Flashpoint (37 page)

But wasn’t it better to be hammered now than later? Wouldn’t it hurt less just to get the hammering over and done with?

No. Yes. Maybe. She couldn’t make up her mind.

Tess told Jimmy how she’d gotten out of her cell. The narrow walls, the high ceiling, the climb up, the clothes on the floor. The guard’s expression of disbelief when he’d stared into what looked to be an empty cell. She didn’t speak the language, but she understood his tone.

The door opened, he came inside, she dropped. A kick to the ’nads, a kick to the head, she’d grabbed his weapon, and locked him, unconscious, in the cell.

No biggie.

Except it was. She was proud of herself.

And completely in awe of Sophia when Jimmy, in turn, told how they’d walked in through the front gate.

“I can’t believe she would do that.” Tess shook her head. “I met Bashir. He’s . . . frighteningly normal. He scared me to death.”

He put his arms around her and held her close again. “I was . . .” He took a deep breath, blew it out hard. “Scared, too. When I found out where you were. All I could think was that I’d made you stay behind, because the thought of anything happening to you makes me . . . so freaking crazy. And here you were, in this awful danger that you wouldn’t have been in if you’d come with us and . . . it was all my fault. I don’t think I’ve ever hated myself as much as I did right then.”

She pulled back, astonished at all he’d copped to. But now he wouldn’t look at her.

“We need to get moving.” He stood up, opened his phone, and dialed a number. “Tom must’ve hit a snafu,” he said, phone to his ear. “Deck’s not picking up—he must still be in the lobby.” Where Bashir’s guards would look at him hard if he—supposedly from a tiny mountain village—pulled out a phone and took a call. Jimmy shut his own phone. “Let’s get that sat-dish and go.”

“It’s been only a few minutes,” Tess said, squeezing the words past her heart, which was securely in her throat. “Let’s give it a couple more.” God, she wanted Tom to call. She wanted that chopper to swoop in and take them out of here. And she wanted Jimmy to tell her that he loved her.

“If we get separated,” Jimmy said, still all business, “for whatever reason, work your way down to the garage. Do you know where that is?”

Tess shook her head.

“Other side of the palace,” he said. “As far east as you can go. It’s a separate building. You know how to fire a grenade launcher?”

“No,” she said, blinking at the sudden change of subject. “I haven’t ever—”

“That’s okay. Take this then.” He handed her a generic-looking 9mm semiautomatic and a couple of extra clips.

“Jimmy.”

He stopped rearranging his equipment and looked at her, his face only dimly lit from the light in the hall.

“Thanks for . . . being so honest,” she said.

He laughed, but it was without humor, and his words came back to her in a rush.
I don’t think I’ve ever hated myself as much as I did right then.

“What if I told you that about five years ago, I had the opportunity to rid the world of Padsha Bashir?” he asked. “But I didn’t, because that part of my mission was optional. So I packed up and went home instead.”

She was silent, hoping he’d tell her more.

“Sometimes the assignment is not optional. Sometimes the deletion order comes down and . . . Deletion—nice word, huh? ‘Delete as many of the terrorists as possible.’ I’ve been performing deletions a long time, Tess.”

Now he was looking at her as if he expected . . . what? That she would faint? Scream? Turn away in disgust?

Was he serious? He was.

“I know that,” she said. “Jimmy, do you really think I don’t know that? Hello, I worked in support.” She’d read all of his reports. All of Decker’s, too.

Now he was the one who didn’t seem to know what to say.

“You might want to check in with people every now and then,” Tess told him, “before you decide—for them—how and what they should feel. Like Decker. Have you actually talked to Deck about the fact that this is your last mission with him?”

She answered her own question. “Of course not. Why talk to him and risk finding out how he really feels about losing your invaluable skills as a team member, your experience and expertise as an operator, and, oh yeah, your love and friendship. But hey. You already know how he
should
feel, so don’t talk to him.

