The next day, I wake up feeling invigorated. My talk with Sarah the previous day felt like a balm, a normal conversation without the drama that usually ensues when Felix was around was refreshing and gave me renewed enthusiasm for the mission. Even if Felix remains stubbornly bitter to the point of glaring at me when we cross paths in the morning, I don't let it kill my good mood. He'll come around eventually. If not for me, then for Sarah; she knows how to take care of him when he's like this, while I've never had much patience for his mood swings.
I make quick work of the logs and use the time until lunch to do some research on Mr. Mariusz Baczkowski. Unsurprisingly, there's not much about him available online, otherwise Daniel wouldn't have requested such a task from me. A few of his businesses have made news in economic circles in the US and Europe. I manage to read some, written in English and German, but the bulk of the news is eastern Europe. Still, with the little information I've gathered, I can see the pattern that made Daniel so nervous about doing business with the Polish man. There's nothing concrete and most of it is pure speculation, but the man has a reputation for being vicious when conducting his business, several articles mentioning a possible connection with the Russian mafia, and again my brain makes links with what has happened in Warsaw. But, like the journalists who've written about him, all I have is a vague connection shaped by my own personal experience, circumstantial at best. I won't know anything for certain until I'm able to dig deeper and, as Webster suggested, a trip to Poland seems inevitable in order to have a more proactive approach to the problem. I need to start somewhere and going directly to the source might be the best bet.
First, I need to speak with Ms. S. I suspect she knows something about this and, fortunately, our meeting is not that far away.
A knock on the door interrupts my thoughts and the task of cleaning the lunch dishes. I sling the towel over my shoulder and head to the door, thinking one of my partners had forgotten something and is too lazy to use the keys, knowing I'm home.
I swing the door open and scowl immediately. "What do you want?" I ask abruptly.
Delphine narrows her eyes slightly at my unfriendly greeting but doesn't backtrack. "Are you free?" She asks flatly, almost with the same animosity.
"Don't tell me you want to go on another date?" I snicker bitterly.
She shakes her head once. "I don't want to," Delphine answers in the same tone, "but we're going nonetheless."
"Are we?" I cock my brow and tilt my head in utter disbelief.
"We are!" She gives a firm nod. "I'll wait for you by the car. Don't take too long!"
And with that she leaves, tucking her hands in the pockets of her long, white coat, striding in the direction of the parking area. Stunned, I remain by the open door, watching her go with mouth agape, my hand raised in a gesture of confusion that wasn't completely due to the abruptness of it all.
"Un-fucking-believable..." I mumble to myself, moving inside and shaking my head annoyed.
All the same, I put on my boots and reach for my coat, debating whether I should leave a note warning my roommates of my absence should they return before I do, but ultimately decide against it. I lock the door, pocket the keys, and grab my phone.
Delphine is waiting for me, already behind the wheel, and starts the car when she sees me, seemingly in a hurry.
"What happened? Forgot to buy shoes for your fancy party?" I say the moment I sit, not bothering to hide my contempt.
Delphine throws an ugly look my way but doesn't respond to my childish provocation. She simply drives off the property, steps on the gas, and sends the old SUV roaring down the road, leaving the estate growing smaller in the rearview mirror.
She has a closed expression, thoughtful and determined and, if I recall, that's never a good sign.
"Delphine..." I say in a quiet voice, uneasiness creep into my bones, but she doesn't make a move. "Is everything okay?" I try again.
She looks at me and her countenance softens, doubt passing across her face, but it's fleeting and she focuses her attention back on the road. "Yes," she replies shortly.
"Okay..." I twist my lips and decide to just see where this goes.
A heavy silence fills the vehicle, the only sound being the complaint of the motor every time Delphine decides to push it. She drives us to the same parking lot and we step onto the street.
"This is the weirdest kidnap ever," I comment under my breath walking beside her.
She chuckles and look at me with a surprising glee in her bright eyes. "That makes you the most cooperative victim ever." Delphine's voice is lighter now, her shoulders relaxing a little as she takes a deep breath.
"What is this all about? Really..." I ask.
"I needed to get out." She shrugs.
"So... I'm your excuse," I say, still feeling confused.
"You could say that." She doesn't stop until we are at the same bakery and opens the door for me to enter.
We sit at the same table, but this time she's faster than me and takes the seat facing the door.
"Can't you simply leave whenever you want?" I ask, starting to get seriously concerned about her situation.
But Delphine smiles and shakes her head. "Of course I can," she says.
I squint and my brain starts to connect the dots. "But this way he won't ask many questions," I offer and she doesn't react. "That's why you said we had a good time the other day."
This time she frowns. "I thought we did."
We're interrupted by the same woman who's efficient in taking Delphine's order after a few pleasant words are exchanged.
"Are you gonna move in there?" I inquire bluntly as soon as we're alone again and it's ridiculous; I know the answer.
