'Did they put you here because I'm here?' I was still trying to understand.
'No.'
'You didn't hug me when I came in.' It occurred to me as I got up. I kissed her cheek, and she stiffened, pulling away from my arms. 'You've been smoking.' I sat back down.
'Who told you that?'
'No one needs to tell me. I can smell it in your hair.'
'You hugged me because you wanted to see if I smell like cigarettes.'
'And you didn't hug me because you know you smell like cigarettes.'
'You're nagging me.'
'I most certainly am not,' I said.
'You are. You're worse than Grans,' she said.
'Who is in the hospital because she smoked,' I said, holding her intense green gaze.
'Since you know my secret, I may as well light up now.'
'This is a nonsmoking room. In fact, nothing is allowed in this room,' I said.
'Nothing?' She did not blink.
'Absolutely nothing.'
'You drink coffee in here. I know. I've heard you zap it in the microwave when we've been on the phone.'
'Coffee is all right.'
'You said nothing. To many people on this planet, coffee is a vice. I bet you drink alcohol in here, too.'
'Lucy, please don't smoke.'
She slipped a pack of Virginia Slim menthols out of a pocket. 'I'll go outside,' she said.
I opened windows so she could smoke, unable to believe she had taken up a habit I had shed much blood to quit. Lucy was athletic and superbly fit. I told her I did not understand.
'I'm flirting with it. I don't do it much.'
'Who moved you into my suite? Let's get back to that,' I asked as she puffed away.
'They moved me.'
'Who» is they?'
'Apparently, the order came from the top.'
'Burgess?' I referred to the assistant director in charge of the Academy.
She nodded. 'Yes.'
'What would his purpose be?' I frowned.
She tapped an ash into her palm. 'No one's told me a reason. I can only suppose it's related to ERF, to CAIN.' She paused. 'You know, the weird messages, et cetera.'
'Lucy,' I said, 'what exactly is going on?'
'We don't know,' she spoke levelly. 'But something is.'
'Gault?'
'There's no evidence that anyone's been in the system — no one who isn't supposed to be.'
'But you believe someone has.'
She inhaled deeply, like veteran smokers do. 'CAIN is not doing what we're telling him to do. He's doing something else, getting his instruction from somewhere else.'
'There's got to be a way to track that,' I said.
Her eyes sparked. 'Believe me, I'm trying.'
'I'm not questioning your efforts or ability.'
'There's no trail,' she went on. 'If someone is in there, he's leaving no tracks. And that's not possible. You can't just go into the system and tell it to send messages or do anything else without the audit log reflecting it. And we have a printer running morning, noon and night that prints every keystroke made by anybody for any reason.'
'Why are you getting angry?' I said.
'Because I'm tired of being blamed for the problems over there. The break-in wasn't my fault. I had no idea that someone who worked right next to me…' She took another drag. 'Well, I only said I'd fix it because I was asked to. Because the senator asked me to. Or asked you, really…'
'Lucy, I'm not aware that anyone is blaming you for problems with CAIN,' I said gently.
Anger burned brighter in her eyes. 'If I'm not being blamed, I wouldn't have been assigned to a room up here. What this constitutes is house arrest.'
'Nonsense. I stay here every time I come to Quantico, and I'm certainly not under house arrest.'
'They put you here for security and privacy,' she said. 'But that's not why I'm here. I'm being blamed again. I'm being watched. I can tell it in the way certain people are treating me over there.' She nodded in the direction of ERF, which was across the street from the Academy.
'What happened today?' I asked.
She went into the kitchen, ran water over the cigarette butt and dropped it into the disposal. She sat back down and didn't say anything. I studied her and got more unsettled.
She sat back down and didn't say anything. I studied her and got more unsettled. I did not know why she was this angry, and whenever she acted in a way that could not be explained, I was frightened again.
Lucy's car accident could have been fatal. Her head injury could have ruined her most remarkable gift, and I was assaulted by images of hematomas and a skull fractured like a hard-boiled egg. I thought of the woman we called Jane with her shaved head and scars, and I imagined Lucy in places where no one knew her name.
'Have you been feeling all right?' I asked my niece.