The Langley Case: A Nathan Roeder Mystery

I think I’m in love with Nathan Roeder

I have to say, I was a bit confused by his comment. I mean, I didn’t exactly expect him to feel the same way about me that I felt about him; not yet, anyway. I knew that a large part of my fascination with Nathan wasn’t him. He had taken on mythic proportions in my mind. He was the one who saved me from a face worth than death: my life. He saved me from all the things The Albino would have forced me to do. I used to be a hooker; I know what those things are.

I love saying that. I used to be a hooker. Used to. Past tense.

Anyway, I couldn’t expect Nathan to feel that way. I didn’t expect him to want my body as badly as I wanted his. A part of me even knew that my infatuation with him probably would not survive our sex unscathed. I would have what I wanted, assuming he was good in bed, and I’d be able to think a bit straighter. Chances are, I wouldn’t want him as much after that first time.

But I did want him. And I knew it. And he wanted me. I could tell.

So why would he say that he would risk my life, rather than that he would risk his?

“Why are you so sure that he’s planning to betray us?” I asked.

“Partially it’s the subservience. He called me boss. That doesn’t square with someone who wanted to be a partner.” She bit her lower lip. “Partially it’s the lack of fear.”

“What lack of fear?” He’d seemed pretty nervous to me.

“Johnny wasn’t as nervous as he should be. Wasn’t as nervous as you’d expect someone who thinks they’ve signed their own death warrant. Certainly not as angry as you’d think he would be at me, if I told him to do it.”

That made sense. “So what else tipped you off? Maybe he’s going to double cross them.”

Nathan shook his head. I like the lines of his face. “No,” he said. “If he was playing our side, he would have been straight with us. That symbol exists somewhere, other than on the bodies.”

“How do you know?”

He smiled at me. He has a great, winning smile. “Because how else would the first victim have gotten on the list?”

“What?”

“Everyone who died with that symbol carved onto their body died within two days of researching that symbol, right?”

“Right.” It clicked into place. “So if the symbol didn’t exist anywhere but on the bodies, the first victim couldn’t have researched it.”

“You’re a sharp one, sister.”

I don’t entirely understand some of the things Nathan says. But I can hear a compliment a mile away. “So then it’s got to exist somewhere else,” I said.

“Besides the cover of Oliver’s diary,” Nathan said. “Which is why we need to look more in depth into Oliver.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We can’t look up the symbol itself,” he said. “It draws too much attention.”

“But they’re already trying to kill you.”

He laughed. “Yes,” he said. “But they don’t know how to track me. Until and unless I do something that will draw their attention enough to pass through whatever I do to cover my tracks, we’ll be safe. Or at least, safer than we were.”

“But can’t they track your PDA?” I asked.

He raised an eyebrow. Apparently, he hadn’t thought of that. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” I said, “I’ve been reading what my PDA can do, and one of the features is that it broadcasts a GPS signal. That means that wherever it is in the world, I can find it, so long as I know the code for my PDA.”

“So if they know the code for mine, they’ll be able to track me.”

I nodded.

“Fuck,” he said. He scratched his chin. “Okay, good to know. Another piece of the plan.”

“What is the plan, anyway?”

“First part of the plan is to look into Oliver. He had some experience with this symbol. If we could find what that was, we might find the connection. Once we can connect the symbol to a person, and we know who that person is, we can close this bad boy up, and be free and clear.”

“Okay,” I said. “How does your PDA fit into that?”

He placed it in the pouch of the seat in front of him. “If they’re going to track me, let them,” he said. He popped a little disc out of it and slipped that into his pocket. Then he asked me for my PDA and put a note in it.

“What’s THE BAN?” I asked.

His eyes sparkled a little bit. “What did you say?”

“I said, what’s the ban? You have that written in your little note. Six letters. T-H-E-B-A-N. The ban. What does that mean?”

He laughed a little. “Damned if I know,” he said.

I gave him my confused look. I’ve been using that a lot lately. I think I’m in over my head. Best to change the subject, maybe. “What about the meeting tomorrow?”

“What about it?”

“Are we really going to see your office?” I asked.

He shook his head. “My guess is, my office is booby trapped. Bombed.”

“So why did you want to meet there?”

“I figure one of two things is going to happen,” he said. “Either they’re going to tell Johnny that it’s bombed or they’re not going to mention it to him. If he wants to meet somewhere else, I know it’s bombed.”

“What if he agrees to meet us there, but comes late?”

He scratched his chin again. “Good point. I guess we’ll try to meet somewhere else, no matter what. Unless we can get him to agree to meet us there and arrive first.”

“Might that just mean that he didn’t switch sides on you?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. One hand started to rub through his hair. It was a very attractive gesture. The word cute doesn’t seem to fit Nathan. I don’t think he’d like it. But damn it, I think that motion was cute. “I need to clear my head.”

It was like he was reading my mind. “Me too,” I said. “Maybe we can help one another out on that score.”

“Why Mrs. Robinson, are you trying to seduce me?”

I had no idea what the hell he was talking about. But he said the s-word. My second favorite s-word. “Yes,” I said. “I am.”

He smiled, but didn’t look convinced.

I read somewhere that actions speak louder than words, so I leaned forward, pressed my lips against his, and presented my argument. As my tongue made its points, I let my hands drift and search all over his body, trying to convince him as best I could.

We didn’t stay on the train for very long.

As we moved into the hotel room, a new hotel this time, and crashed together onto the bed, I tried not to think about how I would feel after we were done. I tried not to worry about whether I’d still feel the same way about him. I tried not to get sad for the crash down to Earth he would inevitably take once I saw him at his most vulnerable.

As we did the deed, and he proved to be as good as I’d hoped he would be, I wondered if I would ever look at him the same, if he would ever look at me the same. Would we be friends after this? Colleagues? Would he feel the need to play the part of the gallant boyfriend? Was I getting into a commitment?

I didn’t know where things were going, and a large part of me, at the time, didn’t care. I couldn’t have stopped things if I’d wanted to. And I didn’t want to.

But still, that part of me, as I lay panting next to him, when all was said and done (and done, and done), wondered if it had been a mistake. Maybe I should have found someone else, gotten that clear head, and then turned my sights on Nathan.

Maybe then I’d understand how I felt about him a little better.

Maybe.