chapter five: circles

Frankie couldn't stop coughing. Kilmer rubbed her back, telling her it would all be okay.

"Hang in there, Mrs. Kilmer."

"You know, I'm not really Mrs. Kilmer anymore," she said when the coughing fit passed.

He smiled. "So why did you keep the name?"

"I don't know."

He brushed her hair away from her face. "Where did we go wrong?"

"I don't have that answer either."

Someone grabbed her arm and Kilmer disappeared again. "Get up, you American slut. Fasil wishes to see you."

Frankie stumbled up the stairs, Hassan pushing her from behind. Fasil was waiting at the table. Frankie wondered if there was a certain irony that her place of torture should be a kitchen. She'd never been very domesticated. Kilmer was the better cook. He'd loved cooking for her. Well, she amended, when he was home he'd loved cooking for her.

"Allah is merciful. You have a chance to live. Will you take it?"

Frankie shivered; struggling to follow the conversation. She didn't want to be here. She wanted to be with Kilmer again.

Fasil grabbed her hair, twisting it in his hands and forcing her to look at him. "Do you believe that Allah is the one true God?"

She coughed to clear her throat and forced herself to concentrate. "Does Allah tell you to kill people?"

"If it serves His purpose."

"Does he tell you that woman are second-rate citizens? That you get to treat us like dirt? That's not what the Qur'an says—"

"Shut up!" Fasil threw her to the floor and began kicking her. "You are worse than dirt. You are nothing!"

"Fasil!" Hassan pulled him away from her.

Frankie slowly got to her feet, leaning on the back of the chair to keep from collapsing. She looked Fasil in the eye when she said, "No. I do not believe that Allah is the one true God."

"Then you will die."

Her smile was cold. "See you in hell."

Fasil spat at her. She didn't flinch.

"Get this whore out of my sight!"

Hassan took her arm and led her back downstairs. He was gentler than he'd been earlier. "I am sorry you are hurt."

"Do you believe I deserve to die?"

"I do not know." He glanced back up the stairs. "I do not believe that you should suffer so. You should not provoke him."

"Why are you helping him?"

Hassan seemed surprised by the question. "It is my duty."

"When does he plan to kill me?"

Hassan shook his head. "I am sorry. I have already said too much." He went back up.

Frankie stopped pretending to be strong. She fell to her knees and wept.

Kilmer felt useless; he wanted to be at the Vault, searching for Frankie. His frustration at the lack of progress had gotten so bad that Atkins had sent him home and ordered him to rest.

As if he could rest at a time like this, he thought. Atkins didn't understand. No one understood. He and Frankie had parted on bad terms. She never got his message so she couldn't know that he was sorry. He had to find her; he had a lifetime of apologizing to do.

Lying in bed wasn't going to help. He got up and went through to the living room. A photo album was on the shelf. Kilmer picked it up and sat down, opening it to the first picture. He wasn't sure how it had ended up with his things and he kept meaning to return it to Frankie, but tonight he was glad he had it.

Frankie smiled out at him, posing in a black bikini. In the next picture, she held up a cocktail, framed by the setting sun. His arm was around her and they were happy.

He couldn't look further. Right now he'd give anything to be back in Jakarta with her, celebrating their honeymoon.

The phone rang. "Kilmer."

"John, I'm glad I caught you. You're never at home." The voice was mildly chastising.

Kilmer sighed. "Hello, Mom."

"Although it is Friday night. You should be out. You work too hard."

Kilmer loved his mother, but he couldn't bear her gentle teasing right now. "Mom, Frankie's missing."

Faye Kilmer fell silent. "Our Frankie?"

"Yes."

"What are you doing to find her?"

"Everything we can." He looked down at the photograph, tracing Frankie's outline with his finger.

"Do you want me to come up?"

Kilmer smiled. His mother had moved to Miami when her husband died. It was testament to how much she cared for Frankie that she was willing to come to Washington. "No, it's okay."

"How are you doing?"

"I'm okay."

"John." Faye's tone conveyed her disbelief. "I'm your mother, you can't fool me."

Kilmer was quiet for a while. Then he said, "I miss her. I can't stop thinking about her."

"Well, when you get her back, I hope you take your head out of your ass and tell her how you feel."

Kilmer smiled; his mother's vocabulary had become considerably more colorful since her move. "Ass, Mom?"

"Are you still planning on coming down for Christmas?"

"Yes." If he found Frankie, but he didn't dare add that. Faye seemed to have confidence that he would; he prayed she was right.

"Good. Bring Frankie with you. She's my family too, you know."

"I will."

"Well, I suppose I'll let you get back to doing whatever it is you were doing. Call me when you find her, okay? I love you."

"You too, Mom."

Kilmer hung up, his spirits oddly lighter. He returned to the bedroom, pulling open his bedside drawer. He picked up his wedding ring and turned it over in his fingers.

Frankie slid the ring onto his finger. "With this ring, I thee wed."

"With this ring, I thee wed." Kilmer mimicked the action, then captured Frankie's mouth in a kiss. "I love you."

Kilmer slipped the ring on his finger.

"The unbroken circle is for eternity," Frankie said.

"Looks like you're stuck with me for good."

She laughed. "You'd better make it worth my while."

Kilmer got down on his knees. He needed all the help he could get, and figured it couldn't hurt to ask God.

Frankie was on a beach somewhere. The ebb and flow of the tides was making her sleepy. Kilmer was with her, rubbing sunscreen on her back.

"I wish we could stay here forever," she said.

"But we'll get wet."

"Wet?"

Kilmer nodded, his expression grave. "There's a storm coming. I don't think we're going to make it."

"But the sun's shining."

"You're burning."

Frankie shivered, and she was back in the cellar. The material of the dress was soaked through and her skin was hot. Maybe she did deserve this. Alpha-126 had died because of her.

"Kilmer . . . John." She coughed. "John, come back, please."

No one came.