and a Nintendo Gameboy – none of which belonged to him. Inside the casing of the console lay a small syringe. He pried the outer shell apart and took out the needle, placing it carefully on the bedside table before going to wash up.

When he returned to the grand room he sat on the edge of the bed and switched on the television. It was his first time and he could not deny he was nervous. He wouldn’t admit that to anyone, of course, but he had to make a conscious effort to keep his hands from trembling. After a few minutes of meditation, they became deathly still. He exhaled. Trying to focus on something else to pass the time, he looked at the picture in his passport and the name next to it:
Kalen Smith

It was the first time he’d seen a name next to his picture. He took a moment to consider how it made him feel. He wasn’t sure. Nerves were getting tiresome, but K knew if he couldn’t pull this off he would be no use to the unit. If he was no use to the unit, he was nothing – there was nothing else except the unit.

Thirty minutes passed; it was time. K took the syringe in his hand and slid it into the front pocket of his black sweater. Silently, he left the room.

He avoided the few cameras in the hotel without much trouble, gliding to the stairwell and up to the floor he wanted and moving swiftly along the typically French Damask corridor until he reached the room.

He entered using the key he had been given before he left the US and crept into the room. He could hear the shower. Perfect timing. He slipped into the bathroom, following the sound of running water.

Mistakes are to be learned from. If the result of that mistake is not death, then the lesson can be a useful tool for survival. The shower was empty. He hadn’t expected that. Of course, he shouldn’t have expected anything and he knew it. Could it be the brightest student in the whole team, the head of the class, the strongest, smartest and most able of all of them had forgotten the first rule of assassination on his first day on the job? Assumption was the mother of all…

He had something on his side though. Had he been an adult caught snooping in the apartment of such an important person, the man holding the gun to his head would have fired it without thinking twice. K would have been dead before he had a chance to turn and face his killer. His childlike frame, however, had prevented such a reaction.

K turned and let his eyes grow wide with faux fear.

‘What the hell are you doing in my room, kid?’ the American man bellowed, removing the safety on his Glock 23.

‘S-sorry, sir,’ Kalen stuttered, pushing a strand of his chin-length blond hair behind one ear, as he felt for the item stowed within his pocket. ‘I-I must have the wrong room. Sorry to have disturbed you, if you don’t mind, could you help me find my parents?’

The target lowered his weapon. It was the last thing he would ever do.

10 – Four More

My head felt as though it was cemented to the pillow, held down with lead weights.
At first I wondered what was happening. Was I ill? Had I hurt myself? Then the evening’s events dripped slowly back into my mind and the reason for my pain became clear. I had a hangover.

Ergh!

For all the times I’d heard Rachel complain and thought she was overreacting, I said a silent apology.

I was closing my eyes again, when something stirred in my en-suite. At the exact same moment a disturbing thought crossed my mind:
I don’t remember getting to bed
. I shot upright, ignored my throbbing skull and yanking the quilt around me. Kalen walked casually out of the bathroom wearing nothing but his jeans.

‘Good morning,’ he said, sitting on the edge of the bed and flashing me a bright smile.

‘I’m half naked,’ I exclaimed dumbly, aware that all I had on was my underwear.

‘I undressed you.’

Desperately, my mind searched for a memory of what had happened, but everything was hazy. ‘That’s so rude! How dare you?’

‘It was necessary,’ he answered, as if my question was ridiculous. ‘You fell asleep, so I put you to bed. I promise, I hardly looked, and I slept on the floor.’

‘Oh my goodness!’ I wailed.

‘It’s okay, I’ve slept on worse.’

‘Kalen, that’s not what I meant.’

‘Call me Kal.’

That threw me. ‘Really? Do your friends call you that?’

‘No.’

‘Oh, well why –’ I closed my eyes, clutching the duvet. ‘Kalen, Kal, whatever, don’t try to confuse me. You can’t be here. You can’t stay over at a girl’s house or undress her without her permission!’

