by Barry Eisler
Livia was too enraged and adrenalized to even slow down. All she wanted was to get her hands on him—
At the last instant he stepped offline with his left foot and caught her with a sharp right jab in the jaw. She saw stars. She tried to pivot and get a hold of him, but he was fast. He sidestepped again and this time caught her with a left hook that staggered her. She stepped back, breathing hard, her hands up, thinking boxer.
He smiled as they circled each other. “You like that? I hope so, because I have a lot more. Maybe they’ll all kill each other back there. Maybe it’ll be just you and me and Boomer. Think you’d like that? A threesome, how does that sound?”
“What’s wrong?” she said, her breathing ragged. “Can’t rape by yourself, Snake? You need your friend?”
“Oh, I’ve raped plenty of bitches without Boomer, don’t you worry. And I’m going to do you either way. Gonna do you so—”
She darted in. This time she was ready for the sidestep and the jab. She turtled her head, got her arms up high, and absorbed the impact along her bicep and forearm. Just as fast, he retracted the arm and went to dance away—
She snagged his left sleeve at the wrist. He was fast again, coming in with the other elbow. She didn’t care. She had him now. She turtled tighter and sidestepped to the right. The elbow glanced off her head. She yanked his arm down hard with her right hand, pushed his head the other way with her left, and leaped over his shoulder with her right leg. His balance broke and he went down onto all fours. She stayed with him, transitioning to omoplata, a jiu-jitsu arm bar. He must have had some ground training in addition to the boxing, because he tried to roll out of it.
Here it comes, you rapist motherfucker—
She gripped the back of his belt with her right hand and scooted left. His base broke and he collapsed to his stomach, his left arm trapped between her legs. She leaned forward, clasped her hands around his neck and far armpit, and scissored her legs violently. His face plowed into the fish-bone beach and his arm went high. There was an instant of resistance—then she felt his shoulder separate and his elbow break. He screamed, the sound muffled by the fish bones.
His newly fractured arm flopped loose, and for a crazy second, she remembered something an instructor had once told her—Actually, the knee bends in both directions, it’s just that one requires a trip to the hospital. She planted a hand on his head, shoved his face into the ground, and swiveled across his back. He tried to turn in to her, showing some training again, but she flowed with him easily, catching his good arm and dragging it toward her. He clasped his hands together, but his left arm was useless and the grip meant nothing. She caught his good elbow in a figure-four Kimura lock, twisted hard, and broke it. He shrieked again. She disengaged and stood. Snake writhed on his back, his face a rictus of agony.
She barely heard his screams. The dragon’s voice eclipsed them—
Kill him. Kill him. Take his back, spine lock, neck crank, cripple him, KILL HIM—
And then another sound cut through all of it. A woman’s voice. Muffled. Agonized. Desperate.
Sherrie Dobbs.
Livia ran to the open trunk. The light was on inside it. Sherrie Dobbs was on her side, naked, bound, and gagged, shaking, almost convulsing. A pair of wet diapers lay next to her. They must have come off somehow. The trunk was soaking wet, and it took Livia a second to realize why.
The woman’s water had broken.
46
Livia reached for the Vaari so she could cut away the gag and the cords around the woman’s wrists and ankles, but of course it wasn’t there—the men had taken it.
“Sherrie,” she said, her voice quavering. “Sherrie, it’s me, Livia. We talked on the phone. You’re going to be okay.”
Livia leaned into the trunk and tried to untie the gag, but her fingers were shaking too badly and the knot was too tight. Come on, come on . . .
A smell cut through the sulfur stink of the air. Blood.
Not just her water, she’s hemorrhaging.
“Sherrie, listen to me,” Livia said. “I’m not leaving you. I’m going to look inside the car. I need a knife. To cut off the gag and the cords. Do you understand? I’m not leaving.”
The woman moaned and her eyes rolled in terror. Livia couldn’t spare another second to reassure her. She dashed around to the passenger side. It was locked. She screamed in frustration and ran back toward the driver side.
