Tunnel Vision (26 page)

I-t i-s J-a-k-e. H-e-l-p m-e.

He looks around, quick—are the
durnoy glaz
watching? Is this a trick? There is no one near. “Malchik?” he whispers. “Is that you?”

His fingers flip the page, cramp again to write. He watches, fascinated.

Y-E-S! Alive. Locked in—Montauk.

I’m losing myself, sticking too much, too deep, like I did with Liesel. I have to pull away, and I don’t know if I can get back. I have one or two more seconds.

Need HELP. Later …

I jerk away, as hard as I can, and make it. I’m confused by the white above me, the bright white. Brighter than it should be … the lights.

The lights are on.

I sit up, fast. Liesel stands by the door, hands clasped in front of her, eyes on me.

“Oh,” I say, my breath coming fast. “Bad dream.”

“Yes. You were making … noises.” Her eyebrows curve. “I thought we’d talked about sleeping in the afternoon.”

“If you don’t have work for me to do, I assume my time is my own,” I snap. I swing my legs around. “It’s not like there are a lot of options.”

“Yes.” She clicks slowly forward, stops about a foot away. “We should talk about that too. You’ve stopped going to the gym altogether, and you never went to chapel. On your downtime, you sleep. You haven’t made any progress with Dr. Tenney in a long time. Frankly, I am concerned. My oversight committee is concerned.”

“You have an
oversight
committee? Like people who know I’m here and
allow it
?”

She frowns. “Of course. Even classified programs have oversight, Jacob. You were brought here for your safety. You agreed. There’s nothing illegal about it.”

Except for all the lying, and misrepresentation, and manipulation. Entrapment, I think it’s called. I stand, the floor cool on my bare feet, and take a step toward the door. “So I can leave, then, whenever I want?”

She smiles, and I really want to punch her. “No. You’re an intelligence asset of the U.S. government, and the subject of an ongoing study. You know far too much about us to leave, and you’re very aware of that. You’re here for national security now, as well as your own.”

My security … big, fat-ass liar. I close my eyes, clench my fists to keep from saying something I shouldn’t. One … two … three. Think of Dedushka fishing. That speck of hope. “Why are we talking about this again?”

She blinks. “You asked. And my oversight committee is concerned with your continuing mental health and happiness. As I am.”

“You want me to be
happy
?” I ask, incredulous.

“Content. Productive. Stable. Yes, Jacob. I have always wanted that. You should be nearing that point by now, settling in. But you’re not.” She tilts her head. “What can we do to help?”

“Let me go outside,” I answer. “Let me breathe the goddamned air.”

“Possibly…” she says, low. She frowns. “I have resisted the idea, for security reasons. But a guarded visit to a secure, isolated area…” Her eyes come up to mine. “Possibly. The committee also had this on their options list.” Her voice softens, the honey voice I barely remember. “It has never been my goal to make you miserable, Jacob. The happier you are here, the better your work. And that’s best for all of us. Your work benefits
all
of us.”

She stares at me with her bleached-grass eyes, steady, like she’s going to say something else. Maybe tell me she knows about the hallucinations, instead of letting me think I’m insane?

She turns and leaves without another word.

I plop onto the bed, triumphant. I could get to Dedushka—I did. I just have to do it again.

*   *   *

At 5:30 a.m. I click the alarm off before it beeps, alerts anyone. I’m already awake.

I imagine Dedushka pushing out the boat, bundled in his jacket. Using the oars, because he always uses the oars instead of the motor in the early morning, so he doesn’t startle the fish. I imagine him at a good spot not too far off the shore, unhooking the gold lure, making the first cast. Reeling. Casting again.

It falls into place, and I’m there. The same place, Lac Bromont.

It’s chilly, the sun starting its rise over Iron Hill to the east. No matter. The bugs are rising too, and fishing will be good. He’s eaten all his trout. He needs more today.

And Yakob. Will Yakob come? He has the big notepaper ready, in case.

Put the pole down, Dedushka, I think. Go to the paper.

He sets the pole down, without question. The little voice! Yakob? The paper. There is a big yellow pad, a fresh pencil ready, laid next to him on the seat. The pencil … here. In his fingers.

