Page 139 of Two Marlboros

“I don’t have proof, if that’s the question, but I’m pretty sure, yes. And he certainly must have done it on Waitch’s orders.”

As he finished saying that sentence, gradually his eyes widened and he began to grit his teeth more and more; then he looked around, as if those walls could no longer guarantee his safety - after all, criminals have eyes and ears everywhere.

“They will find me, won’t they? They will.”

He brought a hand to his mouth and began biting his nails, walking back and forth from the hall to the kitchenette, with wide strides and a longer path than last time.

“If William talked to you,” he continued again, as his tone of voice got higher and higher, “why shouldn’t he talk to them? He will tell the version that will allow him to come clean and leave me and everyone else in the lurch. I know it!”

I got up from the couch and approached him, putting myself in his path. As soon as he approached, I tried to restrain him with my arms, but he dodged them and continued pacing, completely ignoring my attempts to placate him.

“Calm down, Michael,” Ash intervened. “You can tell everything at the police station, and we’ll see if and how to get you into a protection program. If you decide to cooperate, I’m sure we’ll find a way to resolve even the little misunderstanding about the sick leave.”

Michael stopped in front of us and stared, then stopped torturing his fingernails. He sighed, undecided whether to answer us or not, but opted for silence. Ash decided it was time to go, but not before he slipped Michael his business card, after which he intimated to him not to do anything stupid, such as attempting to escape. I was fairly confident that he would show up at the police station, but we couldn’t take anything for granted. If he decided to come out, he would have to watch out for enemies, but no less for friends.

When we got out of there, I felt lighter. Suddenly I regained the pleasure of living, of thinking about the evening ahead oreven just what to make for dinner; the catastrophic images about Church, my vocation and the problems of my life had been washed away by the sun shining and seeming to smile at me, as if to reward me for all the anxiety I had been carrying around.

The car was not far away, but all that heat, together with the long sleeves, made my back sweat. As soon as we got into the car and I felt the breeze of the air conditioning on my face, I felt myself coming back.

“What are we going to do with Ryan?” Ash asked and turned on the car soon after. “If Cossner comes to confirm his story, I believe there is every basis for arrest. We’ve exposed ourselves so much by now, and I think the danger of escape for him has increased.”

I nodded. Ashton was right: it was now no longer time to dither. It was very likely that the meeting between Michael and William had led to a passing of information, likely reaching the ears of Ryan and the famous Waitch. If there was a time to make an arrest, that was certainly it.

“Alright, let’s coordinate with Church. I, too, believe the arrest is the sensible thing to do at this time.”

We had obtained interesting information and more or less predictable confirmations. Michael was hiding and he was a small fish, unaware of the decisions of the higher-ups. I found that version credible and became convinced that Mr. and Mrs. Cossner were completely uninvolved in the matter. The character I found most ambiguous at the time was the singer of the Wit Matrix. It was likely that he had not told false information, but only omitted certain details, and he could always defend himself with the excuse that he had not been solicited on certain topics.

Instead, I did not feel like talking to Ash about Nathan. Not only because of what had happened between us, but also because I wanted to try to talk to him about it first about that businessof the note - assuming our relationship wasn’t already dead forever.

My colleague put on some music from a radio station, and we let the notes of the song on the air fill the air for a few minutes.

“Did you hear him?” Ash asked suddenly.

We were stopped at a traffic light. I looked around. “Who?”

The traffic was the usual endless column of cars, and I hadn’t heard any crashes or yelling. Ash chuckled and I guessed the meaning of his question the same instant he answered me.

“I’m talking about Nathan.”

I lost a beat, perhaps for him, perhaps for the almost near crash in front of our eyes.

“No, not yet.”

The light turned green, and we set off again.

“Weren’t you supposed to ask him out?”

“I was supposed to ask himto see each other,” I pointed out annoyed.

“Whatever, in your case it’s the same thing.”

“What do you mean?”

Another red light and another song. A Chevrolet pulled up next to us, and the smell of wild pine perfume wafted into our cabin.

“In my opinion, you look good together. If it weren’t for what happened to you, I think I would have pushed you to get to know him a little better.”

“I don’t know, we are so different. I don’t think there could be anything like that.”

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