The silence that followed that statement was larger than the room itself.
Finally, Keith found his voice. His daughter was here?
"That is not possible." Keith was so flabbergasted his fake American accent faltered. "You are mistaken." He stopped himself from swearing and regarded Fletcher.
The boy was back to looking at the blood seeping from the cut in his detainee's arm. His eyes were drinking in the sight like a thirsty traveler. Fletcher might one day be more than he could handle, but for now, Keith was happy Fletcher could embrace the shadier side of his business.
"Should I tell her to go? I didn't know you had a kid." Finally, Fletcher lifted his eyes to Keith's face. Across his features was the clear question of what to do. Keith reminded himself that Fletcher was young. For now, if he could control his temper, then maybe he wouldn't shoot him.
Keith smoothed his graying beard and flattened out his unruly hair. He didn't know why he bothered to adjust his looks like a teenage boy insecure about his appearance. He gave up trying to tame the curly locks. This young woman probably wasn't his daughter anyway. He hadn't seen her in over a decade, and he doubted she could track him. A nagging thought clung to his brain. What if this kid was her? What would he do then? He was much too old for surprises.
"Send her to the adjoining office. Then leave us. And remember, your name is Fletcher Davis. You are an underground builder. Try and be… what's the word? Professional?"
"My name is Fletcher Davis. I'm a builder," Fletcher repeated. "I can do professional." His hand went up to the design he'd shaved into the side of his head. His fingers ran over his scalp like he had thick hair. Keith tried to take the kid seriously, but when dealing with his nonsense, it was close to impossible. Fletcher would never be able to run the business's legitimate side, but he might one day become an excellent assassin. That's why he kept him around, at least for now.
As his would-be protégé vanished out the door, Keith took a moment to remember his first love, Marie. He'd only stayed married to her for a short time, but because of her, he'd moved to the United States right after the meteor hit. His life would probably be different if they'd never met. That's what he called the luck of the draw.
Keith closed his eyes and considered their ridiculous whirlwind romance. Marie was a silly, optimistic woman. She never believed the planet would turn so cold so fast. During all of that was when his baby Klaudia was born.
"Do you think it is her?" Keith looked at the man bleeding in the chair. The prisoner flinched when he heard Keith's voice. He shook his head as if answering.
Keith recalled the child vaguely. It was because of his little girl that he got roped into going to the United States. Marie wanted them to create an underground home for the kid. Everyone was constructing underground homes like some kind of fad. So many men headed to the heart of the C.T.O.N.A. thinking they could survive the cold. Building underground homes back then wasn't as easy as now. When the construction started, most of the equipment was still above ground. They were all fools, Keith included.
"Keith?" Fletcher interrupted his thoughts when he ducked his head back in the door.
"What now?"
"She won't go to the offices. She says she wants to see you now. She used your real name." Fletcher looked like he was confessing a grave sin.
Keith turned his head toward the metal door that connected to his outer office. He tipped his head to the side as he considered whether this girl was really his child. Keith could interrogate her. Usually, that was how he obtained information. Well, he could torture her, but he wasn't going to. His eyes went to the forgotten assassin in the chair. He might need his fillet knife. He looked around for the sharp weapon while trying to decide how best to handle his current situation.
"How old is she?"
"I don't know." Fletcher paused. "Younger than me, I guess."
If Keith did the math right, his child should be about seventeen. Marie had left him for some banker who had a spoiled little boy, Tad or Tom, he couldn't remember. Keith did recall that was about the time when Marie changed Klaudia to Karmen-Marie. His ex-wife had perverted her name so Klaudia would never be tainted by the kind of life he'd chosen to lead. Marie always believed Keith didn't have what it took to raise a baby girl. He agreed.
"Did she say her name was Karmen?"
"She told me to tell you her name was Klaudia." Fletcher was distracted again by the blood. Keith paid him little attention. Instead, he chuckled at his ex-wife. Marie thought changing his little girl's name would hide her from him.
"Is she a threat?" Fletcher asked suddenly like the thought just entered his head. "I could kill her."
Keith guffawed, but it was a dark sound. "I don't find a lost little girl a threat. If she was going to kill me, I doubt she'd walk in the front door and introduce herself."
