He had slept through the early evening, and dropped by Lisa Marie’s party long enough to have one glass of champagne and watch the ball drop over Times Square. He had kissed her good-bye and gone to the office.
He snapped on the lights and was going through his top drawer, looking for the stimulants that would keep him sharp for the next couple of days, when there was a light knock on the open door.
He looked up. “Aurora?”
She nodded and sat down in a chair by the door.
“Where have you been? We’ve—”
“Cabo de Cristobal. Cojímar, Holguín, Havana.”
“¿Y?”
“I want to know who you are.”
He didn’t blink. “I am who I am.”
“Who you are, who you work for, and how you managed to wind up in charge of this enterprise, whatever it actually is. You might explain the spaceship part, too.”
“Or what? What will you do?”
“What we used to say was ‘I’ll blow the whistle on you.’ Expose you.”
“But you say you don’t know what I am.”
“What you aren’t is Pepe Parker. There is no such animal. Birth records stolen from Cabo de Cristobal. Grade school burned to the ground. High school records destroyed in the Outage of thirty-nine—”
“Everybody’s were.”
“Most of them were restored. There’s no actual record of your existence until you began graduate work at the University of Havana. After your doctorate, you got a blue card and came here.”
Pepe realized he was sweating. He wiped his face with a handkerchief. This couldn’t be happening.
“So tell me what’s going on. Or I’ll blow the whole thing up.”
“You can’t do that.”
“I can indeed. And if something happens to me, Norman—”
“No, no. I wasn’t threatening you. What I mean is you mustn’t.”
“I’m willing to be convinced. You could start by telling me who you work for.”
“Humanity. I work for all humanity.”
“That’s no answer.”
The phone buzzed and he pushed the button. A dim gray picture of a man in NASA fatigues who spoke over the low thrum of a helicopter. “Dr. Parker? We’re closing on Gainesville. Be on your roof in four or five minutes?”
“Gracias. I’ll be waiting.”
They signed off. “So you’re going to the Cape,” Rory said.
“As you would have. I’m sorry I can’t invite you along.”
“I’m still a wanted woman?”
“They call about once a week, the FBI. They’ve never explained anything.” He found the pills and popped one, crunching down on its bitterness. “All-nighter, I’m afraid.”
“I guess I could go to the FBI. Tell them what I know, what I don’t know.”
“No! Please!” He snapped open his attaché case and checked its contents. “Let’s make a deal.”
“I’m listening.”
“Just watch what happens today. Afterward, we can talk forever about it. If you want to blow your whistle then, I won’t stop you.” He closed the case. “Right now I have to catch that helicopter and go join the festivities.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a key ring. “Here—stay at my place. You know where it is?”
“Still over at Creekside?”
“Yes, 203. Your place might not be safe.”
“Okay. You’ve got a deal. But tell me this … do you know who they are? The aliens?”
“I … I really can’t say.”
“But they aren’t actually aliens, are they?”
He looked at her silently for a second. “As alien as me.”
They both heard the whisper of the helicopter approaching, the pitch of the blades deepening as it landed. He kissed her on the cheek and ran out the door.