Pushing Brilliance Read online

  “You’re nervous about something.”

  The brothers had no secrets. Achilles was just eighteen months younger, but their boyhood rivalry had long ago given way to brotherly love. As they’d grown, their careers and personalities had evolved as differently as the flower from the leaf. But with common roots and seed, they generally shared one mind. “No worries. I’ll tell you later.”

  “And they say I’m the mysterious one,” Achilles replied.

  “What’s mysterious?” Katya asked, more interested in their discussion than Vondreesen’s speech.

  Colin flashed Achilles a warning with his eyes, possibly confirming a suspicion but figuring that was better than the alternative.

  “From my perspective,” Katya continued, “The only mystery tonight is why Achilles hasn’t been flirting with Sophie.”

  “Who’s Sophie?” Colin asked.

  “Our waitress,” Katya said. “She’s been eying Achilles all night.”

  “It’s the clothes,” Achilles said. “She thinks I’m a rebel.”

  “It’s not the James Dean wardrobe,” Katya said. “Trust me.” While she spoke, Katya beckoned for Sophie to come over.

  Katya was the love of Colin’s life. He had fallen for her at first sight, and a year later she still electrified him every time she walked into a room. She was beautiful and brilliant, bold and brave, compassionate and kind. He was utterly, completely, and blissfully bewitched. In other words, he loved her dearly.

  When the waitress arrived, Katya caught her eye. “Achilles here was just wondering where you’re studying.”

  Sophie’s face turned a cute combination of coy and confused. “Did she call you by your last name?”

  “She did. I’ve always gone by Achilles.”

  “What’s your first name?”

  “It’s a secret.”

  Sophie’s expression indicated that she wasn’t sure if Achilles was joking or not, but she moved on. “Okay. Now that we’ve kinda cleared that up, what makes you think I’m a student?”

  “That was actually Katya’s question.”

  “Oh,” Sophie said, sounding wounded.

  “I already know you study marine biology at UCSB,” Achilles said.

  Sophie and Katya both did double takes at that. Colin smiled.

  “How do you know that?” Sophie asked.

  “Is he right?” Katya asked.

  “He’s right,” Colin said. “I don’t know how he knows, but trust me, he knows.” Colin beckoned Sophie closer. It was his turn to whisper. “Achilles used to work for the CIA.” He met her widening eyes with a reassuring nod.

  A round of applause broke the moment. Vondreesen had completed his toast. As a lawyerly-looking guest launched into his kind remarks, Sophie grabbed the empty seat next to Achilles and asked, “How did you know that about me? Do you have some facial recognition phone app? Were you practicing tradecraft on me?”

  “Practicing tradecraft?” Achilles raised his eyebrows.

  “I read Ludlum and Flynn,” she replied, mock challenge in her voice.

  “Well, Sophie, since you read Ludlum and Flynn, you can appreciate that I was conducting a basic threat assessment.”

  Sophie brought her hands to her proud chest, fingers splayed. “Surely I don’t look threatening?”

  “You were obviously concealing something over there on the side table, among the menus. Given the way you went back to it whenever you had a spare minute, I figured it was a book rather than a bomb. Either some fantastic fiction like Ludlum or Flynn, or perhaps a textbook, but I’ve learned not to assume. So I checked it out.”

  Colin was pleased to see Sophie’s flirtatious reaction. He was happy to be out of the dating game, but still enjoyed it as a spectator sport. And his brother could use a good time.

  “I have a chemistry test Monday,” Sophie said. “That’s a chemistry textbook. How’d you know I’m a marine biology student?”

  Achilles held up both hands. They were big as a quarterback’s, and calloused from thousands of hours climbing rocks. Very manly. He held his fingers wide and then brought them together like the overlapping circles of a Venn diagram. “Graduate level chemistry classes and scuba diving have a pretty limited overlap.”

  “Scuba diving? What makes you think I’m a scuba diver?”

  “The tan lines on your face and wrists indicate you frequently wear a wetsuit with a hoodie.”

