The Heaven Trilogy (144 page)

“None.”

“Then we go for Abdullah Amir or whoever is sending these crazy messages. I'm going to recommend that all southern ports be closed until we get a better feel for the situation. We'll call it a drill or something. We've got to shake something loose.” He lost himself in thought for a moment. They all knew it was simply a matter of time before a terrorist finally found a way to get a nuclear bomb into the United States. The World Trade Center collapse would look like a warm-up exercise.

Ingersol stood. “I'll get on this. I hope you know what you're doing.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

SHANNON RICHTERSON ran through the jungle barefoot, under a black fog of confusion. Above the canopy, the sun shone in a blue sky, but in his mind light barely reached his thoughts.

Sherry was Tanya. Tanya was alive. He could hardly manage the notion. Tanya Vandervan alive. And filled with anger at him. Couldn't she see that he was doing what so few in the world had the stomach to do?

What would she have him do? Kneel beside Abdullah and pray that he lie down and kill himself. Shannon grunted at the thought.

She only knew the half of it. If she really knew what was happening here, she might kill Abdullah herself. Or kill Jamal.

Jamal had to die. If he did nothing else here in the jungle, he would put Jamal to death.

Shannon pulled up near the edge of Soledad, breathing heavy, hands on hips.

In reality it was
he
who made the difference in the real world. The world was filled with treachery and the only way to face such an evil was with treachery itself. It had been one of the first lessons he'd learned from the natives as a boy. Fight violence with violence.

But Tanya . . .

Tanya had come up with this nonsense about dying.

Shannon spit into the dirt and jogged on. Eight years had come down to this moment, and no person—no woman—would have a say now. Not even Tanya. He had held her and kissed her and at one time would gladly have given his life for her—but she'd changed. And she hated him.

Shannon's mind grew dark and he groaned above the pounding of his feet. He closed his eyes.

He would show her.

He pulled up at the thought. She wasn't Tanya any longer. Not really. She'd become Sherry.

He doubled back and ran for the town.

And now he would show Sherry how things worked in the real world. Why he was doing this. How to deal with a world gone sick. Maybe then she would understand.

He would return to the jungle and finish what he had started, and he would let Sherry see for herself.

GRAHAM KEYED the radio. “Roger, go ahead.”

“The mission has changed. Sweep the valley compound and eliminate any unfriendlies you encounter. Copy?”

Graham looked up at Parlier. Parlier nodded. “Ask him what he means by unfriendlies,” he said.

Graham depressed the transmit toggle. “Roger, sir. Request you clarify un-friendlies.”

Static sounded for a moment.

“If you don't know their name, then they're unfriendly. Understood? You take out anything that walks.”

Parlier nodded at Graham. “What about the agent?”

“Copy that. What about the agent?” Graham asked into the mike.

“Take him out.”

“Copy. Alpha out.”

Parlier was already walking toward the other men stationed on the cliff. He turned back to Graham. “Get Beta and Gamma on the horn and tell them to follow our lead. I want to be at the base of the cliffs by morning. There Beta spreads east and Gamma spreads west.”

He swung back to the cliff. “Pack up, boys. We're going down.”

TANYA HAD drifted for over three hours, lying on the hotel bed. Her thoughts spun lazy circles around the notion that she had really lost her mind this time. That this whole thing might well be an extended dream episode in which she had flown the coup and revisited South America only to find Shannon a mad killer instead of her innocent love. After eight years of nightmares a mind could imagine that, couldn't it? She'd read somewhere that if all the power of the brain were harnessed, it could rearrange molecules to allow a person's passage through walls. Well if it could walk through solid objects, surely it could conjure up this madness.

A knock on the door about launched her into orbit. She sat up and nearly slipped from the bed.

He walked in then. Shannon. Or Casius, or whoever he really was. The tall, rugged killer with green eyes and firm muscles. She wanted to shrivel into the corner.

He walked to the dresser, snatched a small backpack from it, and fastened it around his waist. “Okay, lady,” he said. “Pull yourself together. We're taking a walk.”

“A walk? To where?”

“A walk to hell. What does it matter? We both survived, fine. Now you're going to see how things work in this screwed-up world of ours. Get up.”

He walked over, grabbed her by the arm, and yanked her to her feet roughly, eyes flashing.

Tanya felt a stab of pain rip up her arm and she gasped. He relaxed his grip and pulled her toward the door. She stumbled after him.

“I've
seen
your world. Let go of me!”

“And now you're going to see why I do what I do. I owe you at least that much, don't you think?”

“You don't have to hurt me. Let me go!”

This time he did. She followed. She would play his absurd game for the moment. She wasn't sure why. But she had to find out what had caused the love of her life to be transformed into this . . . creature. Shannon led her from the hotel. She stopped at the street, but he continued walking. He shot her an angry glare and she followed.

They walked to the outskirts of Soledad. She expected him to turn into a side street and show her his “screwed-up world” at any moment. But he didn't. He walked past the last road and turned onto a thin path snaking into the jungle.

“Wait a minute,” she objected. “I'm not about to go back into the jungle with you. Are you nuts? You think you—”

He spun back, grabbed her by the arm, and propelled her before him.

She fought an urge to whirl around and slap him. “Okay!”

Then she lost comprehension of what his intentions might be. He passed her once they entered the forest and she followed, thinking she would turn back at any moment and return to the town.

But she didn't. For one thing they had switched paths several times and she quickly realized that she could hardly navigate her way back. For another thing, she was drawn by the bare-chested man ahead of her, leading her like a wild savage. Not drawn
to
him, of course, but
by
him, like a homing beacon faintly red in the distance.

That it was Shannon leading her into the jungle and not Casius made her think that she might follow him to hell if he asked her to. Deep in her heart, Shannon was still her lost love.

