Prism - By Rachel Moschell Page 0,94
could give you a tour. But for now, my job is to make sure you aren’t spooked and run away. You already met Sandal and Tabor.” Mr. Cole looked over towards the door, but the two who had come to the hospital were already gone.
“Oh, they’ll be back,” Mr. Cole assured Wara in a tone that told her he had read her mind as she wondered if they had been angels and disappeared into thin air. “I’m sure they just went to change out of those clothes. I don’t have your names,” Mr. Cole told them quietly.
“I’m Alejo.” Alejo held out his hand as Mr. Cole reached forward to shake it firmly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Cole.”
“Please call me Rupert.” Rupert’s eyes crinkled slightly again. “My father was Mr. Cole.”
Rupert’s gaze fell on Wara, and she slowly pulled the hat and fake braid off her head, leaving her own hair falling in disarray around her shoulders. “I’m Wara Cadogan,” she told him smally, shaking one thick, rough hand with her own.
Rupert motioned them towards the brown leather couches. “Please don’t run away just yet. The reason you’re here is because I have a job offer for you, which I’ll tell you about when you’re ready. But for now, I really want to help you, however I can. I know things are a little up in the air right now, to say the least. I work for an organization that can help.”
Wara followed Alejo in taking a seat on the couch, across from Rupert Cole. Alejo regarded the older man calmly, face giving nothing away. “How do you know about us?” he asked. Rupert’s cool blue eyes flashed.
“I had a dream about you, Alejo. Now before you laugh, it’s not like this happens all the time. This is only the third time God showed me something in a dream.”
Another dream? Wara crossed her arms and leaned back into the cool leather of the couch, feeling a little out of her element. Alejo did not appear at all fazed. After all, he had known they would be coming here. With Tabor and Sandal. Rupert was continuing.
“So, what I saw was a man with a gun against his forehead. The gun fired. I assume that was you?”
Alejo nodded a little uncomfortably, probably remembering the scene at Pairumani.
“And yet here you are,” Rupert waved one burly forearm, “at my house, safe and sound. I saw you being carried into the hospital, and a girl with dark hair and a star over her head was standing near the door, crying. I saw the sign on the hospital: Univalle. It was as clear as day. I was about to follow you inside, Alejo, when a man grabbed my arm and said, ‘They will look for him because of what happened to the bus.’ Now in my dream, I understood exactly what he was talking about: the Death Road bus accident. Which may not have been an accident. Am I right?”
Rupert’s calm gaze searched Alejo’s face, which had grown very serious. “It wasn’t an accident,” Alejo admitted in a low voice. “How did you know?”
“My brother Robert Cole works at the embassy, and took a call from a man who talked about that bus, and told him the American girl was still alive and with him. In my dream I saw her with a star. And here you are.” Rupert nodded at Wara. “Wara. Aymara for star.”
“Listen,” he sighed and continued lowly, “the truth is, the both of you are in a heap of trouble, and I believe I’m supposed to help you. From the little I know, you,” he jerked a thumb in Alejo’s direction, “are in a lot of trouble. You’ve broken Bolivian law and, I assume, have people from your organization after you. And you,” Rupert looked at Wara steadily but kindly, “are in trouble because you know things you shouldn’t know and have seen things that no civilian who was just riding a bus should have to see. Neither of you can just go back into your old lives, just show up in society as you were. I think you both understand that.”
Wara felt hot tears prick her eyes.
Rupert heaved a sigh and then said, “There’s a reason I sent Tabor and Sandal to get you out of that hospital so quickly after my dream. I was relieved to see your faces here in my living room, because I wondered if I would get to you in time. Come with