Fletcher nodded.
"She said her parents died of radon poisoning. Maybe she's just confused, as you said, lost. I'll kick her out."
Keith had heard that Marie's banker took the first opportunity for a subterranean house. The fool led them both to their graves. Bankers knew nothing about radon poisoning underground.
As for his little girl, last he'd been informed she was living with her uncle. He thought she was safe with Marie's brother.
"Wait. Did she say how she found me? How she knew my name?" Keith fired the questions at Fletcher before he turned to exit. In the kind of work he did now, it was good never to have anyone know his name. Keith had changed his name so often that it was unlikely for her to have been able to track him. If this were his daughter, then he would have to find out how she got here. Keith looked at a bloody footprint. Maybe he didn't really care. Kill her or not kill her —that was the only important question.
"She only said this area of the underground building was underdeveloped. The ice on the surface of the planet made it hard to get here. She said she isn't leaving until she sees you."
Keith nodded. In this area, the ice was also worsening, and housing was scarce. The wind generators on the surface weren't even built yet. In this region, they still used oil hauled from Canada, and big equipment was hard to operate.
"Tell her to wait in my office. I'll handle this myself." Keith gave a dismissive shake of his head. Fletcher gave him a curt nod before he hurried back out the door. In his haste to do as he was told, he left the door slightly ajar.
If she'd honestly found him here by herself, Keith would be impressed. She would be his kid to have that kind of ingenuity, tenacity, and grit. He appreciated grit as much as luck.
Keith hadn't even taken a single step to close the door when Fletcher's head popped back into his line of sight.
"Sir, she won't go to the office. She won't listen to me, and fuck… she's here." Fletcher's head disappeared for a second and then reappeared. She must be directly behind him. Keith thought for a moment.
"At least I know she is smart. I would not listen to you either." Keith reached for the door.
If it were his girl, this would be a good test. If it weren't his kid, then he would kill her. No loss. Afterward, he and Fletcher were going to talk.
"Fine, let her in." His hand gripped the doorknob, and he opened the door all the way. Its hinges protested like the barrier wanted to stop him. Keith looked at the blood splatter on his pants and shirt. Let's see how much grit she had.
Before Fletcher could step aside, the boy stumbled and glared behind him. The young woman who had just stomped down the hall used both hands to push his second-in-command to the right. A pretty amazing feat as Fletcher outweighed her by fifty pounds.
The expression on her face was a mixture of challenge and anger, and she had his dark brown eyes. There was no doubt in his mind. This was his child. She was a blend of familiar attributes of his ex-wife and himself, yet a stranger.
Her eyes popped to the bleeding man in the chair, and she tossed her long dark ponytail over her shoulder. While staring at the blood on his clothes, she didn't say anything. Keith crossed his arms and absorbed the fact that he stared at his very grown-up little girl.
"I guess you go by Karmen-Marie now." He frowned. She appeared to have grit and determination. "This looks like my luck of the draw." He spoke more to himself, but he was sure she caught his words. She curled her hands into fists. Maybe she thought he was going to kick her out or kill her. He wasn't sure either way. He had no idea why she was here. In his line of work, when people showed up surrounded by mystery, it was never a good thing.
Kicking her out was the best option. Even if she died in the snow, Keith didn't care. He didn't know how to raise a teenage girl, even one who wasn't squeamish around blood. He could kill her, but that didn't sit well with him. What happened to her didn't matter, as long as she was gone.
"Fletcher, get rid of her." Keith inclined his head at the door.
Her eyes flashed. The girl's reaction told him she didn't like that command. Keith opened his mouth to clarify that when he said, "get rid of," he didn't mean to have her killed.
Before he could explain to Fletcher, she took a belligerent step in his direction. Her glittering brown eyes stopped him from speaking. Her eyes reminded him of his when he was mad. She tipped her chin up, and her back stiffened ramrod straight. She was here, and she was staying unless he killed her. He wasn't going to. Keith could read in her face that she knew she was safe too.
"I'm staying. Just try to get rid of me. You know what people say," she said defiantly. "What goes around, comes around."