Authors: Michelle Gagnon
Jake matched his pace, stepping back as he kept an eye on the blade, waiting for him to charge. If he did, Jake didn’t have many options. He was exhausted. The likelihood that he’d be able to disarm Stefan was slim. If he could find a stick, something to fend him off with, he might have a shot. If not, he’d have to seize the first opportunity to turn and bolt. The riverbanks were steep. Climbing them would consume precious moments during which his back would be exposed.
Stefan’s approach reminded him of a snake, head bobbing and weaving, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. One time, when they were kids, he and Mark had tried to shoot the rattle off a rattlesnake. Jake missed the shot, hitting the center of the reptile’s body instead. Trying to finish it off, Mark got too close and the animaled out at him. Their mother hadn’t spoken to them the entire drive to the hospital.
Stefan’s eyes suddenly darted right. Jake lunged in the opposite direction, but it was a trick. The knife caught him under the ribs. Jake gasped as it slid in, felt it penetrate his back on the other side. Stefan pulled him close, bloodshot eyes huge, breath hot as he murmured, “We all must sacrifice.”
Kelly picked her way along the embankment, careful not to get too close to the edge. She alternated between watching the ground in front of her for ruts and dips and scanning the canal. About a mile in, she stopped. Maybe Landa was right, and she was wasting her time. They might have caught Stefan already. She should head back, try to find Jake. Hopefully he hadn’t been hurt in the blast, and was already at Mark’s bedside.
Kelly turned around. The canal snaked along, trees clustered tightly on the banks. She slowly limped back. The physical toll of the past few days had caught up to her. Her whole body ached, her eyes smarted from fatigue. She felt like she’d just gone twelve rounds with a prizefighter, then run a marathon. She staggered a few steps, then sat. She needed to take a minute.
Kelly watched a dragonfly flit through a patch of reeds along the shoreline. He landed on one, sending it swaying before he darted off. Her head dropped to her chest, then she caught herself. She couldn’t let her body shut down, not yet. She had to get back.
Movement out the corner of her eye. Kelly clumsily got to her feet and drew her gun. Something large was drifting downriver. It looked like a pile of clothes. It took a second to realize that the figure lying prone in the water wasn’t Stefan.
Kelly went into autopilot. She jammed the H&K back into her waistband, skidded down the embankment and plunged headfirst into the water. Three strokes brought her up alongside Jake. She struggled with his weight, straining to flip him over. He felt like a sodden rag doll. It took all her remaining strength to turn him. She pressed her cheek to his, looking toward his chest. He wasn’t breathing. There was a jagged hole in his shirt, and blood seeped out at an alarming rate.
Kelly flung her arm around his neck and dragged him toward shore. The current pulled them downriver as she swam. She kicked as hard as she could, stroking awkwardly with her free arm.
Jake’s skin was waxy, with a bluish tinge. “Just a few more feet,” she said, breathing hard.
She turned back to see how far they were from shore and nearly let go. Stefan had surfaced less than a foot away and was grinning at her, water running in rivulets down his face.
Kelly reflexively reached for her gun. Before she could free it, an enormous hand clamped down on her head, driving it underwater. Kelly didn’t even have time to take a gulp of air.
She struggled against him, but the arm felt like iron. She fired off a few shots, but Stefan was like a ghost, none of them seemed to make contact. Her eyes popped, lungs straining. She had the overwhelming urge to breathe in, but knew that would kill her.
She only had one choice. If she was going to survive, she had to let go of Jake. Kelly hesitated, then released her arm and felt him drift away.
Rage sparked inside her. Kelly kied forward with all the force she could muster. Her heels made contact, and the pressure on her head abated slightly. She jerked down, an unexpected move, and the grip released entirely. Kelly broke the surface and gulped in air, gasping.
Stefan was a few feet away, face tight with pain. He growled as he splashed forward. Kelly caught sight of Jake’s body drifting downstream. Stefan lunged for her again, but this time she was ready. She squeezed off three rounds in quick succession, aiming for his chest. He grunted, face caving in. At least one had hit its mark.
Stefan gurgled something, then suddenly went still, face slack as he rolled onto his back.
