Sleeper's Run

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

About a two-mile jog later—mostly through my hotel's golf course—I arrive at my suite. That was a close call. I can't wait until tomorrow when I'll get my passport and leave the city once and for all. I take my gun out of the backpack, hiding it next to my body as I'm about to open the door to my room.

"Eric!" Trishna says, jumping to her feet as I enter the room with my gun ready.

"Are you OK? Were you followed?" I say as I signal to her to stay where she is as I check the room. I need to be sure this isn't a trap.

"I'm alone," she says. "Nobody followed me."

I had hired the hotel's limousine service to wait for Trishna at the Art Building's parking lot with instructions to take her to the hotel. I also gave him my suite number, the key, and a note telling her to remove the battery from her mobile.

The room is empty, so I put the gun away and kiss Trishna like I have never kissed anyone before in my life. There are so many things I want to say to her; I don't know where to begin. The fear, joy, anger and frustration are too intense to process. All we can do is embrace each other, wanting desperately to connect and be close. We let the moment sweep us away; the rest of the world can wait.

Sometime later, I wake up grabbing Trishna's wrist, which is in front of my face; my other hand is poised to strike. "Sorry," I say as I realize what I'm doing, and let her go.

"I didn't mean to startle you," she says, rubbing her wrist. "You looked so peaceful."

"Sleep is something of a luxury lately," I say, sitting up and checking the clock on the nightstand; it's almost four o'clock in the afternoon.

"You look like you've been through hell," Trishna says, looking at the bruises on my body and bandages on my arm and hand. Then she chuckles at my attempt at a disguise.

"Hey, don't knock it. It might be silly, but it's kept me alive so far."

Sitting there naked in bed with Trishna by my side at a nice hotel gives me the momentary illusion that everything was just a terrible nightmare. The pain in my body begs to differ.

"Eric, what's going on?" says Trishna, her bare body covered by the bed sheet.

Where to begin? I take a deep breath and start from the moment of my car accident in Miami. I know the story must sound farfetched to say the least: conspiracy theories, brainwashing, secret government projects. The more I explain, the more absurd I feel. I play her the recording of my hypnotherapy session and Tony's confession. I even show her the crushed microchip I extracted from my own hand. I need her to believe me. When I'm finished, I feel lighter, but completely drained. I watch Trishna for any sign that might betray her thoughts.

"Baby, I'm so sorry." She holds me in her arms.

The move is unexpected. It makes me uncomfortable at first, but her warmth and earnestness disarm me. Yet, I have to check my feelings; I'm afraid they'll make me vulnerable and cause me to lose my edge to survive. Trishna holds me for what seems an eternity and then wipes the tears away from her eyes.

"You need to go to the authorities with this," she says.

"Not yet."

"What do you mean? This is proof that you're innocent."

"Tony proves the conspiracy, but no one will believe my statement under hypnosis. I need to find this Dr. Libschitz and get him to talk. Then I can go to the authorities."

"What about Blake and his men?"

"How do you know about him?"

"He interviewed me back at the embassy in Caracas," she says. "He was trying to get a statement from me to indict you for the assassination, and now he's after both of us."