Chlorine and Shadows

Arthur's vitamin regime had become elaborate lately — a constellation of pills spread across his bathroom counter each morning, like a ritual for a man who'd spent forty years lying to people for a living.

The fedora was ridiculous, he knew. A relic. But in this hotel pool in Cyprus, surrounded by Russian oligarchs and their third wives, it helped him blend into the caricature of himself.

He adjusted the hat's brim against the Mediterranean sun and watched her swim.

She was elegant in the water, slicing through the blue with economical strokes. Her red cap was the only bright thing in the muted scene. Arthur checked his watch again. The meet was scheduled for 2:00 PM. It was 2:03.

She'd been swimming for forty minutes now. Long past any reasonable exercise routine. Unless she wasn't exercising.

Unless she was waiting.

Arthur felt the old thrill sharpen his senses — the vitamin supplements suddenly very far away. He'd left the Service three years ago after Prague, after the asset codenamed BEAR had gone south and taken Arthur's partner with her. He'd promised himself: no more. The divorce had finalized six months after that. Some things you don't come back from.

The swimmer hauled herself from the pool. She moved to the lounge chair beside his, water streaming from her body like she was made of mercury.

She adjusted a swimsuit strap with deliberate fingers. Then she picked up a vitamin bottle from her own table — identical to his — and popped two capsules into her palm.

"D3 with K2," she said, without looking at him. "Doctor's orders. We're not getting any younger, Arthur."

His chest tightened. "I don't know who you think—"

"Please." She finally turned. Her eyes were the same gray as the pool tiles. "You're wearing the hat. You're checking the exits. You've been watching me for forty minutes, and you haven't once actually seen me swim."

She leaned closer. Her wet hair plastered her neck. "I'm not here to recruit you. I'm here because Prague never really ended. And someone on our side is cleaning up loose ends."

Arthur's mouth went dry.

"You're on the list," she said softly. "I thought maybe you'd like to know why your ex-wife's new husband works for the same people who burned us in Prague."

The vitamin pills in Arthur's hand suddenly felt like they might crush to powder.

"Who sent you?" he whispered.

She smiled — a dangerous, knowing thing. "I was Bear's handler, Arthur. I'm the only reason you're still alive. And I'm about to do something very stupid. I could use a man who's good at lying."

She stood up, water slicking her thighs. "We leave in one hour. Pack light. And bring the vitamins. They're going to think you're meeting your dealer."

Arthur watched her walk away, the chlorinated air suddenly thick with everything he'd tried to leave behind. He touched the brim of his ridiculous hat.

Some things you don't come back from. Some things, apparently, come back for you.