Wanted: Undead or Alive

Pomegranates

I sat on the grassy hill beside the post office for an hour. The sun sank low in the western sky, throwing long shadows across the village streets where rusty old cars rattled by at regular intervals. A woman strolled past, pushing a stroller. A toddler ran circles around her, making ten steps to every one of hers. A stray dog approached me, sniffed my hand, peed on a nearby bush. Concerns about being kicked off government property or arrested for vagrancy after dark began to creep up in my mind. Just about the time I started wondering if I could barter housekeeping services in return for a room in a local inn, a black Mercedes GLE rolled to a stop at the bottom of the hill.

An albino man with a chauffeur's cap pulled low over his forehead and dark glasses covering his eyes emerged from the car and called to me in a thick accent that may have been Greek. Hard to say. Mostly, I've encountered Midwestern American accents, so I'm admittedly ignorant about accents in addition to the great many other things I'm ignorant about. "You are Olivia Nowicki?"

"Yeah, that's me." I stood up and dusted bits of grass from my backside.

"I am Abtin. Nicolai called me. He said his agent needs a ride."

Okay. Well, I'd been hoping for a phone call, but this would work. "I don't exactly have a passport, or any cash, or a way to get back to America," I confessed.

He opened the back door of the SUV. "We will take care of details. He asked me to drive you to his family's estate. There, you can dine and spend the night. In the morning, you may take their plane back to America. It is a private craft. The passport will be no issue."

I was pretty sure that even people on private aircraft had to go through customs, but spending the night in a family estate sounded a good deal better than spending it on the post office lawn.

The air in the Mercedes was a perfect seventy-two degrees and smelled like clean leather. Abtin handed me a cloth sack, and I opened it to find a sandwich, a pomegranate, and a bottle of water. I wasn't sure I wanted food just then, but the water slid down my throat like dew drops from heaven.

We passed through the village and began climbing the hill on a switchback path that cut through the rocky, tree-covered landscape. I tucked the empty water bottle back into the bag and leaned forward, resting my arms on my knees. "Have you known Nick for a long time?" The rearview mirror offered me a view of the man's sunglasses and not much more.

"Yes," he said.

"Did you grow up together?"

He made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a giggle. "No."

"But you work for him?"

"No."

"But you're working for him today?" I asked.

"No."

The shiver that rippled through my shoulders and across the nape of my neck had nothing to do with the cool air coming out of the vents. Hadn't every woman, from birth, been taught not to get in a stranger's car? "But you said he asked you to pick me up."

"We are almost there," he said. "We are not going far."

I sat back in my seat and took stock of my situation. The SUV's doors had locked automatically when he'd put the car in drive. Nothing about them looked odd. It seemed I should be able to throw it open at any moment. Then again, I'd be thwarted by an obstacle as simple as a child safety lock. And if I jumped from the car and started running, then what? Where could I go? I didn't even know where I was.

Over the past few days, how many times had people told me my ignorance would get me killed? I needed to avoid acting out of ignorance. I needed more information.