Her bright hazel eyes go wide, stunned by my question or maybe just the way I asked. "After the wedding," she answers after the few seconds it takes her to recover.
"But not yet?" I push, unable to keep my voice completely level. She shakes her head, a hint of irritation in her gaze. "I'm just asking because you seem to spend a lot of time there and you need excuses to get out."
"I don't need excuses!" She cuts me off with a firm voice, annoyed by my assumption. "I can leave whenever I please, for whatever reason. I didn't have to bring you with me and you certainly didn't have to come. I figured you'd be bored and thought it was a nice gesture, but obviously you don't feel that way!" Delphine's words come out in a rush. "We can leave right now if that's what you want."
I remain silent as she speaks, my expression unchanged - an unimpressed mask that I've perfected through the years. Only when she stops and looks at me, awaiting my response do my eyebrows arches, but I say nothing, letting it simmer for a moment.
"You wanna know what I think?" I offer when I had my fill. "I think you feel guilty about how things went last time and you're doing this to make yourself feel better."
Her lips form a straight line, the plump flesh of her lower lip briefly nibbled by nervous white teeth. There's doubt in her eyes as she pins me with an intense gaze, her fingers weaving through golden tendrils. Only when the waitress arrives to serve us do her eyes drift, her expression changing to give a weak smile to the older woman as she waits for her to leave.
"I know I should've told you that was the purpose of the shopping," she says in a much softer voice, reaching for the delicate porcelain teapot and filling both cups, the tips of her fingers sliding one in my direction. "But I didn't want to..." Delphine pauses, considering her next words. "That's it! I didn't want to," she decides, setting the pot down on the table. "I knew it would create an awkward situation and I didn't want that."
She's honest at least; I give her that. I observe as she reaches for the cup in front of her, blowing gently before bringing it to her lips for a small sip. Her eyes find mine for a brief second, a small, mysterious glint in them that I can't quite place. We are silent for a while; eating flakey pastries and drinking strong tea, and despite being constantly at odds, it doesn't feel uncomfortable. I don't feel the need to break the silence with shallow conversation.
"Daniel told me he invited you to the engagement party," she prompts casually between bites of the buttery croissant.
I smirk and snort lightly. "If you're worried about that, don't be," I say with a shrug. "I have no intention of attending."
She nods a few times and hums. "Didn't think you would," Delphine comments in the same soft tone. "He's growing to like you a lot."
"Don't tell me you're jealous," I joke halfheartedly .
"It was just an observation." She chuckles. "He's very impressed with your work."
I shrug again, unsure where she's going with this, remembering her words of caution the last time we were here. "And that's not necessarily a good thing, since they're not nice people." She frowns but says nothing. "If he's such a bad guy, then why would you want to marry him? Don't tell me you have a thing for bad boys," I press with irony. "Aren't you too old for that kind of rebellion?"
Delphine keeps staring at me with a blank look. "I'm not surprised you didn't take me seriously," she observes, her eyes abandoning me in favor of her cup of tea.
"Why would I, when you refuse to give me legitimate reason?"
A corner of her lip turns upwards in a discontent frown, shaking her head a couple of times. "I find it interesting that you choose not to trust me but have no problems trusting him."
"I never said I trust him," I tell her matter-of-factually. "But I have no motive to trust you more than him."
"Well, Daniel seems to trust you quite a bit," Delphine says, brushing off my jab, unaffected. "It's a very impressive accomplishment, since he has a very suspicious nature."
"I wouldn't know about that," I say dismissively. "I just do my job."
"And what is that, exactly?" Delphine asks, her attention back on the plate, selecting an orange macaron.
"Computer stuff," I answer with another shrug.
She arches a blond brow and rolls her eyes, but doesn't attempt to find out more. "And how long have you been doing computer stuff?" Delphine asks instead.
"A few years," I vaguely answer, wanting to end this uncomfortable line of questioning. Delphine is far from thick, and soon she'll see through my evasive responses. "What about you?" I try to put the focus back on her. "Are you gonna look for something around here? Boston has plenty of museums and galleries and stuff, right?"
She shifts slightly in her chair, her back relaxes against the seat. "Yes," she nods. "I've already sent some CV's, waiting to hear back from them."
I give her a little smile. "Good! At least you're not becoming a desperate housewife or something..."
Delphine laughs and her body loosens a little more. "No, I'm not. I would probably go insane."
"Even with me around?" I poke, the lightness of the conversation steering me into a more careless mood.
"Especially with you around," Delphine corrects me thoughtlessly, before her expression suddenly becomes hard.
