David Dun - Necessary Evil

They stood on a gray-white rock beyond the reach of the spray from the last cascade, where a small clear pool mirrored the mountain. They stopped for a moment to drink.

Kier pointed at tracks in the mud. "Those are otter," he explained. He pointed farther away to the water's edge. "Those are coon."

All around the soft dirt told the story of the passing little feet.

"I'm chilled." She moved against him, feeling slightly bold. She let her gaze wander across the mountain. One lone fir grew crooked, high up, out of what seemed to be a smooth rock face. Wanting Kier's touch, Jessie felt a kinship to the solitary tree.

After a time, a gentle hand rested on her near shoulder.

"This hasn't changed for thousands of years, I suppose," she said, pulling his arm around her and leaning into his ribs.

"What hasn't changed, the scenery or the other?" he said.

"Well, both, but I guess at the moment I'm thinking more of the other."

The creek took them to the bottom of Mill Valley to the Wintoon River, but at a point far above the Donahues' or Kier's cabin. Quickly they darted across the Mill Valley Road, over a still-snowy ridge, and down into an area where they had not yet been-a place Tillman was unlikely to search for them.

At the far side of the ridge, Kier stopped and listened. They were in a dense forest.

"There's a cabin that's mostly hidden in the trees. We can approach it without being seen."

The owner was known as Indian Lady Margaret, Kier told Jessie, as they neared the dwelling. Her husband had been a successful fisherman, both on the river and in the ocean. Full of youthful energy at seventy, Indian Lady Margaret still kept the summer place that she and her husband had long ago built on the side of the mountain. It sat far away from any public road at the end of a jeep track in a tiny, natural meadow left to the sun by the conifer forest. As they approached the back of the cabin, Jessie could see that its walls were built entirely of stone; from the outside it appeared solidly enticing.

All one room, it was nevertheless a good deal larger than the now-destroyed honeymoon cabin. Kier knew right where to find the key and promised that its owner would heartily approve of their use of the place. In minutes, they had a fire going in the stove. Among the luxuries of this cabin was a feather bed and running water that flowed by gravity from a spring higher on the mountain. It took only a little doing to prepare their leftover food. Kier said Margaret wouldn't mind if they borrowed a canned ham that Jessie favored over reheated beaver tail.

For light they had kerosene lanterns. Not as bright as a normal array of electric bulbs, the lanterns bathed the cabin in a soft yellow glow. The rock walls would have been positively chic in a downtown New York restaurant-here they made good protection. The furniture consisted of a rocker with layers of blanket tacked on for padding, an old but serviceable sofa flanked by two handmade tables, and a five-board kitchen table with four rustic chairs.

Kier and Jessie still had enough energy left to speculate during dinner about the airplane and their adversary's machinations.

After dinner, Kier rigged sheets around a large bathtub in the corner. Using water that had been heating since before dinner, he made her a shallow bath. Almost falling asleep, he threatened to assist her in order to get his turn. Although they both talked of sleep with real eagerness, they were running on adrenaline and could not turn their drowsiness into the will to crawl in bed. Giving up on sleep for the moment, they sat down for a dessert of canned peaches.

"How the hell did he get a piece of you to clone?" she asked.

''I had my jaw wired together at the clinic. It was three years ago. They put me to sleep. They could have done anything."

"Oh." After taking another bite of peach, she continued. "Why are you so aloof? With women, I mean."

"How did we get from cloning to…?"

"Biology to love? I think for most men that's the natural sequence of events, except maybe they don't usually get to the second part. So don't change the subject. We're on aloof now."

"Maybe I'm not altogether sure."

"But you admit it?"

He nodded.

"Of course, you're sure. You've had years to think about it. You are introspective. You can't fool me with those terse Tilokisms of yours. Tell me. I want to know."

"I suppose my dad dying the way he did, coated me with emotional veneer. I suppose if I am numb I wouldn't know, after all these years, that there is anything but numb."

"I don't agree. I think you understand stir the oatmeal as a no-risk deal. To understand that, you've got to understand the possibility of something else."

Kier shrugged and touched her face. She didn't pull away.

"At this point I nod and you talk," he said.

She laughed hard.

"You're attractive when you're demanding telephones."

"You think you can sidetrack me with secret eyes?" she asked. "What do you take me for?"

"Who gets the bed?" Kier asked, abruptly sliding back his chair slightly as if to stand up.

"You. I can fit on the couch," she said.

As before, Kier wore only jockey shorts, she his T-shirt with her panties, while the rest of their clothes dried. She glanced at him as she sipped the cup of instant coffee they had borrowed along with the ham and peaches. She wasn't going to badger him any further. She was tired of badgering men. This time Kier did not try to make love to her with his gaze. He sat circling his coffee mug with a finger.

"Well, we should sleep for a few hours before I take off."

"Meeting's not until nine a.m. the day after tomorrow."

"I'm arriving before daybreak."

"Really. And why are we arriving before daylight?"

"I am arriving before daybreak to take Tillman hostage. It's the only way to find out what is going on."

This engendered a thirty-minute argument in which neither of them made a single new point.

"Well, at least you can't win the debate by locking me in a hole," she said finally.

"Wine cellar. But forget it. You wanna come, you come."

Now she could feel herself squinting, suspicious that she was being tricked.

"When you do that, it makes each little line in your face get deeper," he told her.

They smiled, and she inexplicably knew that he wouldn't trick her again. She held his gaze for as long as she dared. In his eyes she found a knowing strength that reached to her core. On the kitchen table his large brown hand contrasted with the whiteness of hers. She wished to feel his rough hand moving over hers. Such a simple thing, she imagined, would be so pleasurable. But she felt guilty for the wish. Each move they made toward one another, each little intertwining of emotion and personality, would in the end be undone, leaving neither the better for it.

''Frank Bilotti,'' she blurted out without really having made up her mind to do so.

"Who?" he asked.

"My boss."

"Yes," he said after a long pause in which she struggled to gather her thoughts.

''And Grail is my best friend from way back. I would have trusted either of them with my life. No question. You gotta understand. Frank was my mentor. We never crossed the line, but we felt deeply about each other-or I thought we did. After I introduced them, Gail had an affair with him. He's married to Eva. First big mistake."

Kier's eyes scrutinized her.

"Got your attention, didn't I?"

He nodded slowly.

"It had been going on for months. Frank is rich, by the way. Frank inherited lots of money, and unlike most of us, he doesn't need to work. The Bureau was an interesting hobby in more ways than one. He was bringing her travel brochures and talking honeymoon when there wasn't even a divorce in sight. He said they could take their honeymoon even before they were married. I begged Gail, pleaded with her to forget him."