‘I’d better go then.’

‘Yes, you better had.’

He grinned widely and left the room. I listened to his footsteps as he went down the stairs and the slam of the front door. Finally sure he was gone, I leaped out of bed and looked in the mirror. Surprisingly, I didn’t look too bad for an evening of crying. I felt both relieved and ridiculous. I should have been mad, but somehow I couldn’t stop thinking about his firm and sculpted torso – tanned, strong and vastly more appealing than any of the boys at school. Mostly, I was picturing the large milky scar that ran from the base of his neck to the middle of his chest, almost like a continuation of the small one on his face. As I wondered what could have happened to him, my anger melted away.

The house phone rang, startling me out of my reverie. I answered it carefully; my whole body felt fragile. On the other end of the line, Mae sounded furious, hurling questions I didn’t want to answer. To buy some time, I invited her over. I used the minutes to take some painkillers and pull on some clothes. In my favourite tracksuit, I curled up on the sofa and waited.

When she arrived she stared at me with her arms folded. ‘So, are you gonna fill me in on the guy from the club last night? Was that Caleb?’

‘Kalen.’

My stomach churned and I didn’t know if it was from the mere mention of his name or an aftereffect of my alcohol-fueled night. ‘I told you the other day that I met him.’

‘Met him where?’

‘He was at Dad’s funeral.’

Her eyes grew wide, her mouth forming a little O. ‘That’s weird.’ She sat down. ‘Where was he? Did he know your dad?’

‘He was standing over by the lake. He stood watching for ages. And, I don’t know if he knew Dad. I think so.’

‘Um, hello? Have you asked him?’

‘Yes,’ I frowned. ‘But it’s complicated. Anyway, now I guess, we hang out sometimes.’ I shrugged, trying to make light of it.

‘What do you mean you
hang out
?’ she asked with exasperation. ‘Don’t you tell me anything any more? I can’t believe you’re falling for the whole bad-boy thing. How tacky.’

I sighed. ‘Have you ever had a problem with any of them?’

‘Well, no. But I’ve heard–’

‘Yeah, but have you ever noticed it’s always a friend, or a friend of a friend, who knows something about them? No one’s ever had a run in with the boys personally – it’s always someone they know. I dunno, I suppose I’d like to keep an open mind.’

‘Did he tell you what he does for a living?’

She had me there.

‘Exactly,’ she said, when I didn’t answer. ‘You’re only defending him because you think your dad knew him and you don’t want to believe your dad would have been mixed up in anything bad. But think about it, what do they do all day? Why don’t they work or go to school? Who are their parents?’

‘Look, I don’t know what he does, but I know it’s nothing to do with drugs after his reaction last night. Plus, he doesn’t even drink! And we don’t all have parents, do we?’ I retorted.

A blanket of awkward silence nestled itself between us. I could think of nothing else to say.

‘Fine,’ Mae continued eventually with a flick of her hand, ‘tell me about him then. What have you two been doing? What’s he like?’

I smiled, feeling my tension dissolve while I considered her words. I couldn’t describe what he was like, because I had no idea where to begin with anything deeper than aesthetic details. I said that he hadn’t told me much yet, but I was working up to finding out, which was mainly the truth.

She eyed my curiously before shaking her head and changing the subject. I wanted to be honest with her, though until I knew more about him myself I wasn’t sure how to do that.

***

When Mae left I decided to spend the evening cleaning. It would help keep my mind off of a certain hot, but potentially dangerous, boy whom I knew nothing about. Were Mae and Rachel right? Was he bad news? So far he’d been around when I needed him most, I couldn’t see what was so bad about that.

I brushed the thought away and spread some toast with a thick layer of Marmite. Not much of a dinner, but I didn’t see the point in cooking just for me. Once I’d swallowed it down I began to feel marginally better. I got some rubber gloves and cleaning spray from under the sink and took myself upstairs to the en-suite.