Courier (31 page)

He walked slowly toward the smashed dealership, trying and failing to make out any details in the deep shadows inside. It looked as if the new cars had been parked on both the first and second floors – there must be a vehicle ramp to the second floor somewhere. There were enormous gaping holes facing 14th Street on both floors where once shining new cars had been showcased behind plate glass.

He stepped through one of the windows, careful to avoid the remaining shards of glass and the twisted metal left by scavengers. Inside, he stood for a few minutes, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dim light coming in from the streetlights outside.

"Up here."

The voice came from high in the back of the dark building. That's where the car ramp must be, he thought.

Walking carefully, shuffling his feet to brush aside the wire snares, glass knives, and jagged steel daggers that covered the floor, and moving slowly enough to pick out and avoid the smashed metal desks strewn about, he made his way to the rear. As expected, a car ramp swept in a wide curve to the second floor, taking up the entire width of the building. It began on his right and ended in the shadows above him to the left.

He slowly walked up the ramp. Just as his feet felt where the floor leveled out on the second level, he heard, "Stop right there."

It was the quiet man who had taken Eve. He was standing against the wall to his left – completely hidden in deep shadow, and it wasn't until he stepped forward and was outlined by the light coming in through the broken windows that Rick could pick him out.

With a smooth motion, the agent drew Eve from darkness behind him. She seemed to have her hands tied behind her back, and the man was holding her casually by the upper arm. In his right hand, the .45 was in a relaxed grip, pointing somewhere between both of them. Rick thought he was making it clear that he could shoot either of them in an instant.

Rick found it oddly difficult to talk. His throat felt dry and tight. He coughed and then asked Eve, "You OK?"

"I've been better," she replied.

"Please stop talking. We have business to conduct," her captor said without much emotion in his voice. He waved the pistol at Rick. "Have you got the film? Give it to me and you two can leave."

Rick walked a few steps, moving off the ramp and toward the front of the building, but carefully not getting any closer to the agent. Then he stopped, turned, and put his back against the right wall. He still couldn't clearly see Eve and her captor in the dim light but knew he was also invisible in the deep shadow. In his head, he knew exactly where they were standing – for once, his memory was useful instead of merely painful.

Rick took a deep breath and blew it out in a tired sigh. "No, I really don't think I can do that. I think that you'll have to kill both of us whether we give you the film or not. You can't afford to leave us alive with what we might know."

Then he slowly pivoted until he faced the front of the building with his right side toward where he knew the agent must be – this presented the smallest target to his opponent. As quietly as he could, he reached into his jacket and pulled out the film. Transferring it to his left hand, he reached into his pocket again.

"The fact is that we actually don't know anything except that a bunch of assholes have been trying to kill us, but I don't think you can afford to take my word on that." He held the film up with his left arm straight so it was far from his body. He twisted it in his hand so it glinted in the dim light.

"Now, here is the damned film. It's never even been developed. I've got no idea what's on it and don't care."

He was sure he could feel the man's trigger finger tighten.

"Before you do something stupid, consider the chance that I might be lying. Imagine how dumb you'll feel if you kill us both and that's not the right film and you have no idea where the real one is."

There was a pause, and then the voice came from the shadows. "I could simply take the chance."

"You could."

There was another pause. Then the man spoke again. "OK, we'll make a deal. You throw that film over to me, and she'll walk to you."

Rick tossed the can high and edge-on to the floor so that it clattered and rolled noisily before settling near to where he knew the man and Eve were standing. Eve walked carefully until she stood next to Rick against the wall.

The voice came again from the deep shadows. "It looks right."

"Now you're about to make a big mistake," Rick said calmly. "You're about to shoot us."

"Where's the mistake?"

"You can't see me, but I've got a pistol aimed right between your eyes. I can't see you either, but I have a perfect memory. Usually it's just a curse because it keeps replaying the damn war, but right now, I know exactly where you are."

There was a pause. "The question is whether I believe you."

"Yes, it is."

He pulled his right hand out of his jeans. The down-up motion was almost too fast to see, and without stopping the upward motion, he underhanded the Zippo in a high arc toward the opposite wall. At the same time, he shouted, "Now!" squeezed his eyes shut, and drove sideways into Eve, knocking her to the floor and thrusting his hand over her eyes.

Orange flame blossomed into a painfully bright blaze of brilliant white as the magnesium shavings Eps had packed into the lighter's wind guard ignited. Even with his eyes closed, it hurt, but Rick knew the other man would be blinded completely. He heard a gunshot, and a big bullet
thwacked
into the concrete just over his head.

He opened his eyes to see a jet of flame reaching out from the ramp to the agent, followed instantly by a second as the double thundercrack of a shotgun reverberated in the concrete room. The magnesium burned out at that instant and darkness returned, but Rick still had an image on his retinas – the agent arched backward with his head pinned to the wall and his face transformed into a scarlet mask.

The silence that followed was broken by the sound of a shotgun's breech breaking, shells ejecting, new shells going in, and the weapon being readied again.

Hector walked slowly up the dark ramp with the shotgun locked against his shoulder and aimed into the darkness of the opposite wall. Rick could just make him out as he carefully walked closer, poked with his toe, and then crouched down over the body.

In a calm voice, Hector said, "This thing does make a mess. Damn near blew his head off."

He picked something up off the floor, stood up, and walked over to where Rick and Eve were lying. "Good thing you told me to look away. That wasn't no ordinary lighter, Zip."

"I've been telling you that for years."

