Page 135 of Carnal Urges

Mountain Man rests his hands on the back of my chair and leans close to my ear. In a low voice, he says, “Don’t play me for a fucking fool, Sloane.”

“Me? Play you for a fool? I would never. You seem much too intelligent. The plaid shirt’s a dead giveaway.”

I can almost hear his blood pressure rising.

“You think you’re very smart, don’t you?”

“I’m demonstrably smart. Would you like to give me an IQ test? Ten bucks says I’ll beat yours by at least thirty points.”

He gives up trying to intimidate me from behind and stalks around to stand in front of me again. He pronounces, “Laugh it up if you like, but if you don’t cooperate with me, you’re gonna stay in this room for the rest of your life with no contact with the outside world and nothing but a bucket to shit in.”

“I see. So much for the Bill of Rights and those pesky sixth and eighth amendments.”

He narrows his eyes at my tone of contempt. He grinds his jaw for a while. It reminds me of Declan. I miss him with a sharp, sudden ache.

“Declan O’Donnell,” says Mountain Man again. “Tell me about him.”

“Never heard of him. So how long have you been in the FBI? Or is it the CIA? I bet they have really good health benefits. Looks like their dress code has gotten a little lax, but I really only know anything about the federal government from the movies. Have you seen the Jason Bourne franchise? Love that guy. So intense.”

“How did you meet him?”

“Who? Oh, the Declan guy again? I already told you, I have no idea who that is.”

Mountain Man snaps, “We’ve been watching you. We know you’re involved with him. We picked you up on his property.”

“Listen, I’m just on vacation. I took a drive into the ritzy part of town and decided to take a walk on somebody’s beach. Is that against the law here? We do it all the time in California. Then again, it is a very progressive state.”

“We have pictures of you together,” he says hotly, trying not to lose his patience.

I shrug. “Wasn’t me.”

There follows a long, stony silence. I take the opportunity to examine his forearm tattoos more closely.

“What is that, a Druid? Kind of looks like Gandalf fromLord of the Rings.”

The door opens. Another man walks in.

This one is in a dark suit, a striped tie, and cuff links. He’s got a full head of pewter hair and a face like a slab of granite. His oxfords could blind me with their shine.

“Oh, look, Mountain Man, senior management has arrived. Guess you weren’t doing such a stellar job interrogating your prisoner.”

Closing the door behind him with brisk efficiency, the new guy takes a moment to assess me. Then he presents me with a smile as friendly as a rabid dog baring its teeth.

“Hello, Miss Keller.”

He has no discernable accent, but he does have the strangest way of drawing out the syllables so that it seems like he’s testing a new language. As if he’s a copy of a human, not a real one, an alien trying to fit in.

“Oh wow, I totally just got a flashback from the scene inThe Matrixwhere Agent Smith questions Neo about his involvement with Morpheus. You sound exactly like him. Look like him, too. Except you’re a lot older. And we need to get you a pair of dark sunglasses to cover those beady eyes.”

Mountain Man and the suit share a look. The suit says, “I’ll take over from here, Grayson.”

“Grayson? Wow, that’s averycool name. I bet you were super popular in high school.”

Grayson does something strange with his mouth. I think he’s trying not to smile, but I could be imagining things.

He exits the room, leaving me alone with the suit.

“Miss Keller, my name is Thomas Aquinas.”