Somehow, Snake had gotten to his feet and was staggering away. She braced to go after him, thinking You should have broken a knee—
And then his knee did break. It seemed to shatter, like a sapling hit by an axe, and he went down.
Carl.
She got in the car and popped the glove compartment.
Come on, come on, these guys are pros, there’s going to be a knife in the car—
There was. A black folder. She grabbed it, jumped out, and ran back to the trunk.
“Sherrie. Hold still. I’m going to cut off the gag. I’m getting you out. You’re going to be okay.”
She got the blade up alongside Sherrie’s jaw, sliced through the gag, and pulled it free. Sherrie drew in a huge, agonized breath and retched as though she might vomit.
“Hang on,” Livia said. “Hang on.” She cut the cords around Sherrie’s wrists and ankles.
She heard footsteps, coming fast from behind her. She spun, bringing up the knife. It was Little.
“What’s going on back there?” she said.
“They’re all dead. Sniper.”
“Boomer?”
“Alive. But he’s not going anywhere.”
Ten yards away, Snake writhed on his back. “Get me a fucking doctor!” he yelled. “I know my rights!”
Little strode over. “Little, don’t!” Livia called after him. “Presley. And the other girls.”
But if Little couldn’t help himself, there was nothing she could do.
He paused and looked down at Snake. “You’re lucky I don’t put you out of your goddamn misery,” he said.
“Get me a doctor!” Snake yelled again.
Little stood looking at him for another second. Then, bellowing a cry of pure, primal rage, he raised a leg and stomped Snake’s groin. Snake shrieked and tried to wriggle away, but between his arms and his knee he could barely move. Little went on stomping for a few more seconds, and then stopped. Snake lay there, whimpering.
Little came up alongside Livia. “He’ll live,” he said.
Sherrie moaned. She was very pale. “It hurts,” she said. “Oh God, it hurts.”
It was horrible, there wasn’t even anything to cover her with. “We need to get her to a hospital,” Livia said to Little. “The Jeep is too far. Can you get Boomer’s keys and drive his minivan over here?”
“On it.” He took off running.
“Sherrie,” Livia said, reaching into the trunk. “Take my hand. Come on, let’s get you out of there.”
She heard a voice from the other side of one of the dilapidated structures, the Texas accent unmistakable. “Labee? It’s me, Carl. Okay to come in?”
She felt a huge surge of relief. “Yes,” she called back.
He came around the building and jogged over, a suppressed rifle cradled in his arms. “You all right?” he said, with that supernatural calm he got when he was sniping.
If things were surreal a minute ago, she didn’t even have a word for this. “What are you doing here?” was all she could manage.
“Old Kanezaki told me. I’ll explain the rest later. What do you need from me?”
“Are they all dead?”
“As Julius Caesar. Except for the two I understand you’re interested in. The one I just disabled, and the other it looks like your partner already did the same.”
He set the rifle against the car and looked in the trunk. “Oh, damn.” He was wearing some kind of tactical vest over a long-sleeved shirt. He stripped off the vest, dropped it, then got the shirt off and handed it to Livia. Livia went to cover Sherrie with i
t, then stopped.
The baby was crowning.
“Sherrie,” she said. “We need to get you out of the trunk. That baby is coming right now.”
“Oh, damn,” Carl said again, for the first time since she’d met him apparently stuck for words.
Livia looked at the ground. She couldn’t imagine a less sterile place. “We don’t even have anything to put down,” she said.
“Floor mats?” Carl said.
“Good idea. Hurry.”
Carl ducked into the car. A moment later he was back with four floor mats.
“Spread them out,” Livia said.
He kneeled and arranged the mats. He looked up at her and said, “You know how to do this? ’Cause I sure don’t.”
“Cops get trained, yeah.”
She left out the part about never actually having done it.
She handed the shirt back to Carl. “Put this on the mats.” Then she turned to Sherrie. The woman was so pale. And her breathing was rapid and shallow. She was covered in greasy sweat.
