Shadow Knight's Mate (35 page)

The man's hand jerked, the shot went astray, and the gun fell. Jack caught it in mid-air and began scrambling up the fire escape. After one flight he stuck the gun in his waistband, because the former gunman was clearly unconscious, slumped over the rail. As Jack passed him on the fire escape he resisted the slight urge to push the man over. Instead he left him there dangling, and went on up to the roof. Arden's face had disappeared, but she was still up there when he jumped over the low balustrade onto the roof.

“Where did you come from?”

“Another fire escape on the other side,” she said shortly.

“But how? How did you know?”

Arden was scrambling up the steep roof and Jack followed, staring at her butt that was hiked into the air as she went up the roof on hands and feet.

“Saw the people assembled around this building and thought you must be the target inside. Especially since this is the only restaurant open for blocks around. Come on.”

In his armchair several blocks away, Bruno sat forward, leaning toward the screen. “A new player,” he said musingly. “Will she save Jack? Yet again?” He turned to a console close to his right hand, drew out a phone, but let it dangle in his hand as he continued to stare at the screen, as at the good part of a favorite movie.

At the peak of the roof Jack stopped and looked over the other side. The other side of the roof was just as steep, and there was no balustrade at the bottom to stop their descent, just the edge of the roof and a long drop. They needed a rope. He turned to Arden to ask if she'd come prepared for this. She, though, paused for just a moment, standing on the very tip of the roof in a way that made him nervous, then she moved a foot to the left, sat down, said, “I think it's about here,” and gave herself a gentle push. She began sliding down the steep roof, picking up speed. At the bottom she didn't even try to grab the edge, just threw up her hands as she went over, shooting out far too far to grab any fire escape attached to the wall.

“Arden!” Jack screamed. A sickening feeling spread from his stomach, as if he were the one falling. He felt as if he were.

He lurched toward the spot where she'd disappeared, almost fell over himself, barely recovered his balance. He wanted to get to her, wanted to save her as she had saved him so many times. But there was no good way down from this roof peak. The roof was too steep. That's what had caused Arden's downfall. Jack turned around so that he hung feet first toward that drop, stretched out as long as he could while holding onto the roof peak, then let go.
He started sliding down, hitting his face, his elbows, his knees, clutching for handholds. He slowed himself with his feet and his hands, at the cost of skin scraped raw, but he was still sliding too fast. He couldn't look down at the way he was going, didn't know how close he was to the edge. Trying to turn himself sideways, he almost started rolling, which would have been fatal. Jack grabbed out in every direction, frantic, feeling the world drop under him in imagination, and managed to get himself straightened out again, sliding down feet first.

He was crying.

But his fall had accelerated. A moment later his feet were sticking out into the air. Jack grabbed at the roof as hard as he could, breaking his fingernails, then ripping them out. He dropped completely over the edge, his whole body, but there was a rain gutter, thank God, and he managed to grab it. The sudden stop sprained his wrists, and he had banged his chin on the gutter, so he hung almost unconscious. But he was stopped! He dangled, dangerously but not dead. For a moment in his panic he had become completely self-absorbed, forgetting Arden. But as he hung from the gutter he remembered her and was afraid to look down, dreading the sight of her body splattered on the concrete. How many flights of fire escape had he climbed? He was at least four stories up. And far from safe yet.

Then he heard the strangest thing he had ever heard. A threat. A challenge. Both couched in laughter.

“Why don't you let go?”

Jack managed to turn and look down over his own shoulder. Arden stood there, hands on hips, thigh-deep in trash inside a Dumpster. This apparently was what she'd been aiming for when she'd shot off the roof. The inside surface of the trash container looked about eight feet by four feet. A very small target, especially from forty feet in the air. Jack continued to stare at the damned girl. Did she have no fear at all?

He did. Instead of accepting her challenge, he edged along the roof, holding tightly to the rain gutter, until he reached the fire escape on this side. He swung back and forth and dropped onto
it. Even that short drop almost made him throw up. He could never have done what Arden did. Forget the danger of missing. He couldn't let go and let himself fall that far even if he knew he had a sure landing. Jack went down the metal fire escape nursing his injuries and his pride. As he neared the bottom he remembered there were all kinds of people chasing him, which was almost as frightening as facing this girl.