For a second Kelly thought it was another of his tricks. She cautiously kicked out with her leg, tapping him as she kept the barrel aimed squarely at his chest. He didn’t flinch. The water surrounding him turned crimson. His body slowly sank beneath the surface.
Kelly spun. Jake was twenty feet away, the distance between them increasing as the current swept him downriver. In a moment he’d round the bend and vanish from sight entirely.
She plowed forward with strong strokes.
Just when she feared he’d drifted too far ahead, she caught a flash of white. With renewed vigor Kelly clawed her way through the water. It felt as if the current was deliberately keeping him just out of reach.
Her fingers suddenly closed on fabric. She grabbed a clump of it, using it to haul herself up to him.
Kelly wrapped her arm around Jake’s neck and towed him to shore. The banks were less steep here, and she was able to drag him out among some reeds. She bent down, pressing her ear to his chest. She couldn’t detect a heartbeat. Tried to take his pulse, but her hands were shaking too badly. She did a mouth sweep with two fingers, then started CPR.
Kelly blew air into his mouth, watching his chest rise and fall. She repeated the breath, then started compressions. Water and blood poured out of his wound with each pump of her hands. After the third cycle, water gushed from his mouth. Kelly caught her breath, waiting, but he remained still.
She kept going. Kelly tried not to calculate the minutes he had been unconscious and bleeding, or that it had taken her so long to reach him. Tried not to think about the fact that if it hadn’t been for her, he would never have been there. He should have been maintaining a vigil at his brother’s bedside, not trying to save her from a lunatic she insisted on pursuing.
Breath, breath.
Thirty compressions.
Breath, breath.
Every time Kelly bent down and locked her lips over his, her mind flashed to other kisses. This seemed like a mockery of those. These cold blue lips couldn’t possibly belong to Jake. She remembered the last time they’d really been together, in that shabby motel room.
Breath, breath.
Thirty compressions.
A breeze stirred, raising the hairs on her arms. Kelly kept going. Help was coming. By now Landa would have realized that he’d been wrong, they’d check the other canal. She didn’t let herself think about how far away that help might be, how long it might take. They would get here to get here.
Kelly tasted salt and realized she was crying, shoulders heaving with sobs as she pressed on his chest cavity, elbows locked out. She’d lost her brother, she’d lost her parents. She couldn’t lose Jake, too. She should have married him right away, as soon as he asked. She’d always held him at arm’s length, never let him get close. He rarely complained, though she saw the hurt in his eyes. But she ignored it, protecting herself. Somehow he’d managed to infiltrate, regardless.
“He’s dead.”
Kelly started and looked up. Stefan was bent double twenty feet away, hands clutching his right side, blood running through his fingers. He had an odd expression on his face. If Kelly didn’t know better, she’d swear it was remorse. Kelly ignored him, turning back to Jake. She tried to breathe into his mouth again, but couldn’t seem to draw enough air into her own lungs to give him.
She tried again, then gave up and sat back. Jake’s eyes were open, gazing blindly at the sky. Kelly followed them up. Tree branches reached out over the canal, tops dancing in the wind. The sun had finally broken through the polluted haze.
“Beautiful day,” Stefan commented, following her eyes.
Kelly stood and turned away from the river. The bank sloped up at a slight angle. Her legs ached from the effort of even that small climb, but the pain felt far away, as if it belonged to someone else.
“I’m shocked that you shot an unarmed man, Agent Jones.” Stefan sounded bemused as she approached. “Now I’ll have to subject myself to third-world medical care.”
Kelly drew the gun. Stefan’s eyes widened. Without breaking stride she fired into his chest. His body convulsed with each impact. She kept pulling the trigger, emptying the clip, firing even after it only produced clicks.
Stefan’s mouth opened and closed a few times as Kelly stood silent, watching. He dropped to his knees, then fell to one side. His body twitched and he moaned.
It took a long time for him to die.
When it was over, Kelly returned to Jake. She sat down beside him, gently drawing his head into her lap. She stroked his hair with one hand, the other cradling his cheek. She started by apologizing for everything she’d done wrong, all the things they’d never do together, the life they wouldn’t share.
