Blaze of Glory (28 page)

He
certainly
understood
the
need
for
solitude
sometimes.
Still,
with
that
Rurik
Zazlov
dude
on
the
loose, Bobby
didn’t
feel
he
could
let
down
his
guard
for
even
a
second.
He
sidled
through
the
crowd,
still
enjoying the
hell
out
of
that
unexpected
lip
lock.

And
in
the
middle
of
those
whoops
and
hollers
and
a
kiss
that
seemed
never
ending,
a
piercing
whistle sounded.
Gracie?
Bobby
pushed
through
the
crowd
to
follow
the
sound…

Only
to
find
Rurik
Zazlov
standing
at
the
edge
of
their
camp,
his
coat
flapping
open
to
reveal
explosives strapped
to
his
chest.
With
one
hand,
his
thumb
depressed
a
plunger
attached
to
wires
leading
to
a
suicide vest.

However,
it
was
the
other
hand
that
worried
Bobby
more,
the
hand
that
held
a
briefcase
full
of
God
only knew
what.

But
Bobby
had
a
damn
certain,
deadly
notion.

STANDING
INthe
agitated
crowd,
Jiang
looked
into
the
eyes
of
her
lover
and
could
see
that
he
was
already dead
inside.

How
could
she
have
so
deluded
herself
that
he
only
planned
to
blow
up
some
factory
or
military
munitions tent
in
the
middle
of
the
night?
She
had
told
herself
what
she
wanted
to
believe.

That
he
was
honorable.

That
they
would
have
a
future.

That
finally
she
would
have
a
safe
haven.

Instead
she
saw
the
blankness
in
his
dark
eyes
that
she
could
have
once
sworn
held
love
for
her
as
he cradled
her
body
to
his.
She
knew
he
was
talking,
shouting
even,
at
the
crowd
to
hold
their
positions.
To shut
up.
A
ramble
of
other
orders
that
bounced
off
her
stunned
psyche.

Had
he
only
used
her
for
sex?
Certainly
she
had
given
it
to
him
any
way
he
wanted
it,
anytime
they
could steal
away.

No.

She
could
not
believe
it
was
all
a
sham.
She
had
felt
his
emotion
when
he
plunged
inside
her.
Heard
the yearning
when
he
discussed
their
plans
for
the
future
with
children.
Although
now
she
understood
the yearning
came
from
his
belief
they
would
never
realize
those
dreams.

The
tension
around
her
built
even
as
her
heart
crumbled
to
her
feet.
She
could
feel
their
need
to
act.
Her ability
to
sense
emotions,
honed
through
her
meditation,
told
her
these
people
would
do
their
best
to
murder Rurik
before
he
could
kill
any
of
them.
As
much
as
she
believed
in
hope
to
the
end,
she
could
see
no
way out
of
this.

Where
were
the
Army
soldiers?
Had
Rurik
in
his
zealous
rage
noticed
their
absence?

For
the
first
time
since
she’d
seen
Rurik
and
given
him
her
heart,
her
body,
her
soul,
she
realized
he
was wrong.
Killing
all
of
these
people—military
and
civilians—in
such
a
way
that
defied
humanity
made
him
no different
from
the
people
who
had
massacred
her
family
simply
because
of
her
father’s
outspoken
ways.

A
part
of
her
raged
at
Rurik
for
what
he
was
doing.
She
wanted
to
hate
him
and
a
part
of
her
did.
But
she also
didn’t
hand
over
her
heart
lightly.
She
couldn’t
change
where
she’d
poured
her
love,
even
as
she
knew she
had
to
do
everything
in
her
power
to
stop
him
from
following
through
with
his
plan,
a
murderous
plan.

Rurik
thought
she
was
weak
and
needed
protection.
He
was
wrong.
She
understood
full
well
what
had
to happen
in
these
next
few
minutes.
Her
body
and
heart
might
be
broken,
but
not
her
soul.
She
would
try
her best
to
save
these
people
around
her.

And
as
much
as
she
grieved
over
ending
her
life,
at
least
she
knew
she
and
Rurik
could
realize
their
dreams and
love
in
the
afterlife.

GRACEMARIE
CROUCHEDfrom
her
hiding
spot
in
the
bushes
beside
Bobby
and
whispered
in
a
voice she
was
surprised
as
hell
didn’t
shake
with
fear,
“Bobby,
don’t
look
down.
I’m
here
and
I
can
help.” Thank
God
Bobby
didn’t
so
much
as
flinch
when
she
spoke,
his
nerves
of
steel
apparently
in
full
working order.
She
envied
him
that.
This
was
scary
stuff
going
down
with
Rurik
only
about
fifty
yards
away
with death
strapped
to
his
chest.