Down in the alley, Arden was staring at him curiously, having climbed out of the Dumpster. Frowning, she said, “You went down on your front? Doesn't that hurt your face and your chest and— well, everything?”

“Not so much,” Jack said, refusing to rub any of his two or three dozen aching body parts. “Beats smelling like eau de Dumpster. Especially a Dumpster behind a restaurant.”

Arden shrugged. “Come on, there's a car over here with the keys in it.”

“There is? Then why didn't you come rescue me in it?”

“Didn't know where you were. Thought I should go up on the roof and look over the situation. Good thing for you, huh?”

Jack didn't answer. He walked behind her, watching the swing of her hips, and wanted to grab her, in spite of any garbage taint. She turned and grinned at him, knowing exactly what he was thinking. He hated that.

He grabbed her anyway.

Bruno watched with an odd mix of emotions on his face. “Enjoy yourself, Jack. ‘The condemned man ate a hearty meal.' Or whatever.”

Arden and Jack clung to each other in the alley so hard they almost burrowed into each other. Jack's hands hurt like hell, but he held her anyway. Her leg went around his. He didn't reprimand her for being too fast this time. There is no aphrodisiac like near-death. Jack's hands went inside her blouse, hers inside his shirt.

Then she pulled back and said, “Don't we need to get out of here?”

Jack's hands stopped moving, but he didn't answer. After a couple of seconds passed she raised an eyebrow.

“I'm thinking, I'm thinking…. All right, yes, damn it. But don't forget where we left off.”

They ran to a dark blue Lexus parked in the alley. Maybe the restaurant owner's car. Jack felt hollow from strangeness, from the rush of emotions. He dropped into the passenger's seat without any protest over who was driving. Then as the car took off he wondered where they were going.

“I have no idea what to do now. Head for city centre, I guess, try to find Rachel, see what she—”

Arden was shaking her head. “Do you know who that was chasing you, Jack?”

“No idea.”

She gave him a sidelong look. Master spy. Where had she acquired all this self-confidence?

“Those were German security forces. Undercover. Mixed, I think, with Interpol.”

He frowned. His little contretemps in Nice wouldn't have called out such a response. “Who did they think I was?”

“They think you're you, Jack. I can't tell you why, but while you've been playing your game I've been doing a little reconnoitering. You are like suspect number one here. If there's any kind of plot about the summit, they think you're behind it.”

“How can that be? I haven't been anywhere near—”

He stopped suddenly. The Jack doubles throughout Europe. Had they been doing something other than just luring him here?

They drove sedately through the night, Rachel trying not to draw attention to the two of them in their stolen car. She wasn't driving toward the heart of Salzburg, he noticed, but merely turning from street to street in this suburb in which they'd found themselves. Going in circles.

He glanced at her young, sharp profile, softened slightly by her cheeks. Arden looked beautiful to him now. He couldn't remember how she'd looked before, before he'd known her, so long ago. Two weeks.

She glanced at him and smiled, raising one eyebrow to ask for instructions.

“What do you think we should do?” Jack asked carefully.

“Find a place to go to ground for tonight,” she answered immediately. “Tomorrow just find a way to get out. Your presence here disrupts things. We have people in place here. Leave it to Professor Trimble. He's organized.”

“You've talked to Professor Trimble?”

“Just briefly, before you did. He's been here longer than we have and seems to be on top of things.”

Jack sat silent. Once again she seemed to read his thoughts. Arden said with a touch of sternness, “If you try to get to Rachel you'll just get yourself arrested. Even trying to call her would be dangerous. You wouldn't believe the high-tech interception equipment they've got all around the summit site. And she's right in the thick of it.”

