huge bite. The creaminess
of the delicately herbed egg mayonnaise and floury brown bread was the best
thing she had ever tasted.
Max and Con exchanged a smile, and then Max looked over
Con’s shoulder at the two soldiers who stood rigidly on either side of the lift
doors. ‘At ease, gentleman.’ At once both soldiers relaxed but waited patiently
for Max’s next instruction. ‘That’ll be fine. Please leave us. Get some sleep.’
Her mouth full, Raegan watched the men obey instantly,
leaving the room without a word.
‘Water?’ Max continued, as if
nothing had happened. He walked over to the sideboard and poured without
waiting for her response. He then held up a crystal decanter glowing with an
amber liquid. ‘I’ve got a nice scotch here, Con, if you’re interested.’
‘Aye, go on then.’ Con and Raegan both took their glasses
gratefully, though Con did not gulp his drink as Raegan proceeded to.
Instead Max and Con raised their glasses in a silent toast
and sipped. Then Max turned to Raegan, a thoughtful expression his face.
‘I was sorry to hear about your friend, Raegan.’
His directness caught Raegan off guard. How did he know? She
glared at Con.
‘Oh, don’t blame your grandfather,’ Max spoke before she
could. ‘And please don’t be upset at my intrusion. This must have been a hugely
confusing evening for you, but in order for us to make sense of things, I think we must start with Marie.’
She rubbed her eyes. ‘I guess we do need to talk about this
evening.’ Even to Raegan, her voice sounded flat. ‘But I don’t see why we need
to talk about Marie. I really don’t want to think about it. I never want to
think about it again, to be honest.’ The image of Marie’s withered, bruised
body was like a punch in the stomach each time it crossed her mind.
‘I understand.’
‘Do you? That’s a joke. You don’t even know me.’
‘Raegan.’ There was a warning in
Con’s voice. He looked at Max. ‘I’m sorry. She’s- it’s been a long night.’
‘Don’t apologise for me,’ Raegan said rudely. ‘But yeah, it
has been a long night. And I’m fed up of talking. Why don’t you talk? Both of you. You can start by explaining what I’m doing
here.’
Max leaned back in his chair,
contemplating the whisky swirling around in his glass. When he looked
up, the cheerful façade had gone. Instead there was something much more chilly in the endless brown eyes. ‘I can’t remember the
last time I allowed someone to talk to me like that.’ His voice was soft. ‘It’s
your first night, so I’ll give you a pass. But let’s get something straight. We
don’t do teenage melodramas here. Our work is more than important: it’s
crucial. I’m not finished.’ He didn’t even flinch as Raegan tried to interrupt;
he just carried on, a hint of ice beneath the transatlantic tones. ‘Your friend
died. That’s tough. But she won’t be the last. So if I ask you to talk, you
talk. Or you’ll find yourself doing laps outside from dawn until dusk.’
Raegan felt about an inch tall. She didn’t even try to
respond.
‘Do we understand each other?’
She waited until her voice was steady enough for the words
not to break in her throat. ‘We do.’
‘Thank you, Raegan.’ Max, calmer now, took another sip of
his whisky. He sat up in his chair. ‘Look, I’ll make it easy for you. She was
older, wasn’t she, when you found her? To stumble across a body in that state
can be quite frightening.’ Raegan boggled at the complete understatement.
‘The reason I wanted to talk about Marie is because it’s all
connected. This can be confusing at first. Marie, the men you met at the
nightclub, a sense of memory loss the next day. Time is what links all three
occurrences.’
Her brain wouldn’t work. She stared at him dumbly. ‘How do
you mean?’
‘You couldn’t remember anything the next day because there
was nothing to remember. Time had sped up around you so that barely any time
had
of the delicately herbed egg mayonnaise and floury brown bread was the best
thing she had ever tasted.
Max and Con exchanged a smile, and then Max looked over
Con’s shoulder at the two soldiers who stood rigidly on either side of the lift
doors. ‘At ease, gentleman.’ At once both soldiers relaxed but waited patiently
for Max’s next instruction. ‘That’ll be fine. Please leave us. Get some sleep.’
Her mouth full, Raegan watched the men obey instantly,
leaving the room without a word.
‘Water?’ Max continued, as if
nothing had happened. He walked over to the sideboard and poured without
waiting for her response. He then held up a crystal decanter glowing with an
amber liquid. ‘I’ve got a nice scotch here, Con, if you’re interested.’
‘Aye, go on then.’ Con and Raegan both took their glasses
gratefully, though Con did not gulp his drink as Raegan proceeded to.
Instead Max and Con raised their glasses in a silent toast
and sipped. Then Max turned to Raegan, a thoughtful expression his face.
‘I was sorry to hear about your friend, Raegan.’
His directness caught Raegan off guard. How did he know? She
glared at Con.
‘Oh, don’t blame your grandfather,’ Max spoke before she
could. ‘And please don’t be upset at my intrusion. This must have been a hugely
confusing evening for you, but in order for us to make sense of things, I think we must start with Marie.’
She rubbed her eyes. ‘I guess we do need to talk about this
evening.’ Even to Raegan, her voice sounded flat. ‘But I don’t see why we need
to talk about Marie. I really don’t want to think about it. I never want to
think about it again, to be honest.’ The image of Marie’s withered, bruised
body was like a punch in the stomach each time it crossed her mind.
‘I understand.’
‘Do you? That’s a joke. You don’t even know me.’
‘Raegan.’ There was a warning in
Con’s voice. He looked at Max. ‘I’m sorry. She’s- it’s been a long night.’
‘Don’t apologise for me,’ Raegan said rudely. ‘But yeah, it
has been a long night. And I’m fed up of talking. Why don’t you talk? Both of you. You can start by explaining what I’m doing
here.’
Max leaned back in his chair,
contemplating the whisky swirling around in his glass. When he looked
up, the cheerful façade had gone. Instead there was something much more chilly in the endless brown eyes. ‘I can’t remember the
last time I allowed someone to talk to me like that.’ His voice was soft. ‘It’s
your first night, so I’ll give you a pass. But let’s get something straight. We
don’t do teenage melodramas here. Our work is more than important: it’s
crucial. I’m not finished.’ He didn’t even flinch as Raegan tried to interrupt;
he just carried on, a hint of ice beneath the transatlantic tones. ‘Your friend
died. That’s tough. But she won’t be the last. So if I ask you to talk, you
talk. Or you’ll find yourself doing laps outside from dawn until dusk.’
Raegan felt about an inch tall. She didn’t even try to
respond.
‘Do we understand each other?’
She waited until her voice was steady enough for the words
not to break in her throat. ‘We do.’
‘Thank you, Raegan.’ Max, calmer now, took another sip of
his whisky. He sat up in his chair. ‘Look, I’ll make it easy for you. She was
older, wasn’t she, when you found her? To stumble across a body in that state
can be quite frightening.’ Raegan boggled at the complete understatement.
‘The reason I wanted to talk about Marie is because it’s all
connected. This can be confusing at first. Marie, the men you met at the
nightclub, a sense of memory loss the next day. Time is what links all three
occurrences.’
Her brain wouldn’t work. She stared at him dumbly. ‘How do
you mean?’
‘You couldn’t remember anything the next day because there
was nothing to remember. Time had sped up around you so that barely any time
had
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