Page 24 of Captain Santiago and the Sky Dome Waitress
“You’re late,” Blake murmured, as the computer dialed up the volume.
“Blame Charlton City Security,” Elijah replied, also in an undertone. “They’re too good at their job. I had to shake them loose first.”
“Blame yourself. You trained them,” Blake said. Then, “We must stop meeting like this, Lije.”
“Agreed.” His tone was strained.
Blake grew still. She stopped scanning the hall. Her head shifted, an aborted sideways movement, as if she had been about to look at him. Then she brought her gaze back to the pad. “You really mean that?”
Lucie wondered if anyone who had ever watched this video had caught the pain in her voice.
“I do,” Elijah said. “Here, take this. Swing your right hand back.”
Blake’s chest rose as she filled her lungs with air.
Relief. She sat back, as if she was relaxing, and let her hand swing down beside the chair.
Their hands touched. Brushed. Fingers tangled for a few electric heartbeats.
Then Blake brought her hand up to the table and rested it in front of the pad she was apparently reading. Then she shifted it out of the way. Looked down.
“My, my. The Royal Esplanade, Lije? You’re spoiling me.”
“A room is booked for the first of next month,” Elijah said. “They’re expecting us to arrive separately. We’re the Sangs.”
“TheSangs?” She pressed her lips together.
“You don’t like the name?”
“It’s…common.”
“That’s the point.”
“It doesn’t have any pizazz.”
“Would you rather be the Smiths?”
Blake grimaced. “That has even less virtue. Sang will do.”
Voices raised and cries of alarm pulled the focus of the security camera back to the hall in general, then zoomed in on black uniformed security people striding into the hall.
Charlton City Security.
“Time to go,” Blake said, picking up her pack.
“See you on the first, Mizz Sang.”
Blake paused, staring at her backpack to avoid the gazes of the approaching guards. The corner of her mouth turned up. Then she rose, swung the pack over her shoulder, and slipped swiftly across the hall to the nearest departure gantry.
Lucie didn’t bother panning the camera back to the tables. From the first time she had watched the video, she knew that Elijah had already gone.
“Again,” she said.
“Don’t you think you’ve watched it enough, Lucie?” Barney’s voice issued from the overhead speaker, not the screen itself.
Lucie put her bowl of soup on the floor with a soft thunk. “You’re spying on me?”
“You’ve watched that video thirteen times.”