Jack nodded. He turned to look at the old buildings passing slowly by. Silent, stolid, immovable by centuries. But now everything seemed fragile to him, as fragile as a child's drawing on construction paper. He stayed turned away from Arden, hoping the set of his shoulders wouldn't give him away, trying as hard as he could not to let her know what he was thinking.

“Your plan is good. Do you have some place in mind? We probably shouldn't be seen together, if I'm so hot. Maybe you should drop me off somewhere along here. I'll meet you wherever you say.”

He felt her scrutiny on his back, but stayed turned away as if studying the nighttime city. Jack could almost see Arden's suspicious stare. But when he turned back to her quickly she was just driving, watching the road carefully. “You're our best hope now,” Jack said, touching her cheek. He was thinking,
I love you. I want you out of this.
Thinking it as hard as he could.

Arden obviously read his thoughts, and the touch of his hand. “Let me stay with you,” she said softly.

Jack shook his head. “I'm done here, I'm no use to us. You don't want to get tainted with me. I'll fall back, see if I can do
anything from the outside. The President's not here yet.”

Arden's expression grew harder, focused on the job. “He has to come, Jack. Nothing can interfere with that. This is the only way to draw him out of his ridiculous isolationism.”

“I know. Maybe I can make sure nothing interferes with that. Anyway, I've got to get away before anyone spots you with me. What will you do?”

“Find Professor Trimble, I guess. Work with him.”

The interior of the car was its own little piece of nighttime, darker than the one outside. Jack and Arden cast no shadows in here. They were shadows themselves.
I may never see you again,
Jack thought. Thought it hard. It made his face very solemn, even as he tried to smile.

They kissed, for what seemed a long time. Any cop walking by would have indulged them. The kiss made Jack wish they could start all over again, from the beginning of the relationship, building it somewhere else, away from all this. He sensed the same feeling on her part.

“Somehow I think you're heading for the seat of power,” she whispered as they broke apart. “I'll find you.” Jack only nodded.

She let him out in the dark middle of a quiet block. There were no sounds of pursuit, no alarms going off. Still, Jack felt very nervous as soon as he emerged from the car, which gave at least the illusion of safety.

He looked into the car, let Arden see him nod and shrug, then he began walking. He heard the car move forward and turn at another street. He didn't turn to wave goodbye. In spite of what Arden had said, Jack wanted more than anything to get in touch with Rachel.

But Jack wasn't going to be seeing Rachel.

But he did manage to call her. “Rache, I'm going into a difficult situation. If I don't get out of it, there are several people I want you to kill.”

“Okay.”

“Starting with a couple of people in Nice.”

“I know about them. I'm on it. But does it have to be death?”

“It absolutely does. Has to be.”

“You're saying that impoverishment and international, albeit totally private, humiliation wouldn't work just as well?”

“Damn. You remain as ever the mistress of the hard bargain.”

“It's already begun.”

“This is a tough call. Can I get back to you?”

“Always punting the tough calls, eh, Jack?”

His voice changed in the middle of the sentence. “Rachel, only when I can leave it up to you.”

“Jack?”

“I know. Thanks.”

They hung up, and Jack felt very alone again. He walked, having no idea where he was going. After a few steps Jack began to hear his footsteps echoed. It was getting late. His stomach rumbled.

The street was beautiful, the buildings like a stage set. No, much better than a stage set. Medieval but very real. Ancient Europe. Mozart had walked these streets, maybe run his hand along this wall, glanced into this shop window.

There was no one across the street.

That's what Jack had been looking into the window for. He felt pursued, and wondered how wide the net was. At least he had no pursuers across the street, unless they were vampires.

At the next corner he turned, glancing back as he did so. There was no one behind him, either. Jack frowned but kept walking. He heard footsteps. Where were they? He even began to hear the murmur of voices, as if he were a human cell phone, connected to the ethernet.

He took out his own phone, punched in Arden's number. But as it began to ring, a man stepped into view at the end of the street, facing Jack. Jack froze for a moment, then walked toward him. Then faster. The man was Jack. One of his doppelgangers. The man just stood staring at him with a blank expression as Jack ran faster. Then the man turned, slowly, and disappeared back around the corner.