She
continued,
“I’m
in
radio
contact
with
the
Delta
team.
Thank
God
they
were
already
out
running
an exercise.
They’ve
surrounded
the
camp
and
captured
or
killed
Zazlov’s
band
of
merry
men.
Hopefully
he doesn’t
know
this
since
one
of
the
captured
men
seems
willing
to
keep
reassuring
Zazlov
over
their
radio
in exchange
for
not
being
turned
over
to
local
authorities.”

How
damned
ironic
he
would
rather
defect
than
deal
with
his
own
country’s
interrogation
techniques.

Gracie
tapped
Bobby’s
boot,
praying
with
everything
inside
her
that
somehow
he
could
survive
this
hell.

She
would
give
him
any
edge
she
could.
“Let
me
know
what
you
need.” Once
she’d
seen
Rurik
step
out
with
his
suicide
vest—five
minutes
ago,
although
it
felt
like
hours—she’d known
immediately
what
was
about
to
happen.
Death.
She
had
the
skills
at
least
to
try
and
talk
down
a person
in
order
to
gain
time,
positioning.

But
she
doubted
the
maniac
would
listen
to
or
respect
the
opinion
of
a
woman.

Bobby
was
standing
the
closest
to
Zazlov—and
the
closest
to
her.
Unpredictable
“Postal”
Bobby,
who’d gone
rogue
nine
months
ago
without
bothering
to
speak
to
anyone,
much
less
her.

God,
she
needed
his
fearlessness
now,
along
with
some
logic
she
hoped
to
offer.

But
to
make
matters
worse,
they
probably
only
had
about
five
or
six
conversational
exchanges
between
her and
Bobby
before
Zazlov
would
make
his
way
over
to
the
fuel
tanks
in
the
wings
of
the
CV22
or
C17.
If the
explosives
on
his
chest
went
off
and
ignited
those
parked
ariplanes,
this
whole
camp
and
everyone
here would
go
up
in
uncontrollable
flames.

No
question,
Zazlov
likely
had
planned
that
very
scenario.

They
couldn’t
risk
a
sharpshooter
because
there
were
still
too
many
people
close
enough
to
catch
the shrapnel
when
Zazlov
released
the
thumb
plunger.

Bobby
shuffled
his
foot
in
the
dust,
nudging
dirt
her
way.
“Hey,
Gracie,”
he
said,
doing
a
fairly
decent
job
at ventriloquism,
“any
shrinktype
suggestions
on
how
to
handle
this
guy
would
be
really
appreciated.” He
actually
wanted
her
advice?
Praise
God
and
a
great
big
sigh
of
relief
for
Bobby’s
crew,
who
were suddenly
having
coughing
fits,
slapping
bugs
and
a
thousand
other
minor
sound
effects
to
cover
her discussion
with
Bobby.
“First
thing
you
need
to
do
is
keep
him
busy
talking.” Bobby’s
shoulders
went
back,
his
face
trained
right
on
Zazlov.
Not
one
part
of
Bobby’s
body
twitched
or moved
and
he
held
eye
contact
with
the
suicide
bomber.
“What
is
it
you’re
trying
to
accomplish
here, Zazlov?
What’s
your
cause?”

The
man
with
dead
eyes
and
hands
full
of
destruction
ready
to
go
off
threw
his
arms
wide.
“We
want
to
save this
country
from
Western
influences
and
immorality.”

Come
on,
Bobby.
Stay
focused.
Keep
him
talking.She
couldn’t
help
but
be
complimented
he
wanted
her advice.
They’d
come
a
long
way
emotionally
in
nine
months,
both
of
them.
Not
to
mention
she’d
finally realized
crazy
Postal
wasn’t
nearly
as
off
balance
as
she’d
first
thought.
She’d
been
evaluating
him
from
a position
of
personal
fear
rather
than
detached
professionalism.

Not
surprising,
since
Bobby
touched
places
so
deep
in
her
heart.

Bobby
cocked
his
head.
“Who
is
thiswe
you’re
talking
about?
Does
the
group
have
a
name
or
home
base?”

“People’s
Revolutionary
Council,”
Zazlov
said
with
a
proud
tilt
of
his
chin
as
if
they
all
didn’t
know
it
was just
another
offshoot
of
the
terrorist
spider
network.
“You
egotistical
Americans
spread
your
immoral
culture to
the
world.
Defiling
women
and
poisoning
the
minds
of
the
young.
Drugs,
movies,
television,
music,
and we
will
not
rest
until
you
are
all
dead.”