  “Maybe I surf, or dive as a hobby.” Sophie was obviously enjoying the mental joust. “This is Santa Barbara, after all.”

  “It’s scuba. Surfers don’t typically wear wetsuit hoodies. Hobby doesn’t fit either. You’re working your way through graduate school as a waitress, and you’re busy and diligent enough to risk sneaking a textbook to work on a Saturday night, so you don’t have the kind of free time those tan lines would imply if coming from a hobby.”

  Rather than respond, Sophie studied Achilles for a moment. “Are you sailing later tonight, or in the morning?”

  “Late morning. After brunch.”

  Colin looked Sophie’s way and cleared his throat. She checked her watch and stood. “Time for dessert.”

  Katya threw a you’re welcome look in Achilles’ direction, followed by a toothy grin. She had a big beautiful mouth that used to remind Colin of the actress Anne Hathaway. Now Anne’s smile reminded him of Katya. Apparently Katya was quite pleased with her good deed. Or maybe she wanted Achilles off the yacht for the night. Perhaps she sensed what was coming.

  Chapter 4

  A Cold Reception

  TIME LIES. It masquerades in symmetrical guise, using clocks and calendars as accomplices. They cloak it in perfect uniformity, regular as hatch marks on a ruler, stretching forward and backward without variance of size or scale or import. As anyone who has lived even a little knows, this is a grand deception.

  I was about to be served with the most pivotal of days, and the longest of my thirty-one years. The day that would forever split my life into before and after. But of course, I didn’t know. We never do. Time only lets us look in one direction. So I had no clue what was to follow that knock at my hotel room door.

  “Who is it, Achilles?” Sophie asked.

  Turning my head from the peephole, I called back, “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

  “I don’t think so,” she said, sitting up without covering up and sending my waking body in an altogether different direction from my brain. “Why? Who’s at the door, the police?” She was joking, but she’d nailed it.

  “Yeah.”

  That brought the sheet right up, but it didn’t elicit panic. The deduction became pretty basic at that point. They were here for me.

  I addressed the door. “Give me twenty seconds to get some clothes on, officers.”

  I pulled on my jeans and t-shirt, tied my shoes, and donned my leather jacket. Sixteen seconds. I gave Sophie a reassuring smile, and mouthed, “Sorry.” Then I cracked the door in twenty flat.

  “Kyle Achilles?”

  “That’s right.”

  “We need you to come with us, please.”

  I checked the authenticity of the officers’ footwear and then their proffered credentials. “Okay.”

  I turned back to Sophie. “Looks like I’ll have to give you a rain check on breakfast.”

  Her mouth said, “I understand. It was nice meeting you.” Her face said she was unsure what to make of this and didn’t necessarily want to find out.

  That made two of us.

  I knew she’d be okay a few seconds later when I heard her shout through the door, “So it’s Kyle.”

  From outside, the Santa Barbara Police Department looked more like a Spanish mansion than a government office, right down to the lush manicured garden. White stucco walls and red-tiled roofs, with lots of arches and gables and a shady colonnade. Clearly the locals were proud of their heritage and their wealth.

  Officer Williams swiped open the door to Interview Room One. Once he’d ushered me inside, he turned t
o leave. “Detective Frost will be with you shortly.”

  “Can I get some coffee? Big and black.”

  Williams replied, “Sure thing,” but his tone was ambiguous and I couldn’t see his face. As the lock clicked, leaving me in isolation, the implication of Officer Williams’ words struck me. I was expecting some kind of CIA inquiry or debriefing, having just resurfaced back in the US for the first time since resigning a year earlier. But Langley wouldn’t involve a police detective. They’d videoconference or send a local agent.

  My empty stomach twitched a warning.

  I looked at my watch: 10:49 a.m. My family would be polishing off their mimosas right about now at whatever local gem had earned the best Sunday brunch reviews. I had until 1:00 p.m. to get back to the Emerging Sea if we were going to stick to the schedule. Dad was big on schedules, as was Colin. Martha and Katya seemed considerably more relaxed, although I was still getting to know them.

