Marie positioned the phone on a corner table to take the room in its viewing angle and attached a speaker extension. Evidently, the proceedings were to be monitored remotely. Cade wondered how normal it was for any face-to-face contact to be permitted at all in a first meeting. It seemed dangerous. Had they relaxed their usual precautions, perhaps because Marie had vouched for him?
“We need you sitting here, Rebecca,” Marie said, waving to indicate the nearest of the two beds. “You can munch while we talk.” Rebecca moved the coats aside and sat down. “Roland, I’m going to have to ask you to take a walk outside with Len,” Marie said. “You’ll get to talk later. I’m sure I don’t have to explain.” Cade nodded, shrugged in a way that said it was okay, selected a sandwich to take with the coffee cup he was holding, and moved to the door. Just before Len opened it, Rebecca got up again, went into the bathroom, and came back out with a towel, which she spread by her on the bed to put her sandwich plate on. “Okay? Let’s get started,” Cade heard Marie say as Len closed the door behind them, hanging the “Do Not Disturb” sign outside.
He sipped his coffee and stood, looking around. The van was gone—or at least, moved from the slot it had been in. Extending away beyond the fence were the trappings of what could have been the outskirts of virtually any city. In the distance, however, in a direction that Cade judged to be the west or south from the position of the sun, stood a high, flat-topped mountain, forming one side of a valley. He had noticed that the room’s call terminal carried the area code 423. Offhand, he didn’t know where that was. Two hours driving from Atlanta? . . . But then, he didn’t know if all of that had been in the same direction.
“Kestrel suggested we take a walk,” Len said. “Let’s walk.”
“Kestrel?” Cade grinned. “Is that what you call her these days?” Len grunted, seemingly irked at having given away more than necessary. They moved to the end of the block and stood chewing sandwiches and finishing their coffees. Then they crossed to a dumpster standing on a corner of the parking lot to dispose of the cups. Vehicles were parked here and there. It was early yet for the evening arrivals to begin showing up. Cade saw license plates from Georgia, Alabama, Tennessee, one from Florida, another, Indiana. It didn’t really tell him much. They strolled back to the room. The sign was still hanging outside the door. They made another circuit of the block. When they came back, the sign had gone. Len knocked, and Marie let them back in.
Now it was Cade’s turn to talk to the camera and answer questions. Len stayed, while Rebecca left with Marie. There were no surprises. Cade told his story as it had happened, omitting details of precisely who had initiated the contact into CounterAction for him, because he wasn’t asked. The question that caused him the most difficulty was regarding his motivation: Why had he done it? Why had he gotten involved? He couldn’t say it was to help with their cause—truth was, he had never given much thought to it. His own life was pretty comfortable, thanks to no one else, because he had made it that way. It was up to others to worry about what he considered to be their problems. He didn’t feel that whoever he was talking to would appreciate a discourse on personal philosophies of that nature, however.
“Julia—the person I’m with now. It seemed important to her,” he said. “Apparently, they were close friends back in college. . . . I guess I just wanted to do what I could. I didn’t have any thought then of getting involved.” He gestured to indicate the room he was in. “Not like this.” Which was true; but somehow not enough. Cade didn’t find it satisfying.
“There was nothing of a more . . . `personal’ nature, maybe?” the voice from the phone speaker queried.
Cade sat back, jolted by the question. “No. . . .” But he wasn’t sure. He realized how impossible this would have been had Marie remained present.