The plot thickens. I hope you all like it. This is a very interesting story to write. I think I have a tendency to all the people in the books who fight. Action keeps me interested in the story I'm writing, and helps me finish.
I heard about the review reply thing they're adding. I think I'll use it. It was smart of them to add it, if they're banning us from outright replies to reviews. If I can't keep up, I'm sorry, but I'll try.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.
Valerie waited until his breathing was deep and regular, and then sat up, leaning over him. She could see nothing in the dark, but she could hear him, and sense where he was. Carefully, she found his throat, wrapping her hands lightly around it.
She could feel the steady pounding of his heart now, and his breathing. He was so… alive underneath her hands. She began to feel uneasy, and doubtful about killing him. It was so different this way! Nothing at all like pointing a gun and pulling the trigger. He was alive, and real. It had not been murder to her before. This would be murder, she knew, and she would never forget it. Zane. She'd gotten too personal.
Slowly, she began to squeeze. Zane hardly seemed to notice at first. She squeezed harder, moving on top of him so that he couldn't push her away when he became awake. He would know what was going on, and accept it almost, but the instinct for survival would be greater.
He jerked, suddenly awake, and his hands found her wrists, tearing at them. But only for an instant. They stopped, quite suddenly, and merely rested there. They were still tight though, and she knew he was alive, clinging to her as he died. Slowly, they began to loosen.
Sickness at what she was doing rose inside her. She pulled away, letting go before she should have, shaking. She wanted to throw up again. To cry like a little girl.
Zane coughed, and choked, and began to breathe again. It was reproachful breathing, reminding her that he shouldn't be. Reminding her that she had failed her job, and was weak, and that there would be consequences for what she had not been able to do.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I—"
He said nothing, but pulled her head down next to his so that they could talk without restriction. "I was almost dead. You should have held on. I was not fighting you."
"I know! But it's different Zane!" Her voice rose to a fierce whisper, kept safe by his hands and directed into his ear. "It's not like pulling a trigger! You're alive!"
"You'd have been doing us both a kindness. Dying by torture is not a pleasant thing."
"I'm sorry!"
Zane said nothing.
Valerie pulled away, and lay still, staring at the liquid blackness in front of her. She'd failed. She'd never failed any job before. And Zane was right. It would have been so much easier— for both of them. No fighting. No long and painful struggle.
Sorry wouldn't work. She'd have to find something better than that. Something to make up for what she'd done— or rather, what she hadn't done, and should have.
If there was no way into The Fortress, then there was no way out. Well— unless if they wanted you out. But they only wanted you out if you were dead, and she could fake knowing where a diamond was, but she couldn't fake being dead. It was too complete.
"Zane?"
He turned his head, but said nothing, still.
This time, she moved over him so that they could not be heard. "They'll know I tried to kill you. What are they going to say? What are we going to say to them?"
"Tell them there's a grudge between us. Refuse to talk about. They'll think lover's quarrel." He sighed. "Which would also explain why you didn't finish the job— you still harboring affections for me. Of course, then, they might try threatening torture to the other to get us to talk, but you must refuse. Talk as little as possible."
"I've never—"
"Never what?"
"I've never failed a job like I have this one. Once I was a day behind, but I threw out obstacles while I put on finishing touches, and nothing was the worse. But I… never failed before."
Zane nodded. "Everyone must fail. Some of us fail only once, which is our end. Others of us fail all the time— each time— and each time they fix a small failure so they may deal with another one."
"You sound old." Valerie forced back a laugh. It didn't fit with her identity at all.
"Is that a compliment or an insult?"
"I'm not sure."
Valerie was silent for a moment. "Are you angry with me, Zane? For not killing you?"
He thought. "I'm not sure. Not angry with you. I just feel tired. I don't want to have to hold out any longer. I just want to die, and be done. It seems like I've been here forever."
"I am sorry."
"I know. For yourself as well as me."
Valerie sat up suddenly, placing her hand over Zane's mouth. Listening as someone outside asked for a password. A moment of frantic silence. Then, a single shot, followed by a thud.
The guard had forgotten the password for a moment, and it had cost him his life.
The silence resumed.
Valerie lay back down beside Zane with a nod. "Alright. Zane?"
"Yes?"
"I'm not going to fail this job. I can't! I'm going to get us out of here somehow. Both of us, since I can't kill you, and I can't leave you here to get information wormed out of you."
Zane laughed bitterly. "Ha! Being funny, are we? You can't seriously think for a moment that it's possible to get out of here!"
"Why not?"
"Why do you?"
Valerie muttered something priggishly. "I can do anything, Zane. I killed Trabar, my first job."
"Ha, ha. Very funny."
"I did."