  I started to pull out my phone to call my dad, but remembered that my cell’s battery had died without the usual overnight recharge. I was debating pounding on the door and asking for a phone when it opened and a mid-fifties bureaucrat walked in. He had more hair sprouting from his ears than above them, like a continuation of his mustache, and his paunch was bigger than a bag of bagels. To be working here looking like that, this guy had to be either very good or well-connected.

  “I’m detective Frost.” He took a seat across from me without offering either his hand or coffee. Well-connected it was.

  “You don’t appear to have brought coffee.”

  “What?”

  “Williams said he’d send some coffee.”

  “Maybe later.” Frost pulled a reporter’s notebook from his back pocket, flipped past several penned pages to a blank one, and readied a cheap plastic pen.

  Chapter 5

  Revelations

  MY STOMACH DROPPED with Detective Frost’s first question. This was definitely not a CIA debriefing. “What brings you to Santa Barbara?”

  I knew it would be pointless to press Frost for information before he was ready to give it. Interrogations didn’t work that way — and that’s exactly what this was beginning to feel like. About what, I hadn’t the faintest idea. “I’m just passing through. I’m in the midst of a two-week cruise from San Francisco to San Diego with my family.”

  “How many are sailing with you?”

  “Five, including me. My father, his wife, my brother, and his fiancée.” Hoping to speed things along, I added, “We’re celebrating my father’s sixtieth birthday and retirement. Yesterday was his actual birthday, so last night we had the formal party right here in your fine city.”

  “Private cruise?”

  “That’s right. We’re breaking in my father’s new yacht.” I would normally have said boat even though the Emerging Sea was clearly a yacht, because using my and yacht in the same sentence isn’t in my nature, but here at the SBPD they were clearly used to bowing to haves while dealing with have-nots. I was hungry and budding a caffeine-withdrawal headache, so I was ready for a little less dealing and a little more bowing.

  “When did you arrive?” Frost asked, flipping the page and continuing to write.

  “We docked around 4:00 yesterday afternoon, and plan to set sail two hours from now.” I tapped the face of my Timex.

  “And what did you do after docking?”

  “Once the ladies were ready, we went straight to Bouchon for the party.”

  “Bouchon,” he repeated back. “That’s very nice. How long did the ladies take to get ready?”

  “An hour or so.”

  “Meanwhile the guys were doing what?”

  “We put the yacht in order, and then got dressed ourselves.”

  “Did you go to the party, at Bouchon, dressed like that?”

  “I did.”

  My answer seemed to disappoint Frost. Truth was, I’d been living out of a backpack for the last year, wandering Europe from rock-face to rock-face, climbing hard and contemplating life. Thirty-one might be a bit old for that, but I had my reasons.

  The necessity of packing light had led to an appreciation for a simple wardrobe. By sticking with white t-shirts over cargo shorts or jeans, along with climber’s approach shoes and a black leather jacket when required by circumstance or weather, I freed my backpack and my mind for more important things. Of course, this had made me the only person at Dad’s retirement bash not in formal attire, but nobody, least of all my father, had seemed to mind. It was a California crowd, after all.

  “And how late were you there?” Frost asked.

  “Until about 1:00 this morning.”

  “And where did you go then?”

  “Right next door to the hotel where your colleagues found me.”

  “Why not back to the yacht?”

  “I met someone at the party, and opted for a little privacy.”

  “Do you do that kind of thing often?”

  “Not often enough.”

  “You’re being evasive.”

  You’re being rude. “I only recall one other such occasion. That was about four months ago in Greece. Coincidentally, her name was Sophie too.”

  Frost jotted something, then closed his notebook and leaned forward. “Tell me about your brother’s fiancée.”

  I didn’t lean in to match Frost’s posture, but rather stayed right where I was with my right leg crossed over my left knee. I was intrigued by his pivot but didn’t want to show it. “Katya’s Russian, like our mother. She’s a doctoral candidate in mathematics at Moscow State University. They just got engaged last night over dessert, in fact. Made the night a triple celebration.”