It was nearly dusk when Rodriguez found her there. He wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and together they watched the last rays of sunlight slide down the tree trunks, turning the surface of the canal into spun gold.
MARCH 15
Forty-Eight
Syd glanced up at the knock on her door. Mark Riley was propped on a crutch, looking uncomfortable in a wool suit.
“I’m headhe said. “Sure you can hold down the fort?”
Syd shuffled the pile of papers in front of her. Since the implosion of Tyr, their business had kicked up exponentially. She’d taken on a dozen new clients, hired more employees. Staying busy had helped her deal. Now, though, things were settling down. “Flores is running point on the Somalia situation. I think we’re all set.”
“Great.”
“Anything else?” Syd said, looking up to find him still standing there.
“Just wanted to make sure you hadn’t changed your mind about coming.”
Syd avoided his eyes. “I already said goodbye. Besides, we’re swamped right now.”
“All right, then.” He paused. “Thing is, I know what it’s like not to get closure. Made that mistake once myself.”
“It’s just a memorial service,” Syd said sharply. Jake’s body had been cremated weeks earlier. It had taken some time to arrange, but they were going to bury some of his ashes in a grave beside his mother’s in Texas.
“I know, but it might help.”
“I’m fine,” she said. “Have a safe trip.”
He left, easing the door shut. Syd sank back in her chair and gazed out the window. Spring was arriving in Central Park, through the window she could see smatterings of green among the gray. Early blooms were battling the resurgence of low temperatures. She got up after a minute and went to her office door. Opening it, she stared down the hall.
The door to Jake’s office was closed. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to reassign it yet. By all rights it should go to Maltz, since he’d assumed a larger role in the company. Kelly had come by a few weeks earlier and removed a box of personal items. Now all that remained was standard office equipment. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to change the name on the door.
Syd hesitated a moment, then walked down the hall. She entered the office and shut the door behind her. Funny, she wasn’t generally a sentimental person. And it wasn’t as if Jake was ever really more than a friend anyway. Still, she could swear there was a trace of his scent in the air. She crossed the room and slowly sank into the chair behind his desk.
Syd rubbed an indentation in the oak with her thumb, the spot where he always rested his heels when he kicked back in his chair. She half smiled, remembering his grin, the laughter in his voice when he teased her.
After a moment she picked up the phone. “Call the engravers,” she said, voice throatier than usual. “Have them make up a name plate for Maltz.”
Kelly stood beside the freshly dug grave, gazing down without seeing it. Rodriguez had just left with his wife, after squeezing her elbow and offering the standard condolences. He was back on active duty after a brief suspension—somehow McLarty had managed to smooth things over with the Mexican Consulate. Apparently the U.S. government would provide a loan to assist with future excavations on the Templo Mayor site.
Stefan had been buried in a pauper’s cemetery somewhere outside Mexico City. Kelly hadn’t asked where, and Rodriguez hadn’t offered the information. At night when she stared up at the ceiling, unable to sleep, she could still feel that gun in her hands.
A few other mourners shuffled around, shaking hands, conversing in low voices. Kelly felt a presence at her side but didn’t look up.
“Should have been me,” Mark said after a moment.
“That’s what I keep thinking,” Kelly said. “He wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for me.”
“None of you would have been there if our mission hadn’t been compromised. You can’t blame yourself.”
Kelly looked at him. Mark had lost weight during his hospital stay. Gaunt hollows carved out his cheeks. His suit hung loosely around his shoulders. In some ways it made the resemblance to Jake stronger.
“I heard you went to work for Longhorn.”
“Yup. Should have been there all along, I was just too damn stubborn.” He shook his head. “My mom always used to say that if you spend your life racing the devil, eventually he’ll win. But she meant me, not Jake. Every time we got into trouble, it was my idea.” He nudged a chunk of loose sod with the heel of his crutch. “I still can’t believe he’s gone.”
Kelly couldn’t answer. She stood rigid, staring down at the dusty mound of soil.
“I’m scattering some of his ashes in this gully we used to hang out in when we were kids, if you want to come along,” he offered after a moment. “Chris and Susie are having people over, too.”
“I know, they invited me. I just… I can’t.”