The stranger smiled, though how she knew this, she wasn't entirely sure. She couldn't see his mouth through the forest of his beard.
"When you are ready to know, you will find the answer here." He pressed a grimy hand over his heart.
She raised an eyebrow. "What are you? Some kind of mystic?"
This time she did see his smile. "Some days I believe I am. We must talk, Samantha. There is a small cafe just around the corner that serves excellent coffee. It would be ideal."
He made a sweeping movement with his hand, indicating she should precede him. She didn't budge.
"Tell me one good reason why I should go with you."
The stranger regarded her for a moment, brown eyes intense and somewhat sad. "The answers you seek will not be found in the man you protect within this building."
She glanced briefly at the building. "What do you know about Allars?"
"I know he cannot help you." He hesitated and crossed his arms. It was an oddly defensive gesture. "At the very least, you owe me ten minutes of your time, Samantha."
She owed him a hell of a lot more than that, because he'd saved her life. But that didn't mean she had to trust him.
"Ten minutes, then."
He nodded and then smiled when she motioned for him to go first. She fell into step behind him. Despite his disheveled, unwashed appearance, there was nothing of the streets in his walk. He had the stride of a soldier — purposeful, balanced, powerful.
A man ready to move, to fight, at a second's notice.
The cafe came into sight. The stranger chose a table under the awning, out of the rain. He sat down with his back to the street, letting her take the chair near the wall. Not that she felt any safer for it. She had an itchy feeling that this man could kill her faster than she could react.
Once they'd placed their orders, she leaned on the table and regarded the stranger steadily. "So what did you want to talk about? And how do you know so much about me?"
Her hirsute friend leaned back in the chair. He looked relaxed, almost asleep. It was an appearance that deceived. She could see the tension around his eyes, if nowhere else.
"We are two of a kind, Samantha. Two halves of the one whole."
"What is it with these riddles? Can't you speak plain English?"
He smiled again. "When you are ready for the answers you will see them. In your dreams and in your heart."
She licked her lips. This man knew about her dreams of Joshua. Maybe he was even responsible for them. "What are you doing to me?"
"I do nothing. I merely watch and wait to see what side you fall on. Though I think, perhaps, the answer is already clear."
"Not to me." She leaned back in her chair, smiling as the waitress placed her coffee on the table. "Why did you say Allars can't help me?"
"Allars was little more than a piece of meat the scientist's were using. He was one of eight. He was told nothing and knew nothing."
"His name is on my birth certificate. He must know something. A conception involves both male and female, you know."
"But not eight men and eight women. How do you explain that?"
"I can't." This man knew too much about her. And though he could read her thoughts, she sensed he wasn't doing that now. "How do you know about the certificate?"
"I sent it to you."
His eyes were as shuttered as his face, and yet she could almost taste the wariness in him. Its touch was so strong she might have named it fear in any other man.
But this man didn't fear. Didn't care.
And how the hell she knew that she couldn't honestly say. "Jack gave me that certificate."