The silence that follows is an uncomfortable one. We steal glances at each other but neither of us seems to be able to find the right words to fill the awkwardness. I inhale deeply, my heart feels unbearably heavy and it takes more than it should, considering all that's behind us and the many years apart, to keep from reaching out to her. Delphine looks out the window, contemplative, nibbling her lower lip until she shakes her head slowly a few times and, wordlessly, gets up and walks in the counter's direction. I get up as well and go outside, welcoming the frigid air against my skin.
I jump slightly feeling her hand tap my shoulder.
"Let's go?" Delphine's voice is incredibly soft, and even her gaze is as gentle as I remember from our more pleasant days.
I swallow the nervousness building in my chest. "What now?" I croak. "Back to the dungeon?"
She snorts and shakes her head. "A quick stop first," she tells me in the same gentle tone and starts to walk.
I follow her with my eyes at first, before I catch myself, shaking my head as if that's enough to will dangerous thoughts away, and quicken my steps to catch up to her. Finally, when next to Delphine, she looks down at me, a ridiculous, knowing smile on her lips and I have to clench my fists at my side just to keep a semblance of control. Were I not so focused on keeping myself together, I would've analyzed the smallest detail in her actions, her reactions, Delphine's constant swings in behavior. I know that nothing about this is normal, but it feels so natural, effortless and I'm grasping for reason, finding it increasingly difficult to brush off Delphine's magnetic appeal.
I'm barely paying attention to where she's leading me and the path only comes back into focus when we stop at an old brick building and she's fishing for keys in her purse.
"Your house," I deduce as she holds the door for me.
She nods. "I need to get something."
"I'll wait," I say, refusing to cross the door.
Delphine frowns. "Don't be ridiculous," she scolds and pulls me by the elbow. "It shouldn't take long."
I groan but let her guide me up the stairs. "I think this is a very bad idea, Delphine," I puff out, climbing the second flight of stairs.
On the third floor, she stops in front of one of the doors and turns around. "Do you think you're that irresistible?" Delphine raises a playful eyebrow, a smirk tugs at the corner of her lips.
No, but you are, I hear my mind scream, but am wise enough not to say it aloud, censuring myself for even thinking it. Although the awkward chuckle I release is not much better and when she turns to open the door I bury my face in my palm, urging my mind to stop traveling dangerous paths.
I've regain some of my blasé façade when Delphine, having opened the door and stepped inside, looks back at me. I stand at the threshold, my feet rooted.
"Well?" She says expectantly and when I remain unmoving, she rolls her eyes. "Cosima, get inside and close the door," she says in an exasperated tone. "I promise I won't bite."
I sigh heavily and do what she asks, but don't walk any further inside the place.
It's a small space, clearly not meant to be used as a permanent residence for long. A niche of an apartment, the front door opens directly into a small area which serves as living room, bedroom and kitchen. The painted white iron bed is small and neatly pushed against a corner with a window over it. There's no closet, and the clothes are carefully hung on a stand against another wall with a few shoes perfectly lined up underneath it. A couch separates both areas, and the TV is mounted on the wall so it can be visible from everywhere. The furniture, while it looks brand new, doesn't seem like it would last long. Hardly decorated, the house looks convenient but is stark and lacks personality. The eggshell white walls are barren, save for a few cheap knockoffs of famous oil paintings. The kitchen - if you can call it that - is a small counter on the opposite end of the bed, with two burners, a microwave and a sink occupying most of it, the oven under the cupboard and a fridge not much bigger than a minibar complete the area that doesn't seem to be used much.
Everything feels mildly impersonal. Delphine has clearly chosen not to waste any time in trying to make this her home, as evidenced by a few unopened boxes sitting forlornly in a corner.
"You don't entertain much, do you?" I ask before I think it through.
"No, I don't," Delphine replies shortly, shaking her head and if my words bother her, she shows no sign of it.
She goes to the dresser, a duffel bag in hand where she meticulously places a couple of warm shirts. Involuntarily I bite my lower lip and look away, fighting against the churning in my stomach.
"Mind if I use the bathroom?" I then ask, taking a few more steps inside and heading towards the only door in the apartment.
"Go ahead," she looks at me and nods when she sees me approaching what can only be the bathroom.
I flip on the light and enter the small room, closing the door behind me. Inside I splash cold water on my face, the mirror having no reservation about revealing my uneasy state of mind. I take the time to inspect what's out in the open: toothbrush and toothpaste in a plastic cup, a bar of nice soap on the sink, the shower small with a plastic curtain pushed back, body wash, shampoo and a few hair products in a metallic basket inside the shower. I refrain from opening the medicine cabinet and check inside; an habit gained with my usual line of work.
Delphine's smoking at the window near the kitchen counter when I step out, a distant look on her face as she exhales a steady tendril of smoke. I clear my throat, making my presence known, and she looks back at me, a hint of a smile on her lips as she crushes the cigarette on the ashtray on the windowsill.
"Hard habit to kick," she comments quietly, closing the window.
"I imagine so," I agree. "But you know me, I go only for the natural stuff."
