“I have no doubt of that.”
He led her to a back room, opened the door, and turned on the light. The room was empty except for an easel with a canvas on it, a stool, and a cabinet on wheels loaded with art supplies. He pointed to the sole window, which looked out onto the courtyard, where a single magnificent oak soared to the sky.
“I thought that would be an inspiring subject to paint.”
She walked to the window and looked out at the specimen. “It truly will be, Walter. But I must work up to it. I have become rusty.”
“Like riding a bike, for someone like you.”
As he looked her over, he noted the lines etched more deeply on her face, how she held her arms rigidly and had shuffled along when walking, which he concluded probably came from being shackled to move from place to place. There was an elevated distance in her gaze, as though objects near her did not really come within focus. In her voice, he had detected the diminishment of her spirit that no doubt came when one’s liberty was taken away.
“How about some hot tea?” he suggested. “It’s chilly out there.”
“Yes, tea would be good,” she said listlessly.
They sat in the kitchen. He poured the hot water over the tea bags, and they let it steep for a few minutes. There was a small balcony accessed by a sliding door off the kitchen. On the balcony was a raised planter that Nash had put together and filled with dirt.
“You mentioned the garden you worked at with Hiroko-san back in Japan. This is nothing like that, but you can get your hands dirty come the springtime.”
“It was very thoughtful,” she replied. “Very thoughtful.”
“I wanted this to be. . .as. . .hopeful a day as possible, Victoria-san.”
“I am to be called Jenny Lee now,” said Steers as she took a sip of her tea. “I received this information from the authorities. “
“Well, I can tell you from experience that a new name and life isn’t so bad.”
“I have always liked the name Jenny. I am sure I will get used to it.”
“I understand they’ve lined up work for you?” said Nash.
She nodded. “Ironically, as a drug counselor. I received some training while in prison. I will receive more before I start. It is close by here, they tell me.”
“Actually, close enough to walk or ride a bike,” said Nash. When she looked at him in surprise he said, “I asked them. And I got you a bike, with a basket and a bell. It’s in the laundry room off the kitchen.”
She smiled at him. “Thank you, that was very kind.”
She drew up a sleeve. “They wanted me to have surgeries to fix my damaged flesh. It was the only time I refused them while in that place.”
“Why did they want that?”
“It is an identifier of Victoria Steers. They wanted to do it for my protection. Against my enemies still out there.”
“Why did you refuse then?”
She looked up at him, and in her expression Nash saw a little bit of the old Steers: defiance, pride, resoluteness.
“Because I do not deserve to be protected. I am what I am. And if I live many years in peace, or die soon and violently, it will be on those terms.Myterms.”
They both stared off for a few moments and then Nash asked the question he had been waiting to ask: “Did you know Connor Lord had figured out so much?”
“You must assume that a man such as he will know as much as you know, if not more.”
“So when you let him capture us? He could have killed us. Not taken us to the warehouse.”
“I was counting on the fact that at that point, I knew a little bit more than he did. About himself.”
“I don’t understand.”