Hector held up small silver square. The Zippo. "Do you want it back?"

"I guess not." Rick stayed where he was. "You can keep it. It's got to be damn near empty by now."

Hector went to the wall over their heads and put his finger in the large hole. "Man, those forty-fives really do some damage."

He turned toward them, and in the light from the front window, Rick could see him toss the lighter up and down in his palm.

"I don't think I want it. Last thing I want to be reminded of is you and the goddamn Seventh Cavalry. Anyway, I think I'm going to quit smoking. It's bad for my health."

"OK." Rick gestured with his hand. "Toss it over. I'll give it to Eve."

"The hell you will," she said. "And would you please stop chatting and get off me? I think you broke a rib, Trooper."

Rick could see as Hector looked at her and his teeth flashed in a smile.

Then the smile froze and Hector's eyes jerked wildly. A line appeared across his neck, and blood, black in the dim light, burst out. Rick and Eve were drenched in seconds. As they watched, Hector slowly fell to his knees and then toppled forward onto Rick.

Standing where Hector had been was Mrs Jin – razor in her hand and the glitter of tears on her face.

"I loved him." She gestured back to where the agent's body lay. "He killed my father. For that, I loved him."

She bent down over Hector's body with the razor held out in front, reaching for Rick.

"I loved him," she repeated softly.

 

 

Then he
did
move.

His right hand shot up and clutched the woman's throat. His arm locked to keep her away. She flailed with the razor, but he pulled his face under Hector's body, and the tough leather of his jacket protected his arm.

In all his dreams, he had been helpless, unable to change one instant of the inevitable progression of events in the blood-soaked mud under the tall grass.

But this was no dream. This was real, and he could fight.

He could win.

The pitiless determination that drove him to year after year of weights and endless days of squeezing that goddamn pink ball poured into his grip. The frantic fear of the past days of pursuit and his anger at his friends being hunted raised him from the deep well of years spent battling darkness and despair. Now, the woman lying at his side gave him a fragile hope that he could heal his invisible wounds. He had come too far and suffered too much to lose now.

Slowly, steadily, his fingers began to close. He could feel the muscles and cartilage of the woman's neck being crushed in his grip. She pulled back, twisting violently.

An expert at survival in a last desperate effort to survive.

His hand never weakened. His fingers drove deep, stopping her breath, clamping off her blood, ripping the life from her body. He never closed his eyes, forcing himself to watch as she fought her final battle in a lifetime of struggle.

For an instant, Rick thought he could see her face soften in the dim light.

Like a child woken from nightmare by the loving touch of a parent.

Then she was gone.

He held her long after she stopped moving.

CHAPTER 36

 

The wind was brutally cold.

It swept across the flat land and the hard-packed snow. There were no clouds, but the sun looked weak and small in the immense blue sky.

Rick could see where the land rose to the mountains in the far distance. It would take some time to get used to this much sheer unbroken space.

He had time.

"Like what you see, Trooper?"

He felt her arms come around him where he stood in the door of the small cabin. Eve leaned into him, and he felt as if a bubble of joy had just enclosed them.

He wrapped his arms across hers.

"Starting a new year in a big new place. Works for me."

She looked around his shoulder. "It's nice and quiet now. When it warms up, I'll have to deal with relatives." She snuggled into him. "I can't decide what's worse – being chased by the CIA, the FBI, and the Bureau of Indian Affairs, or the tribal elders. I know that federal agents don't come deep into the reservation these days, but they should have laws to keep my aunts away."

"It's a good place to hide, and I'll buy a bike so we can leave when it gets warmer." He thought for a moment. "But I do see one problem."

"What?"

"I'll have to start obeying the speed limit." He reached back and pulled out his wallet, removing one of two driver's licenses. "I'm afraid that Rick Putnam passed away back in DC – at least for a while."

She let him go and they went back into the cabin, where a fire was burning in a small iron woodstove.

"Can you get used to some guy named Jack?"

"Cheyenne men change their names several times as they go through life."

"What about women?"

"No, once we settle on something, we don't ever change."

"You're telling me," he said playfully.

She swung a fist at him, but he caught it, wrapped her up in his arms, and they fell onto the couch. After a short period of struggle, ending when both of them groaned from still-unhealed injuries, he asked, "What would my Cheyenne name be?"

"First of all, you don't get to have a Cheyenne name. It's not a joke."

"Fair enough."

"But if you did, it could be…" She paused. "It could be
Hevovitastamiutsto
."

He pronounced it carefully, trying to mimic all the tones and pauses. "What's it mean?"

She slipped her hand inside his shirt and rested it on his chest. "Whirlwind. For the way you sleep."

"It's a little better now. At least I'm not waking up alone."

"No, you've already woken me up by then." She grinned, then clearly thought of something. "Did you hear the radio?"

"Nope. Got sort of lost in the landscape."

"They've stopped the bombing of Hanoi. The peace talks are back on and all the remaining American troops are coming out." Eve gave him a squeeze. "Corey came through."

"Damn." He shook his head. "We paid a high price. Hope it was worth it."

"You don't get to choose those who go into battle beside you," she said. "That's something only they decide. Your duty is to make their sacrifice mean something."

Rick nodded. The two of them sat in each other's arms and looked into the fire as the small cabin slowly filled with a comfortable silence.

 

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

 

Authors usually seem to have dozens of people to thank when they get a book published. The way this worked out, I didn't have that many people working with me but that makes the efforts of those listed here all that more crucial to getting Courier finished.