“And me, I guess I’m supposed to be, what? Repelled by you? Horrified because you’re so
bad
?” She laughed in disgust. “You’re the one who hates yourself—I happen to like you. But you’re so wrapped up in who you think you are and what you think you deserve. You enjoy being dark and tortured and . . . and . . . running away to Mexico, don’t you? Because God forbid you ever let yourself be too happy—everyone knows bad people shouldn’t be happy. Frankly, I think you’re full of crap, because I look at you, and what I see is mostly good. But okay, fine.” She went up the stairs, past him. “Be bad and dark and miserable. But do it by yourself, Nash, because I don’t need that.”

He followed her. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Of course he was. Miserable people were always sorry.

“I’ve read your Agency file, you know,” she told him.

“I don’t have a file.”

“That’s what you think.”

He paused. “Are you serious?”

“Nash, Diego. Subject must be convinced without any doubt whatsoever of both necessity and moral justification of mission,” she quoted.

“You’re making that up.”

“Nash, Diego. Formerly known as James Santucci, aka Jimmy the Kid. Subject would not fold under pressure to provide information that would lead to the arrest and conviction of . . . What was the name? Victor something. Subject’s mother didn’t visit once while subject was in juvenile detention from . . . When was it? Something like 1982 to 1986.”

“You hacked into an unhackable file,” Jimmy breathed.

“No such thing,” Tess told him.

“When did you . . . ?”

“Shortly after I joined the Agency,” she admitted. “A few weeks after we met.”

The look on his face was one she’d remember for the rest of her life.

“Imagine that,” Tess told him. “I read your file, all those years ago and I still fell in love with you.”

His phone rang, ending this conversation.

It was Tom. Jimmy spoke to him briefly, then snapped his phone shut. “We’ve got a
go
,” he told her. “Ten minutes, LZ right here on the roof. We need to go tell Decker. Lock and load and follow me.”

Tess grabbed the 9mm and followed him down the stairs.
Follow me
instead of
Stay here
.

It wasn’t quite as good as “I love you, too,” but it was close enough.

Sophia was watching Decker pace when she heard it.

Angry voices down the hall, moving toward them.

Decker moved in front of her, and Dave stood up.

She knew they’d both counted the guards. There’d been little else to do while they’d sat here and waited . . . for what?

For Nash to return, with Tess in tow, at which point they’d . . . what?

Stand up and walk away, hoping nobody noticed.

Stranger things had happened.

But now that scenario was off the table.

Sophia stood, too, glancing again at the guards who were drowsing by the door.

There were only two soldiers in here, but twelve others right outside and somewhere between five and ten hanging out in a nearby room that looked like it might be a cafeteria.

It was just off a corridor to the left of the front gate. Another hall led right. Decker had told her with his eyes that that was the route they’d take when heading for the garage.

Sophia wanted to flee, despite knowing that no one could outrun bullets.

Except Padsha Bashir wasn’t brandishing a gun as he limped around the corner and into view.

He held his sword, the sword that had killed Dimitri, the sword she’d used to try to kill Bashir. He held it high as he came at her, roaring his anger.

He had the strength in his arms to separate her head neatly from her shoulders—her worst nightmare come to life.

Except, in her dreams, Sophia hadn’t clutched a weapon of her own in her hands. And, in her dreams, she’d always been alone.

With Decker on her right and Dave on her left, they opened up on him all at once, and Sophia knew that the shock and surprise on Bashir’s face, and the blood that bloomed on his white shirt and vest would replace the visions of Dimitri that haunted her dreams.

One violent end for another.

And no guarantee she would sleep any easier at night, ever again.

Jimmy moved silently down the stairs. Tess followed several steps behind, serving tray in her hands, 9mm hidden beneath her robe.

She’d read his Agency file. Shit, she was good.

What was she doing, wasting her time with him? She had to be crazy, knowing what she knew, to fall in love with him.

You might want to check in with people every now and then before you decide how and what they should feel.

“I think you’re crazy,” he told her now, talking even though he knew he should keep his mouth glued shut. For many reasons.

She didn’t say anything as they went down another flight of stairs. They were on the ground floor now. But then she laughed softly. “Is that really a problem for you?”

Jimmy didn’t answer—it would have been hard to talk over the tearing sound of machine-gun fire.

Tess dropped her tray and followed as he ran for the lobby.

