“Alfred Kropp,” Nueve said. “Boy adventurer, actuary.”
Samuel shoved the paper toward me. “I don’t want it.”
“Of course!” Nueve murmured.
“I will not take it, Alfred.”
“Why not?”
He tore the certificate in half, then in quarters, and let the pieces flutter to the floor around his bare feet.
“You are letting your fear get the best of you,” Samuel told me.
“Well,” Nueve said. “You have made your noble gesture, Senor Kropp, and the driver is waiting.”
“Hiding solves nothing, Alfred,” Samuel said. “You have not thought this through.” He turned to Nueve. “Leave us.”
“I will not,” Nueve said.
“There is something I must discuss with him and I will not discuss it with you here.”
Nueve lost his ironical grin. “I give you five minutes.” He turned to me. “Five minutes, Alfred Kropp, or you may consider our contract null and void.”
He left, popping the butt of his cane angrily against the linoleum. Samuel gestured for me to come closer. He tugged on the flowery sleeve of my dress, and I went to one knee beside the chair so he could look me straight in the eye.
“Alfred,” he said softly. “Do you know why I refused your touch in ICU?”
“No. It was stupid.”
“There is a reason you have been given this power, Alfred. Do you believe that?”
I thought about it. “Well, it seems pretty accidental to me the way it happened.”
He placed his huge hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “You are the beloved of the Archangel Michael, Alfred Kropp. You have been chosen by the Prince of Light himself. Turn your back on that choice and you turn your back on heaven.”
I remembered my fall from the demon’s back, the feeling of warmth and light and someone’s arms around me as he fell with me from fire into fire, from darkness into darkness, and the voice whispering, “Beloved.”
I cleared my throat. “If that’s true—and I’m not saying it is—but if it is, then why didn’t you let me heal you? See, even you don’t really believe it.”
“I would not let you touch me for the very reason that I do believe it.”
“You may not be the Op Nine anymore,” I said. “But you still talk in riddles.”
He shook his head. It hit me again how truly homely he was, with the droopy hound-dog face and black rings under his eyes, with the sallow skin and huge ears.
“These men who tried to kill you will not abandon their mission simply because the object goes into hiding. Eventually, no matter how cleverly OIPEP hides you, you will be found. Better to turn and face the danger head-on, now, at a time and place of your choosing, not theirs. In a few weeks, I can help you ...”
I shoved his hand off my shoulder and stood up, backing away as I talked. Now I didn’t feel so much like crying as punching him in his sad hound-dog face.
“It isn’t my fault this time,” I said. “All I want is a normal life. Why can’t I have that? Why can everybody else have that but I can’t? You chose to be an Operative Nine ...”
“Yes, and I also chose to be your guardian, and now you would deny me that.”
“That’s it? That’s why you’re pissed? Okay, then, come with me. They’ll let you. They’ll do anything for the Seal—”
“I am still your guardian, Alfred, whether I go with you or not. And as your guardian, I must do what I feel is best for you. These people trying to hurt you—whoever they are—will continue to hunt you, though the Company hides you in the remotest corner of the globe. Do you understand? They will not stop hunting you until you are dead.”
I turned my back on him and went to the door.
“Alfred!” he called after me. “You should not trust this Nueve.”
“What makes you think I trust him?”
“He is the Operative Nine. For him, the Company’s interest trumps all others.”
“I’m giving him the Seal, Samuel. He’s getting what the Company wants.”
“The Company’s wants are many.”
“What’s that mean? What are you talking about?”
He looked away from me. “The promises of an Operative Nine are written in water, Alfred.”
“Okay ...” I waited for him to explain what the heck he was getting at.
“He may have ... other interests that conflict with yours. With ours.”
“I’ll be careful.”
I hung by the door, waiting for something but not sure what. Then it occurred to me it might not be a “what,” but a “who.”
“Who is Sofia?” I asked. He looked startled, as if I had shouted an obscenity. “You said her name in ICU and I heard you say it again when you were talking to Nueve. Who is Sofia, Samuel?”
He didn’t say anything at first. Then he said, “A ghost from the past, Alfred. That’s all. A ghost from the past.”
“Another riddle,” I said. “I should have figured.”
He nodded. “Yes. You should have.”
“Goodbye, Samuel,” I said.
“For now,” he said.
No, I thought. Forever.
05:04:49:10
In the hallway, Nueve said, “Your mascara’s running.”
He handed me his handkerchief. I dabbed my eyes.
“How do I look?” I asked.
“Like an eighty-year-old raccoon.”
I settled into the wheelchair as he pushed me to the elevators. Nueve instructed me to tuck my chin toward my chest. “It will help hide your face,” he said.
“Who is Sofia?” I asked as we waited for the elevator.
“Ah. Finally, a question to which you truly do not know the answer, yes? Or did Samuel tell you?”
“He said she was a ghost from his past.”
“She is many things. A ghost from the past, a promise for the future.”
“Huh?”
“Sofia is the Judeo-Christian goddess of wisdom, Senor Kropp.” His voice had a playful tone. “Have you ever been to the Sistine Chapel?”
“I’ve been meaning to get there.”
“She is there, under the left arm of God as he reaches with his right to touch Adam. A beautiful woman who represents truth and knowledge and all that is beneficent and worthwhile. She is the source, the font of all righteousness. I am surprised you’ve never heard of her.”