“Sherrie,” Livia said, reaching in and taking the woman’s hand. “I need you to sit up. Can you do that for me?”
Sherrie shifted and cried out. “It hurts!” She started crying.
Livia felt her composure slipping. “Carl, get her out of there.”
Carl stood and leaned into the trunk. “Ma’am, I’m going to slide my arms under you and pull you right out. I think if you could hold onto my neck, that might make for a smoother ride. Can you do that?”
Sherrie groaned and panted. “I think so.”
Carl got in position. Sherrie put her arms around his neck. “Okay,” he said. “One, two, three.”
He lifted her out. She screamed. Her thighs were covered with blood.
“Set her down,” Livia said. “Hurry.”
Carl set her down on the pallet he had made and moved aside.
“Do you have a flashlight?” Livia said.
“You bet.” He pulled a mini-light from a pocket.
“Hold it for me. I need to see what I’m doing.”
Livia kneeled and furiously wiped the sweat from her eyes. “I need you to push, Sherrie. Okay? Your baby’s almost here. I’m going to help you. But you have to push.”
Sherrie groaned. “Oh, God,” she said. “God!”
Carl shone the light. Livia got her hands in position. She reminded herself of what they’d told her at the academy: Don’t pull the baby. Just support its head. Remember, it’ll be slippery. Don’t drop it.
“That’s it,” Livia said, and she realized she was crying. “That’s it.”
More of the baby’s scalp emerged. Sherrie screamed.
“Almost there,” Livia said. “You got this. You made it this far, Sherrie, you can do anything. Come on now.”
She heard a car behind them. Carl said, “It’s Little. We’re all right.”
She saw a miniature face. She got her hands under the head.
“Looking good,” she said. “Just a little more. Push, Sherrie. You’re so close. Just—”
And then the shoulders slipped through, and suddenly the whole baby was on the way, sliding out so rapidly it almost went right over Livia’s hands. Don’t pull, just support, don’t pull, just support—
And then the baby was out, in Livia’s arms. It was so tiny, and its eyes were closed—
Is it breathing?
She wasn’t sure. What was she supposed to do?
Check the cord. It shouldn’t be around the baby’s neck. If it is, unwrap it.
She looked. Oh God, the cord was around the neck. She unwound it carefully. The baby’s little mouth and nose were covered in mucus or something. She wiped it away as carefully as she could—
Come on, baby, come on, come on, COME ON . . .
The baby sucked in a huge, whooping breath, then gave an outraged cry ten times too big for such a little body.
Sherrie Dobbs looked up, crying. Livia was still crying, too. “It’s a girl,” Livia said. “Here. Here’s your brave little girl.” She placed the baby on Sherrie’s breast. Sherrie held it and shook with emotion, alternately laughing, cooing to the baby, and sobbing.
But the woman was still bleeding. And she was so pale.
“Sherrie, listen to me,” Livia said. “You’re bleeding. We need to get you to a hospital. And that means we need to get you in a car. A minivan. Can you do that?”
Sherrie looked at her baby, then at Livia. Her face was pale and exhausted, but her eyes were fierce.
“I can do anything,” she said.
47
When they arrived at the hospital in Palm Springs, Sherrie Dobbs was seizing and delirious. Doctors took the baby to the NICU and Sherrie into emergency surgery.
Livia had initially insisted on driving, but Carl had said, “Your head’s bleeding. You might have a concussion. You stay in back with Sherrie and her new girl, okay? Leave the driving to me for a change.”
She wanted to argue, but she knew he was right. And maybe it was past time she found a way to accept a little help.
Just before they left, Little had said, “The stereo was on when I got in. Keep it off.”
Livia looked at him. “The song?”
Little nodded. “She doesn’t need to hear it again. But the CD is still in there. That’ll be evidence.”
“Does it have gas?”
He smiled grimly. “Yes, it does. Boomer was a careful criminal.”
