The Watcher asc-3

by Jeanne C. Stein

  At first, Lila acts like she's not going to come with us. But I'm not leaving her alone in this kitchen. She might take it upon herself to call Pedro and say something to upset our plan.

  When I give her a shove, Marta says, "Leave her alone." She turns to the woman, "Lila, venga con nosotros."

  Head down, Lila falls into step behind her mistress.

  Max and I let them lead the way outside. The fresh air and sunshine come as a welcome relief after being cooped up in that hellhole for the last—what? I've lost track of time. When I turn my face to the sun, Max looks at me with a raised eyebrow.

  "It's a myth," I explain. “The sun thing."

  He nods as if I've just explained what makes grass green or the sky blue. Like it's a perfectly normal answer to a perfectly normal question.

  Maybe there's hope for us yet.

  It's painful to watch Max wobble along. I keep an arm on his elbow, both for support and to be able to snatch that little gun out of his pocket if the need arises. Marta's done nothing to indicate that she knows we have it, so at least we have one small element of surprise.

  The door to the hangar is open. As we approach, Marta calls out and the pilot appears. He looks shocked to see Max and me. Marta says something that must put him at ease because the anxious look is replaced with a curious frown. Max listens and nods to me. "She's instructing the pilot to fly us to Tijuana. She says he's to come back immediately."

  So far, so good. The pilot returns to the hangar and in a moment, he and Pedro roll the helicopter onto the pad. The pilot dons his flight helmet and sunglasses. He climbs aboard and fires up the engine. Marta and Lila stand quietly behind us while we wait for the copter to warm up.

  The hair on the back of my neck is stirring. This is too easy. I turn to warn Max that something doesn't feel right and I catch a flash out of the corner of my eye.

  Lila has stepped close to Max. From somewhere in the folds of her voluminous skirt, she has drawn a gun, the twin, it looks like, to the one I slipped Max.

  She presses it into his back and says something that's lost to me in the roar of the helicopter engine. When I look over at Marta, she is signaling the pilot. The helicopter abruptly grows silent.

  For once, I wish my instincts had been wrong.

  CHAPTER 53

  MARTA TAKES THE GUN OUT OF LILA'S HAND. "Did you think I would let you go that easily?"

  Exasperation makes me want to tackle her this very minute, but she's got the gun pressed into Max's spine. As quick as I am, I can't be sure I could knock her away before she pulled that trigger.

  The pilot has joined us. He, too, has a gun in his hand. His is bigger. A .45.

  I release my impatience in a sigh. "I thought we had a deal, Marta."

  She laughs. Not pleasantly. "Oh, we did. But I've come up with a better one. I kill Max and lock you away until the hunger is more than you can bear. Then you may reconsider what I asked of you before."

  Max, testing, takes a tiny step forward and turns to me. "What does she want?"

  Marta closes the gap between them at once, keeping her gun in contact with Max's back.

  She's not taking any chances. I shrug. "Simple. She wants me to make her vampire."

  His brows shoot up. "Why would she want that?"

  Marta shoves at him in a pique of impatience. "Ask me yourself," she growls.

  Max stumbles, fights to regain his balance, tough with the broken ankle. But with the effort, he moves just far enough way from Marta to allow an attack. Marta realizes her mistake almost instantly, but I'm on her before she can correct it. I wrench the gun out of her hand and her injured wrist behind her back. I'm about to leverage the hold when the pilot's gun barks once.

  I yank her around in front of me.

  The pilot has his gun to Max's head. "The first one was to get your attention. The second will blow your friend's head off if you don't let her go."

  His English is heavily accented but very good. He has Max with an arm around his throat. I'm about to release Marta, when Max sends me a look that coupled with a tiny shake of his head, gives me cause to reconsider. He has one hand in the pocket of his jacket; I see his fingers maneuvering the gun.

  So does Marta. She starts to yell a warning. I snap her neck with one hand.

  The pilot's mouth falls open in shock. But it's momentary. His fingers tighten on the trigger. Max slumps into him and in that same moment, fires the Derringer through the fabric of his pocket.

  The pilot staggers backward, looking down at his mid-section in disbelief.

  The Derringer is a .22 and even a contact gut shot is very rarely fatal. The pilot raises the .45. Max whirls around, the gun now out, and follows up quickly with a round to the head.

  That does it. The pilot goes down like a rock.

  Lila and Pedro are screaming. I toss Marta's body toward them and scramble to pick up Lila's gun and the pilot's .45.

  It's not until the adrenaline has stopped pumping that the reality of the situation hits.

  "Max," I yelp. "You killed the pilot. How the fuck are we going to get out of here?"

  For the first time, I get a real smile out of Max. "How do you think," he says. "We fly."

  "You know how to fly a helicopter?"

  "Don't sound so shocked."

  "But you never told me you could fly a helicopter."

