Alexandra sighed.
Richard was like Wagyu beef – fed select grains, given beer or sake, and vibromassaged to make the meat marbled and tender – but still sent to the table in the end.
“Yes,” she replied. “Baer is the Grandmaster’s student, Baer has personal scores to settle with Richard, and luckily for Richard Baer didn’t find him interesting enough to kill – only to spook.”
“But he doesn’t know that Richard is in Rote Stier.”
Alexandra nodded.
“Yes, I believe so. Otherwise, he would have called him Richard Bateman, not Richard North.”
“Baer knows you.”
“Only as a writer, at most – as a part of Richard’s cover. I don’t think he knows we share a teacher, or put me and Poets together – he never took alchemy seriously.”
“You might be wrong.”
“According to Richard – and Rublev – Baer is a pragmatist. He never believed in alchemy because he couldn’t find an explanation for how it works – and never showed his involvement with the Poets publicly.”
“That means he’ll make a mistake someday – and we’ll cut him up into yakitori.”
“You’re just hungry,” Alexandra chuckled. “Let’s have dinner. Wanna meet our new doctor, the one Dario kidnapped from Singapore?”
Christopher shook his head.
“Doctors and spies – in the evening. I wanna hear about the serial killers from the new book you’re writing.”
They went on foot to the Kitanomaru Park, a part of Kokyo Gaien – the outer garden of the Imperial Palace – but never made it to the Museum of Modern Art. They just strolled, lingering for a long time without even entering Edo Castle and seeing the twin Nijubashi bridge and the white watchtower Fushimi-yagura.
Alexandra had already finished her coffee and was holding the paper cup, Christopher was chewing a to-go onigiri from a café near the concert hall, behind their bench birds squabbled in a Japanese dialect. The setting sun descended behind the skyscrapers lining the horizon and surrounding the oasis of parks in the heart of the capital.
“Did it really not bother you that he talked to me more than to you?”
Christopher licked his fingers and took the next portion as he waited for an answer.
“No. He wanted to separate work and … me,” Alexandra shrugged. “It helped him focus.”
“He didn’t separate me and work.”
“Well, you’re a former agent.”
“That’s just an excuse. It’s easier with me. With you … To him, it matters what you think of him.”
Alexandra shifted her gaze from the colorful red-yellow-green bushes to her interlocutor.
“Are you for real right now?” she winced. “He didn’t talk to me because he didn’t want me to see him be unable to do something?”
“Yup.”
“And he told you that himself?”
She hoped that it was just Christopher’s imagination … But he nodded, as if reluctantly.
“He flew to you as soon as he found a reason to … As soon as he realized what’s really important to him.”
“And what could that be?”
“You.”
“Now that’s just peachy,” Alexandra scoffed. “What you’re describing is some kind of love addiction and idealization. Richard has his own things to do, I have mine, he knows I’m always there even when we’re apart – and he definitely doesn’t need me to meddle in his work.”
“You’re meddling in his work now.”
“Because he let me.”
“And now you see that he’s not doing well.”
“Why isn’t he?”
Christopher pretended to be busy chewing his food, then reached for the poison-colored soda, Alexandra was looking at him expectantly.
“I doubt Richard would be happy about me and you discussing our relationship behind his back,” she added. “He didn’t ask you to talk about it.”
Christopher smiled, the bottle hissed as he turned the cap.
“He won’t tell you that himself,” he said finally.
“He will if he needs to. Weird conversation … Imagine William telling Richard about me – things I can’t bring myself to say directly.”
She winced ironically, Christopher grinned.
“Imagining. ‘Richard, Richard, stop thinking about her exes, she’s not thinking about yours,’” he portrayed a soft, discreet tone. “‘Richard, Richard, stop querying Christopher about her – she’s not asking him about you.’”
Alexandra laughed, placing the paper cup on the bench beside her.
“Resembles. No, even if you’re not exaggerating, he has nothing to worry about.”
“You never told him that you love him.”
“Of course I did!” she objected. “Of course I— No, Christopher, you’re definitely pulling my leg,” she kicked his shoe, he laughed, nearly spilling the contents of the bottle he held to his mouth onto himself. “He knows that I love him – he doesn’t need all this sentimental rubbish.”
“Rubbish, you say …”
“What do you, yourself, think?”
“Me, myself?”
“Does Richard need this sentimental rubbish?”
“He said it, not me!”
“Liar!”
“No! There – you made the decision for him, about what he needs and what he doesn’t.”
“Don’t twist my words,” Alexandra protested. “In any case, we’ll discuss it without you.”
“He’ll tell me everything later anyway.”
“Look elsewhere for melodrama plots!”
“Just take note of what I said,” Christopher leaned back on the bench and took a sip. “He’s not bulletproof.”
Alexandra has never considered Richard bulletproof – even when he expertly lied and pretended.
“Okay,” she agreed.
Christopher pursed his lips.
“I envy you two sometimes.”
“What, specifically?”
“Infatuation, love, passion, romance,” he drawled. “Heroism – not for the sake of work …”
“Leg-pulling again.”
“I mean it. You don’t appreciate a bloody bit about what you have. You landed such a man for yourself, and it’s like you don’t even notice it.”
Alexandra gasped.
“So that’s how it is!”
“It is indeed!”
At first, she wanted to say that his world had long become hers – and vice versa; that for Richard, she would tear anyone to shreds – and, because of that, would move Heaven and Earth no worse than Circus agents. At first, she wanted to ask: isn’t that the measure of love and engagement … But then she understood that Richard is perfectly capable of handling everything himself –