Livia had to give Carl credit—he drove like she did, covering the forty miles to Palm Springs in less than twenty-five minutes. Livia called the hospital on the way to make sure they were ready. Also the Kanab Police Department, so they could get word to Sherrie Dobbs’s husband. And finally Kanezaki, who said he would send a team to retrieve the truck Carl had been driving, and the rifle.
Little stayed behind. He was going to secure Boomer and Snake, bring up the Jeep, and throw them in the trunk. And then drive them to the Palm Springs Police Department, which Livia agreed would be better than the California Highway Patrol or the San Diego County Sheriff’s Department. Safer to keep it as local as possible for now, away from the reach of Boomer’s father.
The doctors wanted to examine Livia, too. She knew they should—the danger past and the adrenaline faded, her head was throbbing, and she thought Carl was probably right about a concussion—but she told them she needed to make a few phone calls first.
She went out to the parking lot. It was still full dark, but the air was early-morning cool, and after the Salton Sea everything smelled wonderfully fresh. The lawns around the lot were startlingly dense and well manicured. The city must have been wasting outrageous amounts of water to create such lushness in the desert, but for the moment, the sight of so much vibrant green was nothing but beautiful.
She saw a man leaning against a tree on the other side of the lot, just beyond the ambit of a streetlight. Carl. She walked over.
“She going to be okay?” he asked.
“They don’t know yet.”
“The baby?”
“I’m not sure. I think so.”
They were quiet for a moment. There were so many things she wanted to say to him, and they were all so confusing.
“You make me nervous when you stare at me like that,” he said. “I can’t tell whether you’re going to hug me, or punch me.”
She wasn’t sure herself. She managed to say, “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. Next time, you could even get in touch. You know if you do, I’ll come running.”
Maybe that’s the problem.
“How did you find me?” she said.
“Kanezaki called, thinking you might need backup.”
“You couldn’t have gotten here from Bali that fast.”
He smiled. “Right, I forgot I was talking to an ace detective. Well, you got me. I was already here. Old Fallon got in touch, told me you were taking on some powerful opposition, so I flew to Seattle, thinking I’d be close by just in case. But you were alread
y on the move. Luckily, Kanezaki was able to have a plane pick me up. You know, he’s a fine travel agent, but it occurs to me you could save everyone a lot of trouble just by being more up-front.”
She knew he was right. Knew her stubbornness could have gotten her killed. And Little. And Sherrie Dobbs and her baby.
But she hated the thought of needing help.
“Don’t be mad at them,” he went on. “There are people who care about you, that’s all. And you know what? Maybe you inspire people, too. Maybe they want to be part of your work. You ever think of it that way?”
The truth was, she hadn’t. Her work was her work. She didn’t expect anyone else to see the world the way she did.
“How did you know where to find me at the Salton Sea?” she said. “You didn’t follow our car. I would have seen you. And Boomer and Snake would have seen you if you’d tried to follow them.”
“All true. In this case, credit for my prescience about your location must go to Kanezaki’s Azrael drone.”
She realized she should have known. “It has a transmitter?”
“I think it communicates with a satellite or something. I don’t know the details. Kanezaki doesn’t generally share information except in exchange for information, and I’m currently light on anything new to offer him. I guess I could have asked about the drone anyway, but I was about maxed out in the favor department on account of his flying me on private airplanes and equipping me with badass sniper rifles and all that. But yeah, as soon as you turned it on, old Kanezaki knew exactly where you were and relayed the information to me. Which was all for the best, I’d say.”
She didn’t respond, and he went on. “Is this why you told me to get lost last time we talked? ’Cause you were afraid of needing someone?”
She didn’t answer.
“Why does it have to be so hard?” he said. “I mean, if you hadn’t come to my rescue in Thailand, I’d be dead twice over. And the second time, I’d told you not to, remember?”
Again she didn’t respond. Though of course she did remember.
“Not to press,” he went on, “but do you ever wonder why you’re so driven to help other people but so stubborn about accepting a little help yourself?”