Dedushka,
I write painstakingly, slowly.
Love
.

“Yakob,” he says aloud, gruff. I feel the tears well up in him, his rough hand brush at his eyes. “You are all right?”

His hand writes.

Yes. Don’t have long. Must escape.

It takes so much effort to write, to focus his fingers. I’m already feeling heavy.

He nods, speaks to the air. “I have called friends, found out about this Montauk CIA base. I have a plan. It will get us together for a meet, at a place of my choosing. They cannot help but bite on it. If you can do this, with me, perhaps you can…?”

He doesn’t finish, but I know what’s in his mind. Perhaps I can get us away, if he can get me outside, get me to him.

Yes,
I write. I
will
make it work.
What do I need to do?

“Nothing, malchik.” He strokes his beard, over and over, the hair wiry under his hand. “I will do the first part. What is the name of your control? The leader.”

I take his hand again, write.

Dr. Liesel Miller.
Then:
Must go. Thank you.

“My love, Yakob,” he whispers. “Pray to God, but continue to row for shore. We will be together soon.”

I pull away, with a lurch, back into the room.

I’d forgotten that saying. Dad used to say it all the time, even though he stopped going to temple. Now I know where he got it from. And it does fit perfectly. Hope, yes, but make it happen yourself. Put that together with the other thing that’s been repeating through my head the past couple days.

We Lukins stick together like glue.

Together we can make it through.

Anywhere we choose to roam,

Together we will make it home.

Dedushka is a Lukin, and so am I. I have no idea what his plan is, how he can force Liesel to arrange a meet. I’ll spy on her in the next couple of days to see. And I’ll come up with my own plan for what to do once there. I already have an idea.

Whatever happens, I’m not alone anymore. Together we will make it home.

God, I hope so.

30

“Caught” by Descendents

The next morning, during our usual tunnel session, Eric stops midmovement. He sets down the bag he’s holding, his expression intent. It reminds me of Bunny. He listens for a long time, eyes trained on me. I wait, silent.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says quietly. “Understood.”

He sets the bag in the metal box, leaves his hand there. Still staring me down.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“Stand, please,” he says.

I sit back. It has to be Dedushka. Did he really work that fast? What did he do?

“Stand,” Eric repeats, voice frozen. “Now. Hands behind your back.”

It’s the look he gave me in the parking lot after my ride with Dedushka. I swallow and stand slowly. “What
is
it, Eric?”

“Hands behind your back!” he shouts.

I snap my hands together behind my back. He takes a zip tie out of the box, strides over to me, and hauls it tight over my wrists, cuffing me. Too tight, pinching. I flinch, but don’t say a word. I don’t know what’s going on yet. I don’t want to make it worse.

He sticks his hand in each of my pockets, like Liesel did before. He leaves them turned inside out, empty. Then he unlatches my watch and tugs it off.

“No!” I say, hoarse. “Don’t take that. Please.”

He tugs a chair away from the table, sets it in the middle of the room. “Sit. Don’t move until I come back.”

I sit on the chair, facing the door, hands awkward behind my back. Bare, without Dad’s watch.

“Yes, ma’am,” Eric says. “On my way.”

He leaves. I wait, silent, mind flipping through possibilities. Whatever Dedushka did isn’t starting out well. Clearly they suspect me of secret tunneling, of collusion … of something. I can’t tunnel to anyone to find out what, why. I’m blind. Pinned in this chair. I stare up at the camera, like it will tell me something.

But there’s nothing I can do but wait.

*   *   *

It feels like hours before the door opens and Liesel stalks in, followed by Eric and two guards. I’m cramped, sore, and I have to piss. I don’t mention any of that. I lift my chin.

“Want to tell me what’s going on?”

“Be quiet,” Liesel snaps. “Don’t make me gag you.”

I press my lips together. Okay, then. Things aren’t better.

“Search it,” she says, with a wave around the room. “Search all of it. Behind the drawers, in the clothes, the sheets, mattresses, inside the toilet. Inside the drain. Everything. Show me anything you find that’s even slightly out of the ordinary.”

Oh.
Crap
.