"Look, maybe you did. But who you killed a year ago isn't going to get us out of here! Maybe you've got the hunting and stalking skills— but the breaking and stealing don't come with that."
"That's why you think." Valerie sat up, moving towards the sound of the running water so she could wash the blood off her hands. Her whole front was warm and sticky.
"That's what I know, and you're foolish to think otherwise."
"I'm different than the ones before me."
Zane sat up with a rustle. "How so? Give me one really good example. Tell me why you're different. Tell me how you're different. What makes you think you're better, and what makes you think you can succeed where hundreds of experts failed?"
"I'm a child." Valerie turned and came back. "Children think differently, Zane. They have this wonder, this curiosity, and this freshness. They challenge assumed truth."
This time, Zane did not argue with her. What she said was, supposedly, true. And really, she was a child. Only eighteen. It was ridiculous. What could she hope to do?
But Trabar— and she sounded so certain. Perhaps. He'd give her doubt. Nothing more.
"Lie down. You need sleep."
Valerie lay down beside him, curling up, and pulling his arm under her head for a pillow. There was a closeness between them now that came from being fellow prisoners and conspirers. She had tried to kill him, and she could not, so something else must be done. What that was, was yet to be decided, but it would be, and it would be soon.
"Good night, Zane."
"Good night." He obviously disapproved of this childish habit of saying good night, but she didn't care. She was a child, and she would be childish if she wanted to.
"Zane?"
"What now?"
"What time is it?" She shifted her head to farther down on his arm, not liking the smell of blood that saturated him.
He smacked at her. "Time to sleep. Now be quiet, and shut your eyes! Stop asking questions!"
"Why?"
"Because."
Valerie twisted around uncomfortably on the concrete. "When do we have to get up?"
"Whenever someone wants us up."
"Oh."
Zane muttered something under his breath, and turned his head away from her.
"Good night, Zane."
"Good night."
Valerie lay awake for a long time, reviewing what she'd been told about The Fortress and trying to find its weakness. All things had a weakness. Finding the weakness was the difficult part. They were well hidden. And The Fortress's weakness was very well hidden. As Zane had said, many had tried before her, and none had succeeded.
The key lay in thinking like a child. Children had absurd thoughts. Thoughts that were dismissed. If she could find the thing that no one thought possible, she must do that. It had gotten in her, hadn't it? No one could have guessed she had gotten herself captured on purpose. The idea was completely absurd. And so she'd won.
Zane presented a problem, however. He was weak. Well— strong, but considerably weakened by his injuries. Overexertion would finish him. She must find a way around that as well.
She rolled over, and nudged him.
He jerked, stiffening, as he realized it was her, and wondering what she wanted.
Carefully, she rolled over on top of him, cupping her hands around his ear. "Do you speak any Russian, Zane? Can you understand them when they talk? Anything?"
"No," he said shortly. "Now I'm tired! Let me sleep!"
Valerie pulled away grumbling, and feeling even farther from a solution to the problem. If neither of them understood Russian, they wouldn't be able to know how much their enemy knew, or listen in on conversations, or make it out of the country without being noticed. Two persons who couldn't speak Russian, one horribly wounded would not be ignored. The moment they were sighted, the Mafia would come running.
But perhaps— perhaps there was an advantage in that. If it was not even considered as a possibility, who would be prepared for it? It must be something they weren't prepared for. A surprise…
The obvious. She must do something so obvious, that no one would see it. But what? That was the difficult part of doing the so obvious that no one saw it. It was difficult to see yourself. Not until later. Afterwards, it would seem so simplistic, and she would wonder why she had not thought of it earlier.
The stupidest thing she could do. What could she do that would break every single law and assumed truth that anyone had ever made?
Her train of thoughts were interrupted by the clicking of heels against the tile floor outside the door. This time, the password came snappily and confident. No shot.
The door opened, and light flooded into the room, half blinding her for an instant.
"You will come with me, Madam." The voice was guttural, and the words slurred. She was fairly certain the man didn't even know what he had said, other than that it conveyed the command to follow him. He'd probably been taught it a few minutes ago.
Zane woke up squinting against the glare. Valerie automatically shielded his eyes, waiting for any kind of signal from him.
"You will come with me, Madam!" He sounded agitated, perhaps worried that he'd said a word wrong, and told her something other than what he was supposed to.
"Go," whispered Zane. "Remember what I told you."
The cameras would hear most likely, but they would not know what he had told her, and the man would not know.
Valerie nodded, and got to her feet, moving to the door.
I'm glaring very hard at certain ones of you through my computer screen! There are always people who have me on their favorites list, or on story alert, and yet do not review. They had better. And if you're guilty, you know what I'm talking about.
You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)
