The Fifth Profession (43 page)

Maybe.

But maybe not. If Akira phoned the restaurant at the scheduled time and Savage and Rachel weren't there, he'd …

Phone again at six
P.M
. as they'd agreed. That was the point of a backup plan—to allow for contigencies.

But what if we can't get out of here by six? Savage thought. The next contact time was nine in the morning, and if
that
didn't work, if Savage and Rachel still couldn't get away from Hailey by then …

Akira would assume the worst. He might go to ground. The only chance for contact was the further backup plan of Savage's phoning Akira's home. But Eko didn't speak English. Her sole instructions were to answer
“moshi, moshi”
—hello—if Akira was safe, and
“hai”
—a rude tone of “yes”—if Akira was threatened and wanted Savage to run.

Christ, we didn't plan enough, Savage thought. We're professionals, but we're used to protecting others, not ourselves.
We
need protectors. As it is, trying to defend
ourselves,
we're too involved, we've got fools for clients, and we screwed up. We assumed that
Akira
would be the only one in danger. But now … !

Get control, Savage told himself. You're safe for the moment, and even if it's impossible to get to the restaurant by noon, six
P.M
. is a long way off.

Yes, that's what worries me, he thought. Anything can happen. If Hailey and his men are stubborn—and Savage assumed that they
would be
—we won't get out of here till dark.

And then?

We can't just walk out. We'll have to go over a wall. And in a city of
twelve million
Japanese with only
a few thousand
Americans living here, we'll attract as much attention, we'll be as conspicuous, as Godzilla.

Shit! Savage mustered the strength to subdue his increasing distress and turned yet again to Rachel. Leaves on her skirt. Dust on her cheeks. Dangling strands of auburn hair. Despite all those imperfections, she looked as beautiful … as spirited, angular, sharply featured, and glowing … as only Rachel could look.

I love you, Savage wished he could take the risk of telling her. Instead of violating silence, he leaned close and gently kissed the tip of her nose, tasting her dusty, sweat-salty skin. She closed her eyes, shuddered, reopened her lids, blinked nervously, and stroked his hair.

Remember, Savage told himself. Until this is over, she's your principal,
not your lover.
And Akira's waiting.
Maybe.
And Hailey's men are out there.
Certainly.

So what are you going to do?

Move!

Savage gripped Rachel's elbows, kissed her …

And turned her, pointing toward the thickets beyond them.

She mouthed silent words. It took him a moment before he realized. What she'd silently told him … a familiar refrain …

Was …

I'll follow you to hell.

They squirmed through the mulch through the forest.

3

The park had frequent low hills. On occasion, thickets gave way to stretches of waist-high ferns, which Savage and Rachel avoided, anxious not to crush the ferns and leave a path in case Hailey's men managed to follow them. Staying among the trees, Savage took his bearings from the passage of the sun, imitating its movement, heading westward. He worried that when they reached a path, a sentry would see them rushing across it, but this section of the park was evidently extremely remote, for they never did reach a path. Though the temperature felt like low sixties, comparable to October weather in New England, he and Rachel sweated from exertion. Their dusty clothes snagged on branches. Rachel's skirt tore. Worse, because she'd been forced to kick off her shoes to be able to outrun Hailey and his men from the shrine, her feet—despite the mulch—became scratched and bloody. Savage took off his shoes and gave her his socks. He'd have let her have the shoes as well, but they were much too big for her and would have added blisters to her scratches. As it was, without socks,
he
developed blisters. Sometimes, where the mulch was too deep, he carried her. Their progress slowed. By one
P.M
., they slumped to the ground, exhausted.

“This park's enormous,” Rachel said. “And the Japanese claim they've run out of space. Not that I'm complaining.” She massaged her feet. “Hailey would have caught us by now if it weren't for …” She cocked her head. “Do I hear traffic?”

Savage focused his attention. The dense trees around them buffered sound, but beyond, it did seem … A rush of energy made him stand. “I'll check.” He made his way through the mulch and trees, smiled at what he saw, and quickly came back. “There's a wall about fifty yards ahead. We've reached a street.”