  Frost wet his lips. “She’s beautiful.”

  Katya had a classic Slavic face, as in the kind Czars paid Dutch Masters to paint. Perfectly proportioned features perched between high cheekbones. Thick honey-blonde hair framing a broad jaw, lithe neck, and lean shoulders. Beautiful was an understatement. Katya was spectacular. “She is. Smart too. I’m happy for Colin. They’re good together.”

  “What’s your relationship with her?”

  “My relationship? I don’t have one. Is this about Katya?”

  Frost stood up and then leaned forward, placing both his fists on the table. I wasn’t sure if he was going for hemorrhoid relief or the alpha-gorilla look. “If you don’t have a relationship with her, then why did she spend last night in your stateroom?”

  I kept my face passive, but inside was shocked, as much by Frost’s apparent knowledge as by the fact itself. Every other night she’d been in Colin’s bed. What had changed? “I wouldn’t know, since I wasn’t there. I was in a hotel. As we’ve already established.”

  “Doesn’t Katya’s behavior strike you as odd, spending her engagement night apart from her fiancé?”

  “I’ve never been engaged, so I can’t speak to that. But I have heard my brother snore after he’s been drinking, so I can appreciate her wanting to seek a quieter refuge — afterwards.”

  “When did you first meet Katya?”

  I wondered if it was always so frustrating on this side of the table, or if Frost just had a knack for irritation. “Your use of first implies a pattern. There is no pattern. Before leaving on the cruise last Sunday we’d only met one other time.”

  “Would you mind telling me where and when?”

  I was starting to mind a lot of things, but I didn’t want Frost to know it. “In Moscow. A little over a year ago. I was there on business. My brother was working there and dating Katya. He was crazy about her and brought her along when we hooked up for dinner.”

  “Are you telling me you had no contact with Katya between those meetings?”

  “That’s right.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “That’s not what she says. But we’ll come back to that later.”

  “Wait a minute. Katya’s here?”

  Frost gave me a smug smile. “In the next room, speaking to my colleague
.”

  I stood up. Put my own fists on the table. “It’s time you told me what this is all about, detective.”

  “Sit down.”

  “I’ll sit down when I’m ready.”

  “It’s for your own good.” Frost’s timbre changed as he spoke. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  Chapter 6

  Icebergs

  FOR THE FIRST HALF of the movie Titanic, everyone is cruising along enjoying life, certain that tomorrow holds as much promise as today. Then they hit the iceberg, and their world turns upside down. Frost’s voice sounded like ice ripping through the hull of my life. He sat down and I followed suit as a shiver ran up my spine.

  Frost cleared his throat before he spoke. “I’m sorry to tell you that your brother, father, and stepmother all passed away this morning. Carbon monoxide poisoning appears to have been the cause.”

  I stared at Frost’s mustached mouth with its course salt and pepper hair and crooked teeth.

  Tears started streaming.

  My jaw lost its grounding.

  I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t process the news. Just hours ago we’d all been having the time of our lives. My father had worked his tail off for forty years and finally received the big payoff. Now he and Martha were set to spend the next forty years living the dream. And Colin ... that was ... unfathomable. He was the conservative Achilles. The responsible bookish older brother. A single grade ahead in school but six steps ahead in life, with a prestigious MD, a great girl, and a boundless horizon. A black body bag didn’t fit in the frame.

  “Katya called 911 at 6:00 a.m. after finding your brother, and then your parents,” Frost continued. “A patrolman was there by 6:06, the paramedics by 6:08, and my partner and I by 6:45. The paramedics pronounced them dead on the scene. Are you familiar with carbon monoxide poisoning?”

  I nodded once, my mind stuck on Colin. My self-identity was always evolving, but brother had been a constant from day one. Though half a world apart and as different as water and wine, Colin and I had been riding the river of life as a two-man team. Now I was completely alone, and reeling.