But she hardly considered the notion before replacing it with the notion that
he
deserved to be sent to hell.

Dear God, help me!

She was panting within the hour. Shannon didn't bother looking back to check on her. If anything he walked faster, more deliberately, intent on punishing her maybe. She determined then not to give him the satisfaction. She had kept up with him once—she could do it again. As long as he let her, of course.

Tanya walked behind him, watching his muscles roll over his bones with each footfall. To think she had once loved this man so passionately. Shannon. How had he grown so strong? Not that he wasn't strong before, but this . . . this man ripping through the jungle ahead of her was as powerful as they came in the human species.

And she hated him for it because those once tender fingers had been replaced by claws. Those emerald eyes she had once gazed into with a weak heart now slashed and cut with an unquenched fury.

And what would you expect from a boy traumatized by his parents' slaughtering?
Eight years of nightmares?

No. That would be you, Tanya.

Tanya gritted her teeth and rebuked the sentiment. He had become one of them. Walking the world seeking whom he might destroy. This demoniac now leading her into hell.

The thoughts whirled unchecked.

The moon rose behind them and highlighted his glistening back. Still he refused to look at her. He could smell her perhaps, like some ruthless animal who knew when it was being followed. And she could smell his sweat—musky and sweet in the humid night.

She stopped in the trail and spoke for the first time since entering the jungle.

“Where are you leading me? It's dark.”

He walked on, ignoring her.

“Excuse me!” Anger flashed up her spine. “Excuse me, it's dark, if you hadn't noticed.”

His voice drifted back amid the screaming of cicadas. “I suggest you stay close if you don't want me to leave you here.”

She mumbled angrily under her breath and ran to catch up. He had led her into danger without consideration for her safety and now he was threatening to leave her behind.

Tanya caught him and pounded on his shoulder. “Stop it!” she shrieked. “What are you trying to prove? This is crazy!”

He swung around, fists clenched. “You think so? You think
this
is crazy? Then listen to me, Tanya.
This
is nothing!” She could see that he was trembling. “This is two people walking along a path in the real world. I'll tell you what's crazy. Watching a bunch of men shoot holes into your mother and father while you stand by powerless.
That
is crazy. And that's the real world. But then you're not used to the real world, are you? You're too busy running from your nightmares, I suppose. Explaining away the death of Mommy and Daddy. Trying to make sense of it all? There's only one thing that makes sense now and it's got nothing to do with your God.”

He turned around and left her standing, her mouth agape.
Running from
my nightmares?
She followed quickly, fearing the dark alone.

And he had called her Tanya.

He's wounded, Tanya
.

He's an animal.

He's a wounded animal, then. But he needs my love.

They walked in silence for hours, stopping only periodically for rest and water. Even then they did not talk. Tanya let her mind slip into a numb rhythm that followed the steady cadence of her feet.

In the end it was only prayer that soothed her frazzled spirit.

Father . . . dear God, I'm lost down here. Forgive me. I'm lost and lonely and
confused. I hate this man and I hate that I hate him. And I don't even know if
that's possible! What are you doing? What is your purpose here?

She stepped without caution on the path behind Shannon now, trusting his leading.

I hate this man.

But you must love this man.

Never!

Then, you would be like him.

Yes, and I'm a fool either way.

A picture of Jesus spread on the cross hung in her mind.
Forgive them, Father,
for they know not what they do
. The image brought a knot to Tanya's throat.

Then her mind returned to the vision. What significance her life now played in this insanity was far beyond her. The thought of a bomb's mushroom cloud barely registered out here in the heavy forest. For all she knew the whole notion was absurd. Shannon certainly thought so.

Her mind returned to him.
God, help me.

With each step, she resigned herself to the knowledge that this was indeed a part of some symphony conducted by God himself. In some absurd way it did make sense. In the end she would see that. The realization gave her strength.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Saturday

THEY HAD come far in the eight hours—farther than Shannon would have guessed the woman would last. He stopped by the Caura, five miles down-river from the plantation, and stood in the morning sun with a clenched jaw. The river was only twenty feet wide here and it curled around this meadow. It would be the safest place to leave her. She would have greater visibility of any approaching animals, and if he failed to return, she could find her way to safety down the river. It would also give him a way to reach her quickly once he'd finished.

Tanya.

She hardly registered as Tanya any longer. She was “that woman.” It was what his mind called her now. And then on occasion the other part of his mind would call her “Tanya,” and his heart would break a little. The voices pushed him at a relentless pace.

Ahead, the mountain rose and then fell over the cliff to the plantation. A
Year
bird cawed long and sober above him, and Shannon lifted his gaze to the canopy. The black bird's foot-long beak rested open. A yellow eye studied him. Shannon lowered his head and looked at the trees cresting the rise ahead. Abdullah waited there. A killing waited there—a throat begging for the blade. He imagined the thick brown cords of Abdullah's neck, parting under the edge of his knife. The man's eyes were smiling.

Shannon's breathing thickened. The plan was well laid and ticking along like a clock. Friberg would be moving by now. A chill flashed up his spine. He wanted to be there, facing the man who'd killed his mother and father, feeling the pounding of his heart, tasting his blood.

“Can we rest?” The sound of the woman's voice jerked him back to the river. Yes, that woman. Tanya. He could hardly remember why he had brought her. To share this part of his life with her, of course. To bring her into a holy union with death. To hate her so that she could love him. It was something that made no sense to weak minds, but to others it made perfect sense.

In the black fog.

You've lost your sanity, Shannon
.

Have I? The world is insane.

He turned to her. She stood twenty feet off, haggard and dripping wet and looking near collapse. She gazed at him steadily. Her mind wasn't as weak as her body, he thought.

“You'll wait here,” he said. “If I don't return, take the river east to Soledad.”