He
continued
to
ramble
about
his
cause
and
his
council’s
plans
to
rule
the
world
or
fight
to
the
death
of every
last
one
of
their
followers.
His
voice
gained
speed
and
volume,
setting
the
whole
camp
on
edge
until finally
Zazlov
tossed
the
briefcase
toward
where
Matt
and
Felicia
stood
close
together.
They
would
have
to move
closer
to
pick
it
up.
A
risk
worth
taking?
They
both
waited
with
defensive
eyes.

“Here,
Professor.
Really.
Have
fun
with
this
dirty
nuke
my
people
have
built.
I’ll
even
give
you
the
code
to unlock
the
case.”
Zazlov
spouted
off
a
series
of
numbers.
“Of
course,
you’ll
have
to
wonder
if
I’ve
set
it
to blow
up
when
you
lift
the
lid.”

Matt
extended
a
hand,
holding
Felicia
back
while
he
went
to
retrieve
the
briefcase.
Grace
Marie
held
her breath,
her
heart
screaming,
no,
no,
and
hell
no,
her
father
couldn’t
be
about
to…
He
picked
up
the
case
in cradling
hands
as
gentle
as
the
ones
that
had
held
her
as
a
child.

Nothing
happened.

Her
father
strode
back
to
Felicia
and
looked
to
her
for
her
input
as
well.
She
studied
the
hinges
and
lock.

Rurik
laughed
low.
“Really,
you
can
open
it.
In
fact
I
want
you
to
see
how
Jiang,
our
people
and
I
were
able to
build
this
based
on
knowledgeyou
gave
us.
You
made
this
happen.
How
does
that
feel
Dr.
Lanier?” Matt’s
hands
clenched
in
fists
as
he
barked,
“Ah,
to
hell
with
it.
We’re
likely
screwed
no
matter
what
we
do so
I’m
going
with
my
gut.”

He
spun
the
lock
numbers
and
flipped
opened
the
briefcase
lid.
Again,
nothing.

This
Zazlov
bastard
should
have
known
better
than
to
mess
with
her
genius
father.

Grace
Marie
could
only
see
so
much
through
the
sculpted
branches
of
the
bonsai,
but
when
she
heard
her father
mumble,
“Fuck,”
she
guessed
that
meant
they
were
all
very
close
to
glowing
in
the
dark—if
they didn’t
vaporize.

And
where
was
this
dark
humor
within
her
coming
from
at
such
a
time?
She
sounded
like
Bobby.
With
that realization
came
a
smile.
Learning
to
laugh
in
hell
made
the
underworld
a
bit
more
bearable.
If
only
she’d realized
that
soon
enough
to
appreciate
the
quality
in
him.

Zazlov
sneered.
“Good
luck
trying
to
defuse
it.
You
were
such
a
good
teacher,
that
weapon
is
indestructible.

What
does
the
timer
say
right
now?
I
am
unable
to
check
my
watch
without
blowing
myself
up.” Grace
Marie
figured
she
could
talk
herself
blue
in
the
face.
This
man
didn’t
intend
to
give
up,
and
time
was ticking
away
to
determine
what
to
do
with
the
nuclear
weapon.

Her
father
straightened
quickly,
a
smile
she’d
seen
many
times
before
spreading
over
his
face.
Total
victory.

Yet
she
didn’t
dare
step
out
to
ask.

Felicia
grinned
as
well.
“Ohmigod,
Matt!
You’ve
fricking
done
it.”
She
glanced
skyward.
“Sorry
Sister Martha
Michelle,
but
ohmigod
again.
You
did
it,
Matt!”

“Damn
straight,
I
did.”

Zazlov’s
body
shook
with
rage
at
the
announcement,
his
soulless
eyes
turning
to
pure
evil
determination.

Don’t!Grace
wanted
to
scream.
Now
there
would
be
nothing
to
stop
the
man
from
blowing
himself
up.
Or was
that
what
her
father
and
Felicia
were
saying?

Grace
slipped
her
hand
through
the
bush
and
tugged
Bobby’s
knife
from
his
boot,
whispering,
“Zazlov’s just
another
crazed
and
brainwashed
terrorist.
You
can’t
reason
with
him.
It’s
time
to
stick
him.”

“That,
I
can
fucking
well
handle,”
Bobby
whispered,
his
breath
heavy,
his
muscles
bunched
as
if
finally
he could
act
after
torturous
restraint.
He’d
learned
to
control
himself
and
offer
up
calm
talk,
but
Bobby
would always
be
the
sort
who
preferred
to
toss
knives.