Decker grabbed Sophia and pulled her toward the corridor while Dave, running backward, created a wall of suppressing fire.

Shit, someone was running toward them. He raised his weapon and—

Nash. And Tess.

“Go!” Nash shouted, covering the lobby so Dave could move forward.

They’d leapfrog like this, running and shooting and running and shooting, all the way to the garage.

Tess came to help him with Sophia.

“Upstairs,” she told Decker as they ran down the hall. “Tom’s got a chopper coming—comm system’s up.”

“No way!”

“Yes, way. Should be here any minute, sir.”

“I love you,” Decker said. “Tell Dave!”

Dave loved her, too.

Tess watched as Decker and Dave tossed Sophia into the helicopter. The racket of the blades drowned out the sound of Jimmy’s weapon firing, as he laid down what was called in the military “a field of covering fire.”

Basically the theory was if you fired an automatic weapon in a general direction, everyone in that area would hit the deck. With their heads down, they were thus unable to fire their own weapons in return.

Tess squeaked as Decker grabbed one of her arms and Dave grabbed another and then she, too, was on board the chopper.

Her landing wasn’t as rough as she’d imagined, since she was caught and held quite securely in the strong arms of a very young man in a desert-print camouflage uniform, streaks of black and green on his otherwise freckled face.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he shouted politely, as if they’d bumped into each other by accident on the street.

SEALs.

There were four others on board. One, with some kind of medical insignia on his uniform, had helped Sophia into a seat and was checking to make sure she hadn’t been hurt.

Her SEAL—it was hard not to think of him as hers, he was just too cute with that choirboy face—pulled her toward Sophia and out of the way of the door.

The others helped Dave, then Jimmy, then Decker on board.

“Go, go, go!” one of them—brawny, with blond hair and a face like a boxer—shouted to the pilot.

Tess had just sat down, but now she sprang to her feet. “Wait!” Oh, God.

She looked at Jimmy, who knew exactly what she was thinking. “Will Schroeder,” he shouted.

She’d forgotten Will Schroeder.

The helicopter was already up and moving out of range of the guards and their weaponry.

They were safe. They were heading for home.

“They’ll kill him,” Tess shouted, and Decker spoke to the SEAL who’d given the order to go.

Whatever Deck said seemed pretty persuasive, because the SEAL spoke into the lip mike he was wearing, and the helicopter circled back.

Jimmy had made his way to her side. “Where is he?”

“Lowest level, east wing,” she said. “There’s a second row of cells that you might not see if— Look, it’ll be easier just to show you.”

“No,” he said. “It won’t. Deck and I are going. I’ll see you in a couple weeks.”

A couple of . . . ? “Jimmy! This is my mistake!”

“You told me you’d found Will,” he argued. “I forgot him, too.” He kissed her hard, a swift good-bye. “This isn’t about me wanting to keep you safe. This is about me and Deck being unstoppable together. Isn’t that what you said?”

Tess nodded.

“We’ll go back inside, we’ll get him, we’ll vanish,” Jimmy promised her. “And I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

Because it would take them that long to cross the mountains.

The helicopter came in for a brief landing on the east lawn of the palace.

And Decker and Jimmy were gone.

Sunrise lit the sky to the east as the helicopter raced away from Kazabek. Sophia watched as Tess sat and clenched her teeth, her back to the splendor of the pink and orange clouds.

She watched Tess watch the uniformed men—the SEALs—as they spoke to one another over their radio headsets. There was quite a discussion going on. She couldn’t hear what they were saying over the roar of the chopper blades, but every now and then she could read their lips. “Decker.” They kept saying, “Decker.”

Dave had told her that Decker had once been one of them—a SEAL. Apparently they knew him and weren’t any happier about leaving him and Nash behind than Tess was.

Tess was closer and apparently could hear what they were saying, because she sat up, leaning forward.

“We have to go back,” she shouted. “I just realized—Decker’s got the laptop!”

The SEALs all turned and looked at her, almost as one.

They looked at Sophia, and then at Dave, who was cradling his bag with its important cargo on his lap. He tried to hide it within the folds of his robe.