Free The Adjacent by Christopher Priest Page B

you might be about to put on your clothes and leave me.’
    ‘No – you’re right. I’m not at work now. Ignore what I said about the damned cameras. I forget myself, sometimes. I don’t know when to switch off. I’m really sorry.’
    ‘I’ve been a freelance for long enough to know that the last thing to do is flout the law. If there’s a problem I’ll deal with it later.’
    ‘I know, I know, let’s forget it.’
    ‘Forget everything?’
    ‘No, I’ve switched off now. Let’s just do what we came in here to do.’
10
    SHE PRESSED HIM DOWN ON THE BED. HE WAS UNEASY AT FIRST, chilled by her mood swings, but they did it all again and this time their lovemaking took longer and was sweatier than before. The heating vent blew unwanted warmth on them as they slowly, pleasurably regained their breath. The physical act purged him of the irritation she had brought on, but now he was wary of her. He lay above her, his chest pressing down on her breasts, one leg trailing away towards the floor to try to find cool air, but he was exhausted, drained, sweltering, fulfilled, exhilarated by her. Flo seemed to be asleep – she was unmoving with her face buried against his shoulder, her breathing slow and steady, but after a few minutes she suddenly tensed up and tried to roll out from under him. He shifted to make a space for her, so she levered herself up and away from him. She left the bed, took a brief shower in the cubicle behind him, then dried with his towel and began putting on her clothes. Tarent watched her dressing, already feeling regrets that it was over, wishing she would spend the remainder of the night with him. The thin shaft of light was still the only source of illumination in the room. He watched as she pulled on her pants over her neat, exercise-toned buttocks, then lifted the ankle-length skirt, and retained it at her waist with a clip.
    ‘Shall we meet again tomorrow?’ he said.
    ‘Not possible. Unless you want to give Warne’s Farm a miss and travel with me to Hull.’
    ‘I’m under orders. You know that. Why on earth do you need to go to Hull?’
    Now that she had most of her clothes back on, she was assertive again. ‘It’s a DSG, devolved seat of government. I have meetings with the Joint Chiefs of Staff. I’ve several regional committees to get through, two advisory panels, a meeting with chief constables, applications from the town council, and the rest. Staffing and provisioning arrangements. Mostly routine, but time-consuming. I warned you – I don’t have a private life. But I can hide you in my hotel room, and see you after work, at night.’
    ‘I’m not sure –’
    ‘I’m having to deal with a never-ending series of problems.’
    ‘Not on your own.’
    ‘No – the whole department is involved, of course. But there’s a state of emergency, because of what happened in London. Everything is a crisis at the moment.’
    ‘What happened in London?’
    ‘You must have heard.’
    ‘I’ve been cut off from the news for several months.’
    ‘There was a terrorist attack on London. Just over four months ago. It was as devastating as a small nuclear weapon. It was contained in some way that we’re still trying to understand. But an area of west London was completely destroyed.’
    He stared at her, trying to form a reaction.
    ‘You really hadn’t heard about this, had you?’ she said.
    ‘That’s incredible. There must have been thousands of casualties. It’s incredible!’ He realized that in the shock of hearing what she had told him he was repeating himself. He suddenly remembered the scenes he had glimpsed from the car window as the officials drove him into London: the blackened, flattened landscape they did not want him to see, the way they had darkened the glass to restrict his view. ‘This really happened?’ he said, insensibly. ‘A nuclear attack, against London?’
    ‘It’s known as May 10, the date it happened. Not a nuke, in the way it’s usually meant. It