Delphine laughs softly and picks up the bag from the couch, getting her keys from the small table on the way to the door. "If you want, I can talk with Will," she offers as we make our way down the stairs. "I'm sure he can get you some of the natural stuff," she air quotes before opening the building's door.
"Can't believe you're offering to be my dealer," I joke, following her easy pace down the street. "Very enabling of you."
"I don't judge." She shrugs. "There's a lot of things worse out there than smoking pot and I know it has many benefits. Besides, you don't strike me as the kind of person who'd abuse it."
"Have you..?" I bring my thumb and forefinger to my lips, tilting my head up to meet her eyes.
She smirks. "There are very few things I haven't tried, Cosima," Delphine says in a low, conspiratorial voice.
I open my mouth a couple of times to come up with an answer and the only thing I can come up with is a mumble. "Well, that's... that's really progressive of you."
She laughs full-heartedly and shakes her head. Delphine continues to chuckle lightly as we approach the parking lot where she left the car, down the block from her building. Music accompanies us on the drive back. I don't know if it's to avoid the awkwardness of last time, or if it's because she's indeed in a hurry, Delphine doesn't linger and as soon as we park, she leaves the car.
"If I was to get you for another tea would that be alright or would you still feel like I'm kidnapping you?" She asks casually, although her eyes refuse to meet mine.
I stop, surprised by her question, taking some time to think about it. I know it's not the brightest idea, but on the other hand, perhaps it's a good way to get on Daniel's good side. After all, he wants us to be friends. If Delphine and I can maintain a cordial relationship would that be so bad?
"As long as it comes with a side of croissants, I'm sure we can manage," I answer with a short nod of my head, and as I say the words I can taste the phony easiness on my tongue .
She smiles and nods herself and I stand there, watching her walk towards the main building, looking over her shoulder once to find my gaze pinned on her and the smile she shows melts me inside.
I pull my coat tightly closed, and turn to head for our cottage, too distracted to pay attention to my surroundings.
"Better get smarter, Cosima," Sarah mutters, as she suddenly appears alongside me.
"We're just having tea," I answer, not even bothering to look at her, knowing I most likely won't like what I see, and continue to walk.
I hear her snort. "Since when do you drink tea?"
I say nothing, sliding the keys into the lock and opening the door.
"What do you think is gonna happen, huh?" Sarah insists and I can't really refute her thinking, so I remain silent. "How do you think this is going to end? She'll dump the rich dolt and you're gonna live happy ever after..."
"I know that, okay!" I say aloud, turning to face her with an unhappy expression.
"Good!" She replies equally loud and fortunately leaves it at that, entering to the bathroom.
I sit heavily on the couch, sighing deeply and let my head fall back, both my hands covering my face. She's right, I know it and I wish I could act accordingly. However, I can't seem to find the ability to say no to Delphine. That remains the same. No matter how many years have passed, or how much I've changed, nor how aware I am that Delphine is clearly not the same person I once knew. Despite the fact that some of her old personality traits still cling to her, she's not the same. Even if she was, what difference would that make? The appeal is still there, gnawing at my entrails, twisting them until I can't seem to focus on anything else.
It's not a pleasant feeling, thinking I have little or no control when Delphine is in the mix. Only now can I admit that I've severely downplayed the influence she has on me, not that I could've predicted it when Ms. S recruited me for this mission, but I did see it before now. Furthermore, this can and will become a problem if I don't find a way to deal with it, thus proving Sarah right once again. Unfortunately, Delphine, unaware of the predicament she's putting me in, or at least, not aware of the full fuck-up potential, appears to be on a mission of her own, determined to see me wrapped around her fingers, like everyone else around her. Too bad I can't be sure of her intentions. Perhaps she's just bored, I chuckle to myself when I think it.
Sarah refrains from mentioning what she witnessed to Felix when he returns, but the looks she gives me throughout the night tell me that she won't keep it to herself much longer. In her eyes I'm running out of opportunities to make this right and clean up my act. Or perhaps she's just waiting for my meeting with Ms. S, especially if Sarah had said something about this to our leader, like I suspect. Maybe even Felix had the balls to say something. In fact, now that I think about it, and taking in consideration his peacock attitude when he got back from his own meeting, I'm sure he did.
I'm expecting Delphine to be the main topic of discussion when I, after leaving the car provided by the Websters and taking a cab to our safe house, knock on the door four times.
Ms. S opens the door, a serious look on her face when she steps aside to let me in.
"We have a serious problem regarding Ms. Cormier."
Her voice is stern and she doesn't disappoint right off the bat.
Since the beginning I've learned that we should fear her rage. Siobhan Sadler doesn't like to be taken for a fool and she goes to great lengths to let us know that, which is why I have no intentions to lie to her. I swallow thickly feeling her glare on me.