I keep my mouth shut, eyes on her. The guards, two twenty-something guys, one black, one pasty white, start turning everything over. They don’t look at me. Eric stands behind Liesel, arms crossed.

Liesel is pure ice. “You want to know what happened, Jacob? I’ll tell you what happened.” She paces, in a tight oval. Her fingers tap against her skirt as she walks. “I was quite surprised to have a call this morning from a Mr. Grigory Lukin.” She pauses, gauges my expression—carefully blank—then starts up again. “He knew my name. He knew I was here, in Montauk, in a secret facility. More to the point, he knew
you
were here, and alive, in our custody.” Another pause. “How would he know that, Jacob?”

I don’t move.

“I’ll answer for you, shall I? There are two ways he could know that. One: he tracked you here after all. I don’t know why he’s been quiet all these months, but that’s not my primary concern. Two: you told him somehow. You tunneled to him, and you told him.”

Pause. I focus on my breaths, keeping them even. Stare at the table behind her.

“My guess is you used that watch we should never have let you keep. I take the blame for that. But I am going to make damn sure you don’t have anything else squirreled away in here. And that you never see that watch, or anything personal, again.”

I grit my teeth, meet her gaze. It slices right through me.

“But wait, there’s
more,
” she says, fake cheerful. “What did Mr. Grigory Lukin want? Why, he
demanded
that he have an in-person meeting with you, off-site. To make sure you were being treated well. Not abused, or tortured, or ‘made to do anything unsavory.’” She snorts. “Does this place look like you’re being abused or tortured? No. It’s not luxury, I’ll give you that. But video games and tennis, for God’s sake.”

My eyes go to Eric. He’s as stone faced as I am.

“If he’s satisfied that you’re okay, after he’s talked to you, he’ll deign to let you remain with us,
safe
. And if I refuse to accede to this demand? He’ll tell the press about you, about this program, and this place. He’ll tell your family you’re alive, and they’ll start a legal process to wrest you away from us. Revealing all our secrets in the process. What do you think of that, Jacob Lukin? What do you think of the
balls
of that?”

I don’t answer. She clenches her fists tightly. But she doesn’t hit me. Now wouldn’t be a good time to start hitting me.

It is pretty ballsy. He knows they’re looking for him, that they’ve tried to trace him. But he walks right up to them anyway, from a position of strength. Demanding a meeting.

Also, he’s throwing himself in as bait. He knows if they don’t give in based on the threat, they might based on the temptation. If they can take him too, they’ll have both Lukins in one swoop, threat wiped out.

I just hope if they go through with the meeting, I really can get us out of there.

The pasty guard yanks off the sheets. I try to keep my gaze away from him.

“I can’t believe you,” Liesel hisses. “The pair of you. I’ve treated you well, Jacob. I’ve done my best for you, in difficult circumstances. I’ve protected you. Who the
hell
do you think you are?”

“Ma’am? You’ll want to see this.”

He’s tugged the top mattress off, and there’s my cache.

I close my eyes. I don’t want to see her face, Eric’s.

“My
pen
?” Her voice goes soft, dangerous. “Dr. Tenney’s notebook? You
were
spying on me. Us. How did you get these?”

I stay perfectly still.

The click of a safety. The cool metal of a gun muzzle presses against my temple. “Answer her,” Eric says.

There’s a long silence, my heartbeat deafening in my ears.

“You’re not going to shoot me.” My voice is quiet, but clear with truth. They won’t kill me, not now. Not for this. They have too much to lose.

The moment stretches forever.

“Put it away,” Liesel says. “I can’t stand to deal with him right now.”

The gun is lifted away, and I open my eyes.

She picks up the pen and notebook and waggles them in front of me. “Gone.” She turns to Eric. “Stay here while they finish searching. He may have more. Then take everything out—everything—and come see me in my office.”

She slams her key in the door and leaves.

Eric sets the safety back on but keeps the gun in his hand. Ready.

The guard slides the mattress back in place, and I have a small flicker of satisfaction. They didn’t find Eric’s object.

“I would shoot you,” Eric says casually. “If she told me to. Just so we have that straight. What you did, stealing? Spying? That was uncalled for.”