Kim Robinson - Sixty Days and Counting

She laughed, trembling in his arms. They hugged again, harder than ever. He was in love and she was in love and they were in love with each other. Kissing was a kind of orgasm of the feelings. He was breathing heavily, and she was too—heart pounding, blood pulsing. Frank ran a hand through her hair, feeling the tight curl, the thick springiness of it. She tilted her head back into the palm of his hand, giving herself to him.

They were in a dark knot of trees. They sat on the previous year’s mat of leaves, burrowed into them as they kissed. A lot of time was lost then, it rushed past or did not happen. Her muscles were hard and her soft spots were soft. She murmured, she hummed, she moved without volition against him.

After a while she laughed again, shook her head as if to clear it. “Let’s go somewhere and talk,” she said. “We’re not that well hidden here.”

“True.” In fact the Rock Creek Parkway, above them through the trees, was busy with cars, and in the other direction they could see a few of the lights of the Georgetown riverfront, blinking through branches.

When they were standing again she took his face in both hands and squeezed it. “I need you, Frank.”

“I knee woo too,” he said, lips squeezed vertically.

She laughed and let his face go. “Come on, let’s go get a drink,” she said. “I’ve got to tell you some stuff.”

They walked up to the footbridge over Rock Creek, then along the promenade fronting the Potomac. Down into a sunken concrete plaza, set between office buildings, where there was a row of tables outside a bar. They floated down the steps hand in hand and sat at one of them.

After they ordered (she a bloody mary, he white wine), she pressed a forefinger into the top of his thigh. “But look—another reason I had to see you—I needed to tell you, I’m pretty sure that Ed is on to who you are. I think he’s tracking you.”

“He’s been doing more than that,” Frank said. “That’s why I wanted to find you. I’ve been getting harassed these last few weeks.” He told her all that had happened, watching her mouth tighten at the corners as he described each incident. By the time he was done her mouth was turned down like an eagle’s.

“I wondered about that. That’s him all right,” she said bitterly. “That’s him all over.”

Frank nodded. “I was pretty sure.”

He had never seen her look so grim. It was frightening, in more ways than one; you would not want her angry at you.

They sat there for a few moments. Their drinks arrived and they sipped at them.

“And so…?” Frank said.

After another pause, she said slowly, “I guess I think you’ve got to disappear, like I did. Come with me and disappear for a bit. My Plan C is working out really well. I’m in the area here, and I have a solid cover identity, with a bank account and apartment lease and car and everything. I don’t think he can possibly find any of it. At this point I’m the one surveiling him, and I can see that he’s still looking, but he’s lost my trail.”

“But he’s tracking the people you were surveiling,” Frank supposed.

“I think that’s right.”

“And so, he’s figured out I must be the one who helped you get away?”

“Well—judging by what he’s doing to you, I think he might still not be quite sure about it. He may be kind of testing you, to see if you’ll jump. To see if you react like you know it’s him. And if you did, then he’d know for sure. Also, you might then lead him to me.”

“So—but that means if I disappear, then he’ll be sure I’m the one. Because I’ll have jumped, like he was looking for.”

“Yes. But he must be pretty sure anyway, that’s the thing. And then he won’t be able to find you. Which is good, because I’m just—I’m afraid what he might do.”

Frank was too, but he did not want to admit it. “Well, but I can’t—”

“I’ve got an ID all ready for you. It’s got a good legend and a deep cover. It’s just as solid as mine.”

“But I can’t leave,” Frank objected. “I mean, I have my job to do. I can’t leave that right now.” And your fucking ex can’t make me, he didn’t say.

She frowned, hesitated. Maybe her ex was worse than Frank had thought. Although what did that mean? Surely he wouldn’t—wouldn’t—

She shook her head, as if to clear it and think things through. “If there was someone at your work that you could explain the situation to, that you trusted? Maybe you could set up a system and send your work in to them, and like that.”

“A lot of it is done in meetings now. I don’t think that would work.”

“But…” She scowled. “I don’t like him knowing where you are!”

“I know. But, you know.” Frank felt confused, balked—caught. He was moving into his zone of confusion, beginning to blank out at the end of trains of thought—“I have to keep doing my job,” he heard himself say. “Maybe I could just make a strong effort to keep off the radar when I’m away from work. You know—show up for work out of the blue, be there in the office, but with everyone else, all day, in a high-security environment. Then disappear out of the office at the end of the day, and he won’t be able to find where. Maybe I could do that.”

“Maybe. That’s a lot of exposure to get away from every day.”

“I know, but—I have to.”

She was shaking her head unhappily—

“It’s okay,” he said. “I can do it. I mean it. The White House compound is a secure environment. So when I’m where they know where I am, I’ll have security. When I don’t have security, they won’t know where I am. I’d rather do it that way than stop everything I’m doing!”

“Well, that’s what I had to do!”

“Yes, but you had to, because of the election and everything.” Because you were married to him.

She was eagle-mouthed again. “But look,” she said, “you’re in on that too, okay? Thanks to me. I’m sorry about that, but it’s true, and you can’t just ignore it. That would be like I was being, when you showed up and I didn’t want to leave camp.” She sipped at her drink, thinking things over. At last she shook her head unhappily. “I’m afraid of what he might do.”

“Well, but to you too,” Frank said. “Maybe you should go back up to Mount Desert Island. I was thinking if you stayed away from your friend’s place, it would be a good place to hide.”

She shook her head more vehemently. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve got stuff I’ve gotta do here.” She glanced at him, hesitated, took another drink. She frowned, thinking things over again. Their knees were pressed together, and their hands had found each other on their own and were clutched together, as if to protest any plan their owners might make that would separate them.

“I really think you should come with me,” she said. “Get off the grid entirely.”

Frank struggled for thought.

“I can’t,” he said at last.

She grimaced. She seemed to be getting irritated with him, the pressure of her hand’s grip almost painful.

Worse yet, she let go of him, straightened up. She was somehow becoming estranged, withdrawing from him. Even angry at him. An invitation to be with her, all the time—“Listen,” Frank said anxiously, “don’t be mad at me. Tell me how we’re going to keep in touch now. We have to have a way. I have to.”

“Okay, yeah, sure.”

But she was upset by his refusal to go with her, and distracted. “We can always do a dead drop,” she said as she continued to frown over other things. “It’s simple. Pick a hidden spot where we leave notes, and only check the spot when you’re positive you’re clean, say once a week.”