“Thank God.” At once she looked troubled. “But
now
what? Hailey's men are probably still looking for us. They'll assume there's a chance we'll go over a wall.”

“Whoever Hailey is, his reinforcements have to be limited. They'd need to be widely spaced to watch every section of the wall around the park. But you're right—as soon as one of them saw us, he'd radio for the others to converge. With your feet hurt, we couldn't outrun them.” Savage thought about it. “Let's follow the wall.”

With no basis for choosing one direction instead of another, he arbitrarily decided on north. The wall was high enough to conceal them, low enough for them to climb over if they needed to. As they moved along it, weaving past bushes, Rachel limping, Savage imagined Akira's unease if he'd been able to call the restaurant at noon. Failing to make contact, what would Akira fear had gone wrong? How would he react? What would he do until the next scheduled call at six?

The wall angled east, then north again. After sixty yards, Savage heard Japanese voices, tensed, crouched, peered beneath low concealing branches, and saw an east-west path. Traffic was louder. To the left, a gap in the wall formed an exit from the park, cars and pedestrians swarming past beyond it.

Savage scanned the exhaust-hazed street and squirmed backward through shrubs until he and Rachel could talk without being overheard. Overhanging boughs cloaked them with shadows.

“I didn't see any Americans,” he said. “Not that it matters. They wouldn't be in the open. For all we know, they're directly behind the wall at each side of the exit. Or in a van across the street. Or …”

“In other words, nothing's changed. We
still
can't get out of here.”

Savage hesitated. “Yes.”

“Then what do we—?”

“Wait for dark.”

Rachel's eyes widened. “Then we'll miss Akira's next call at the restaurant.”

“If we try to leave now, the odds are against us. Hailey's men … We'd be stopped. We'd never reach the restaurant,” Savage said. “I don't know why Hailey wants us so bad, but I'd sooner depend on Akira's patience than on Hailey's
losing
patience.”

“I feel so … Is this the way you normally live?”

“Normally? If you can call it that.”

“I've been with you for less than two weeks, and already I feel like I've been through several wars. How do you
stand
it?”

“Right now, after having fallen in love with you”—Savage swallowed—“I'm beginning to wonder. What I wish, what makes me want to keep going, is …”

“Tell me.”

“It's foolish to think about. A beach near Cancun. I'd like to take off your swimsuit. I'd like to make love in the surf in the moonlight.”

“Don't stop. Describe the feel of the waves.”

“I can't. What I mean is, I don't dare.”

“Make love to me?”

“Don't dare distract myself,” Savage said. “My love for you could make me so careless it kills you.”

“At the moment … How long did you say we had to wait?”

“Till dark.”

“Then there's plenty of time. When I close my eyes, I can hear the surf.”

She reached for him.

And she was right. When he closed his eyes, as they tenderly, languidly embraced, Savage
could
hear the surf.

4

Rachel slept while Savage watched over her. The shadows thickened. Near sunset, she wakened, beautiful despite puffy aftersleep.

“Now it's your turn,” she said.

“No, I have to …”

“Sleep,” she said. “You're no good to me if you're exhausted.” Her blue eyes twinkled.

“But suppose Hailey's men …”

Rachel gently removed the Beretta from his hand, and Savage—recalling last night—was well aware that she could use it. At the same time, he was also aware of the trauma she repressed. Her hand shook on the pistol's grip. With determination, she held the gun firmly.

“You're sure?” he asked.

“How else will we get to Cancun?”

“If something makes you afraid …”

“I'll wake you. Provided there's time and the target isn't obvious.”

Savage squinted.

“You're thinking I'll lose control again … shoot … keep shooting … and maybe for no reason.”

“No,” Savage said. “I'm thinking you don't deserve to belong in my world.”

“To hell with your world. I want to belong with
you.
Put your head down,” she said.

He resisted.

“Do it,” she said. “On my lap. If you're tired, you'll make mistakes. Don't fight me. There. Yes, there. That's right. Oh, yes. That feels so good.” She shivered. “Right there.”

“It's after six. We've missed Akira's next call. He'll …”

“Be nervous, yes, but he'll call again at nine tomorrow.”

