Gwendy’s Final Task

GWENDY BLOWS BY A couple of sweatpant-wearing, AirPod-equipped Chinese women halfway around the rim. They give her a startled look but return her wave. Kathy Lundgren hadn’t been exaggerating earlier when she’d boasted about running a two-minute mile. Not by much, anyway. Gwendy hasn’t gone for an actual run in over a decade, but it feels as if she’s nearly flying. When she gets back to her suite in Spoke 3 her shirt is damp with sweat and she’s breathing hard, but she feels more like her old self. She still feels the siren call of the button box when she passes the closet door, but it’s not the imperative it was before. More like simple longing. An ache. Sort of like the one she feels for Ryan. It’s awful to think of the button box and her dead husband in the same category, but that seems to be the case. Gwendy’s glad to feel better again but knows it will come at a cost; she’s already starting to lose her crystal clarity of thought. Soon the fog will descend again, and maybe thicker than ever.

The message light is flashing on her laptop. She enters the password that will transform the gibberish of letters and symbols into words (delighted she doesn’t have to use the little red notebook to refresh her memory). The message is from Charlotte, and it’s entirely satisfying.

Trust you completely. Team on the move to Derry. You will get a video record of Detective Mitchell’s interrogation, hopefully tomorrow, your Day 3 on the MF. I understand there were some concerns about your mental abilities up there. Although I will be on pins & needles until your mission is completed, that made me laugh. Can’t imagine anyone less likely to “lose the plot,” as they say.

How does the Sombra Corporation figure into this? Any idea? You can read a certain amount about it on the Net, but it’s mostly speculation. We at the Company know more, but not a hell of a lot. They keep a tight lid. Best guess is that their aggregate worth may be greater than that of China and the U.S. combined. Hard to believe but I’m assured it’s almost certainly true. If so, they make WinMark LTD, Winston’s company, look small in comparison. Not to mention Amazon. So yes, it’s possible Gareth Winston might be working with or even for the Sombra Corp if the reward was great enough. No way to tell. All I can say is BE CAREFUL.

C

Gwendy reads this over three times. She has to, because the sense of some lines is getting a bit dim. Her anger is also dimming out. What remains is focused on Detective Mitchell, him with his dismissive little smile and empty eyes. Also the Magowan button on his shirt, don’t forget that. No, she hasn’t forgotten it (at least not yet). She wants that video. She wants to see him away from his strangely shitty little city, in a small room with soundproof walls, preferably in a black hood that will be whipped off once he’s been wrist- and ankle-chained to the table. Gwendy supposes they don’t do it that way anymore; she’s sure that the CIA has drug cocktails which will render the likes of Ward Mitchell entirely pliable, but …

“But a girl can dream,” she says softly.

She showers off her sweat, then goes down to the weather deck. She’s scheduled for a video conference with the National Weather Service at 4 PM Eastern time. That’s hours from now, but she has to get out of here. For the time being, at least, being close to the button box isn’t safe.

31

DAY 3 ON MANY Flags.

Gwendy is at the desk in the small living room of her suite, going over stacks of appropriation requests. She’s thinking that a single look at this untidy pile of paperwork would cause anyone with the idea that the life of a United States Senator is glamorous to think again.