Chapter 7

Explanations

She turned; Number 12 expected to see something resembling surprise upon her face, as well as a face that he could still readily recognise. But her face was aged beyond her years, only vaguely reminiscent of the young woman he remembered from his youth.

"You're Frank Hardy," she said. "When that man you were with this morning asked me if I was new here, I recognised you almost instantly. It's been a long time."

"Too long," Number 12 agreed. "Long enough for Joe to meet, fall in love with, marry, and divorce another woman."

"Who?" Number 49 asked.

"Vanessa Bender," he replied.

"Why did she divorce Joe?"

"They had twin daughters, Elen and Gwladys. Gwladys- that's Welsh for Claudia, by the way- is normal. Elen's got a few talents that Vanessa's not too pleased about at the moment."

"Do I dare ask what those talents are?" Number 49 said.

"She can…sense things about a person. But only if that something affects a large number of people. And she can never tell if it will happen tomorrow or ten years from that vision." He shrugged. "It's called clairvoyance by a lot of people, but Vanessa and her current husband, Paul Laskry, call it luck. They want nothing to do with her because she's clairvoyant."

"What about you?" Number 49 asked with a slight grin. "Any clairvoyance on your side of the family?"

"No," he replied, and left it at that.

Number 2, this one a large, round man with a pasty-white face, watched the two prisoners upon the screen in his blue-tinged chamber. "I do believe we're getting somewhere," he said, smiling to himself as he recalled the long talk he had had with Number 49 when she had first arrived in The Village.

"What do you want me to do?" Number 49 asked.

Number 2 smiled, and his smile reminded Number 49 of a fox that had discovered a way into a well-guarded chicken coop. "Talk with Number 12. You're supposed to know him from your childhood; he'll remember Iola and thus be willing to talk. Make plans to escape. Anything, so long as he reveals why he resigned."

"I know that answer already," Number 49 replied.

"And?" he pressed.

"He resigned as a matter of conscience. You're not the only one who's been spying on his family; I have, too, when they least expect it. Always in disguise, though. They think Iola's dead, remember? Anyway, he resigned to keep his family safe. But from the looks of things, he may have just endangered them more." She sighed. "Though I will try, and I will tell you everything he tells me."

"Dad, I'm scared," Gwladys confessed.

They were sitting together upon the windowseat in her room. Absently, Joe looked out the window they were both leaning against and saw that familiar view of blue-grey sea a few alleys over, and the baymouth bar that now closed the bay off completely from the ocean. A lighthouse was there now, on the thin stretch of sand; through the late September rain he could see its piercing light. Here's land, it said. Land, or a treacherous place for you ships. Don't come here; stay out there. Way out there where you're safe. "I know, honey," he said, reaching out awkwardly to place his hand on her knee and give it a reassuring squeeze. Suddenly, as if trying to keep from breaking down (thought Gwladys), he asked, "Did you know that Barmet Bay used to be opened to the Atlantic when Frank and I were kids?" BIG mistake. "God, I wish it was then," he said quietly, his resolve not to cry in front of his family diminishing as tears finally worked their way to the surface. "Everything was so innocent."

But they could not stay up here much longer, or the Grey Man would send that machine-like Hughes up to see what was keeping them.

"We don't know where Frank is," the Grey Man said, repeating what they already knew; but Joe, with his many years of police experience, could tell the older man was lying. "All we know is that he's somewhere overseas, and we can't reach him. We've received word that he is non-salvageable."

Joe was, once again, in his living room with the rest of the old gang, trying hard not to break down again.

"You okay?" Callie asked him.

"Considering that my brother is supposedly dead, yes," he replied somewhat coldly, though he hadn't meant it to be. This business of keeping his emotions tucked safely away where no one could reach them was a whole lot easier said than done. "I keep thinking that this will be like all the other times, that somehow Frank will manage to escape at the last possible moment before the bomb ticks down to zero, or the gun goes off, or…" His voice trailed off. "Lady Luck was always on our side back then. Always. But maybe now our luck is running low. Detectives aren't supposed to die, and it's always a shock when one of us is killed. But all that I can do is hope that I'm not next on the list."

"I appreciate your telling us everything you know about Frank's last case," Joe told the Grey Man as he, Nancy, and Elenwalked the older man and Mr. Hughes to the door.

The Network agent shrugged. "It was the least I could do for you, considering how close you and Frank were," he said. "But I am sorry I couldn't be of more help in determining whether he is alive."

"You know where he is," Elen accused. "You just don't want us to know."

The Grey Man sighed. "You're right, I do know. Meet me tomorrow in my office at headquarters, and we'll discuss it then. Just Joe and Nancy."

Nancy glanced at him. "Why just us?"

"It would look suspicious, all of Frank's old friends in at once. But with just you and Joe, we can make a cover story of you being there to get Frank's things." He exited the dwelling, tailed by Mr. Hughes. Neither spoke until reaching their vehicle.

"Time for Phase Two," Mr. Hughes said, somewhat dryly.

Later, after everyone had left upon promising to come back the next morning to start searching for Frank, Joe realised that perhaps Jerry Gilroy, with his notion of Frank being in The Village, was plausible after all; and that the Network did know where Frank was: Nancy had said that Frank had been home at least two days before he was supposedly killed in action.