“Unless
he
has problems in the meantime. We should never have separated.”

“There wasn't an option,” Rachel said. “The way you talk about him … the bond between you … it almost makes me jealous.”

Savage chuckled. “Remember where my head is.”

“Just close your eyes and keep it there.”

“I doubt I'll sleep.”

“You might if you think about that beach near Cancun. Imagine the rhythm of the waves on the shore. Even if you
don't
sleep, relaxing will do you good. R and R. Is that what you call it? So you're ready for what we'll be facing.”

“As soon as it's dark …”

“I'll wake you,” Rachel said. “That's a promise. Believe me, I want to get out of here.”

5

Rachel's teeth chattered—less from fear than cold, Savage sensed. In the dark, as the temperature kept dropping, he draped his jacket around her shoulders and guided her farther along the wall. He'd decided that trying to leave through a path from the park was possibly more dangerous during the night than in daylight. Hailey's hidden men would have a safer chance of killing them and escaping under cover of the neon confusion of Tokyo's nightlife.

Reversing their earlier direction, Savage led Rachel southward, reached a western jog in the wall, and followed its angle. Unseen branches tugged at his shirt and threatened his eyes. If not for the halo of dense traffic opposite the wall, he couldn't have found his way. Horns blared. Engines roared.

“Enough,” Savage said. “Hailey's pissing me off. This spot's as good as any. If we go much farther, we'll circle the park. Screw it. Let's go.”

Savage raised his arms to grip the top of the wall, pulled himself up so his eyes showed just above the wall, and warily studied the street below him. Headlights surged past. A Japanese man and woman strolled beneath him along a sidewalk. Otherwise there were few pedestrians.

Savage dropped back onto the ground. “I didn't see anything to make me change my mind. Are you ready?”

“As I'll ever be.” She mustered resolve. “… Better give me a boost.”

Savage put his arms around her legs and lifted, feeling her skirt and thighs against his cheek. A moment later, she squirmed upward out of his grasp. As soon as she reached the crest, inching over, he hurriedly climbed after her. Together, they dangled from the opposite side. Heart pounding, Savage landed first and helped her down so her stockinged feet wouldn't be injured if her full weight struck the concrete.

Checking both ways along the sidewalk, Savage barked, “Quickly.
Cross the street.”

A man had appeared from shadows a hundred yards to his left. Headlights revealed the man's face. A Caucasian. He blurted something to a radio in his hand and raced toward Savage and Rachel, fumbling for an object beneath his suitcoat.

“Do it!” Savage said.
“Cross the street!”

“But … !”

The blazing cars formed a constantly moving barrier.

“We can't stay here!” To Savage's right, opposite the Caucasian running toward them,
another
Caucasian appeared, racing to flank them.

“We'll be … !”

“Now!” Savage said. He grabbed Rachel's hand, saw a slight break in traffic, and darted off the sidewalk.

Headlights streaked toward them. Brakes squealed. Savage kept running. He still gripped Rachel's hand, although she no longer needed urging.

In the next lane, another speeding car made Rachel curse. She surged in front of him.

Horns shrilled. The stench of exhaust flared Savage's nostrils. His stride lengthened.

They reached the street's divider. Wind from rushing cars flapped Rachel's skirt. Breathing hard, Savage glanced behind him and saw the two Caucasians rushing along the sidewalk. Assessing traffic, they searched for a break between cars so they could sprint across the street.

Savage waved at drivers in the opposite lanes, warning them that he and Rachel were about to race across. A Toyota slowed. Savage took the chance and bolted, Rachel charging next to him. They dodged another car and reached the far sidewalk.

Storefronts gleamed. Pedestrians gaped. An alley beckoned. As Savage ducked into it, he glanced again behind him, seeing the two Caucasians bolt from the sidewalk. At the same time, he sensed an object looming toward him. Pivoting, startled, he saw a van veer out of traffic. It aimed toward the alley.

He turned to run, but not before the van's windshield starred. Holes stitched it, glass imploding.
Bullet
holes.

The van hit the curb. With a jolt, it heaved above the sidewalk, walloped down, veered, kept surging, and smashed through a storefront to the left of the alley.