Michael

twenty-three

Miggs had left hours ago. He, Harry and Nicole had opted to remain at the abbey too rather than risk being picked up by the militia. They were assuming that with Ruth's revelations now public, the gloves would be off and every attempt made to silence her and anyone who'd had contact with her. They were using the study, as it was comfortable and well equipped. No one wanted to be alone, and by unspoken agreement, anyone needing to leave the room was accompanied. It was now close to midnight and pitch-black outside. Everyone jumped when the cloister, visible beyond the French-doors, suddenly lit up for no apparent reason. They looked at one another with various degrees of alarm and confusion.

"We're all here," Harry pointed out. "None of us could have tripped a security light."

"What about wildlife?" suggested Cabrera as he walked over to the glazed doors. His gut was telling him it wasn't anything so harmless, but he didn't want anyone panicking. They'd done their best to lure Thane here to talk. There was no point in getting hysterical because he'd been obliging enough to accept the offer.

Cabrera had spent several hours in the cloister earlier. It was pretty and peaceful. There was a lush square of lawn in the centre, surrounded by a roofed walkway. Benches were dotted here and there on the grass. Now the cloisters were in utter darkness, highlighting even more starkly the figure of a man clearly visible in the bright patch of security lighting. He was sitting on a bench with one arm lightly resting along the back of the seat.

"He's here," Cabrera announced bluntly.

"Are you sure? Is Liz with him?" asked Harry, joining him at the doors.

Ruth and Nicole came over too. "I thought he'd go for a bigger entrance," joked Ruth, failing to hide her spiking tension. "This is far too subtle."

"I can't see Liz." Cabrera answered Harry. He unlocked the doors and pushed them open. "Let's go and ask him where she is."

Ruth was wrong, thought Cabrera, as he led the small group out into the dark walkway. He wasn't surprised Thane had chosen this way of advertising his presence. This tactic forced them to come to him, drawing them out from under his roof, and essentially exposing them. Smart and, yes, subtle. Under other circumstances, Cabrera would have appreciated such an understated power play.

Thane's dark hair was cut short. He had a powerful, athletic build highlighted by a t-shirt a shade too small. Long legs were dressed in combats and finished off with military style-boots: militia uniform no doubt taken during the failed ambush. Even sitting, it was obvious he was a good deal taller than average. Cabrera noted the details by rote the closer he got to the bench and its occupant. His initial impression was the same as when he'd first read Thane's stats-he was a big bastard.

Now, for the first time, he could look right into Thane's eyes. The brown of his irises looked black in this light. They also revealed intelligence and deep mistrust.

And there was no mole.

Cabrera halted with Harry at his side. He left a two-meter gap for politeness' sake. Considering the circumstances and recent history, he skipped any pleasantries. "I'm glad you caught our message," he said simply. "We need to talk."

"Why would I want to talk to you?" Thane's accent was definitely American, with no obvious regional connotations.

Cabrera had been prepared for hostility, and was damned grateful there was none in evidence. Was cold indifference preferable? "It's in everyone's interest to make the truth known about you and your father."

Thane smiled sardonically, saying, "You mean you want to clear your name?"

"No, I want to clear yours," Cabrera returned evenly. "Mine is less important. No one's threatening mass violence over my supposed actions."