God
help
her,
she’d
just
told
him
to
kill
a
man.
There
wasn’t
a
choice,
but
that
didn’t
make
the
burden
any lighter.

Bobby’s
hand
slid
down
and
behind
slowly
to
take
the
weapon
from
her
and
position
it
in
his
palm.
He would
only
have
about
two
seconds
before
Zazlov
figured
out
their
intent
and
tried
to
launch
himself
at
the airplane
fuel
tanks.

Once
Bobby’s
fingers
clasped
around
the
knife
handle
he
moved
so
quickly
Grace
only
saw
the
flash
as
he shouted,
“Take
cover!”

His
knife
went
airborne,
end
over
end
over
end…

As
fast
as
Jiang
ran
past
screaming,“No!”

For
a
moment
Grace
feared
the
knife
would
embed
in
Jiang
Lee’s
back,
but
it
whizzed
past
the
woman
with perfect
aim,
nailing
Zazlov’s
free
hand
to
a
tree.
The
knife
vibrated
from
the
impact
and
held
firm
the
man’s hand,
blood
gushing.

Zazlov
screamed
in
agony
or
rage
or
both,
while
Gracie
blinked
her
surprise.

Why
hadn’t
Bobby
just
killed
Zazlov?
Because
now
everyone
had
a
few
seconds
longer
to
protect themselves
from
the
blast
as
Zazlov
made
his
decision.
In
an
act
that
was
as
merciful
as
it
was
clever,
Bobby left
it
to
the
man
to
kill
himself.
Bobby
was
the
clearest
thinking,
sanest
one
here.

Grace
Marie
flattened
her
body
to
the
ground
by
the
cover
of
her
tree,
her
eyes
caught
in
a
macabre
inability to
look
away
from
Jiang
Lee
and
Rurik
Zazlov.
His
thumb
had
already
begun
sliding
off
the
plunger.
There was
no
going
back.

The
crazy
woman
would
not
stop
running,
her
eyes
locked
on
her
lover’s.
Jiang
flung
herself
on
top
of Rurik
Zazlov
just
as—

Boom.

Jiang
Lee
absorbed
the
bulk
of
the
blast.
Body
parts
flew
in
a
hideous
spray
of
death.
Gracie
hadn’t
even realized
Bobby
had
dropped
to
cover
her,
to
protect
her.

She
couldn’t
breathe
anyway,
so
his
bulk
didn’t
matter
as
long
as
she
could
feel
his
breaths
go
in
and
out.

He
was
alive.
Heaven
forgive
her
for
being
selfish,
but
she
could
only
care
about
Bobby
and
her
father staying
alive.

Once
Bobby
levered
off
and
she
caught
a
full
glimpse
of
him,
the
pressure
exploded
inside
her.
She screamed.

Blood
bathed
Bobby
in
a
crimson
wash.

“Not
mine,”
he
assured
her.
“Well,
most
of
it
isn’t
anyway.
A
few
shrapnel
bits
here
and
there,
but
nothing lethal.”

He
yanked
her
to
him
for
a
lifeaffirming
hug
he
seemed
to
need
as
much
as
she
did.
Now
that
she
could
put her
mind
at
ease
about
him,
she
scanned
the
camp.
She
saw
her
father
and
Felicia
embracing
and
pressed against
a
bulky
tree,
still
preoccupied
with
keeping
that
damn
briefcase
closed.

Bobby’s
crew
members
all
moved
as
if
unharmed,
scratches,
scrapes
and
so
much
blood
from
the
two
illfated
lovers.
Everyone
else
was
fine.

Except
everballsy
Stones
throwing
up
in
the
orchid
bushes.

Vegas
crumpled
his
hat
with
his
family
photo
in
a
whiteknuckled
grip.

Face
sat
stunned
silent,
eyes
closed
undoubtedly
in
prayer.

None
of
them
would
get
over
this
day
with
ease.

Her
father
stood,
briefcase
cradled
in
his
hands.
“I
hate
to
break
the
thankGodwe’realive
mood
here,
but, uh,
I
lied
about
being
able
to
disarm
this
sucker.”

Silence
thudded
through
the
whole
camp
in
time
with
Gracie’s
heart
hitting
her
feet.

Bobby
released
her,
his
eyes
going
wide.
“What
the
hell
are
you
talking
about?” Already
Grace
Marie
saw
the
path
of
her
father’s
reasoning
and
heaven
help
them
all
now.
No
knife
or shrink
talk
would
save
them.