  "You never told me you were a vampire. I think your secret trumps mine."

  We hold this conversation as we make our way toward the helicopter. Max pauses at the hatch. "What do we do about those two?"

  I turn back to look at Lila and Pedro. They are prostate with grief over Maria's death. Lila is on the ground, holding Marta and rocking her body as if it were a child's. Pedro is standing over them both, tears streaming down his face. Neither looks in our direction.

  "Leave them."

  If the coldness of my reply fazes Max, he doesn't show it. He doesn't argue, either. He merely reaches into the copter and picks up the pilot's helmet.

  He hands me one, too, and a leather jacket that was slung onto one of the rear seats. I look at it for a minute.

  He raises an eyebrow. "You're dressed in a torn sheet."

  I'd forgotten all about it. I slip on the jacket and zip it up. It falls to above my knees. I reach underneath and pull the sheet out and drop it on the ground.

  I help Max climb aboard. I take the seat beside him in front. He fires up the engine and the rotors spring to life. In a few minutes, we're in the air.

  I don't bother to look back.

  CHAPTER 54

  IT'S TOO QUIET, MAX IS CONCENTRATING UNNECESSARILY hard on the controls and I on the view outside the windshield. I know why. There's a lot Max and I have to discuss, I feel the tension like a third passenger. But I think we're afraid to begin. Afraid of the questions, afraid of the answers.

  Max radios ahead once we're in the air and asks to be patched through to SDPD. He hands me the radio when the connection is made and Williams takes my call. I tell him only that we're on our way to Tijuana. He says he'll dispatch a car for us and rings off. Abruptly. No questions about how we are, no demand for details.

  And there's something in the tone of his voice— concern, uneasiness—that makes me wonder what it is he isn't telling me. Something about Culebra, maybe? Or Burke?

  The silence between Max and me is becoming oppressive. When I can stand it no longer, I turn to Max. "How did you end up at Martinez'? Was it Foley?"

  He shakes his head. "Martinez got a message to me right after you left to meet David. Through a contact in Mexico. Said he wanted to meet."

  "And you went? Just like that?"

  He pauses, looks over at me. "Of course not. He said he knew about you. That if I didn't come, he'd put out a hit on you. That we can blame on Foley. Of course, it backfired on him. He never thought Martinez would use the information he was feeding him to come after me himself."

  "But he did."

  "Sent the helicopter to pick me up at the border
. When Foley found out that Martinez had me, he went ballistic. Came to the compound and demanded to be paid. By this time, though, Martinez had come up with his new plan. Seemed killing me wasn't going to be enough. He wanted to make sure I felt the same pain he did. By killing someone close to me. By killing you."

  "I knew Foley was following me. He could have picked me up a dozen times. Why did he choose Burke's little shindig? What connection did he have with witchcraft?"

  Max shrugs. "I don't think he did. Marta came up with the plan to lure you to some sort of black magic ritual. And she knew Burke had a connection with Culebra." His voice takes on a cautious tone. "Of course, I knew you had a connection to Culebra, too. I just didn't know what kind of connection until now."

  His tone is heavy with meaning. I wait for him to ask the questions he must want to. But when he doesn't, I break the silence by asking, "What happened to your ankle?"

  "Broke it the first day I was there. Trying to escape. Fell down those fucking stairs. Don't remember much else after that. Foley kept me drugged up until I came to and you were there."

  I'm doing a little mental calculation. "And you're sure it was Foley with you?"

  He nods. "Yeah. I'm pretty sure he was there the whole time. Why?"

  It's clear now why Williams sounded strange on the phone. He knows my anonymous caller wasn't Foley. It couldn't have been. He was too busy torturing Max to be following me around.

  So who the hell was it who made the calls? And shot Alan? And why wouldn't Williams have told me when he had me on the radio?

  "Anna?"

  Max's voice pulls me back.

  "What's wrong?"

  I see no use in holding back. "Remember when I told you I thought Foley might be following me? That he was trying to get me to lead him to you?"

  He nods. "What about it?"

  "Well, the calls continued. From what you just said, it couldn't have been Foley. But somebody was following me. He even shot a guy I was fighting."

  "A guy you were fighting? As in apprehending?"

  "Kind of. Anyway, that's not important. What is important is each time he contacted me he said something like, 'tell your boyfriend.' That's why I was so sure it was Foley. I thought he was talking about you."

  I feel Max bristle. "And he wasn't? How many boyfriends do you have?"

  "Max, you're missing the point. If the caller wasn't Foley and you aren't the boyfriend he was referring to, who is? Williams sounded really strange on the radio. I've got a bad feeling."

  He asks in a quiet voice, "You think it might be David?"

  I nod. "He's the only other man I know that I'm seen with on a regular basis." I, of course, leave off the nonhuman species. No need to go into that with Max.

  "Any idea who you've so thoroughly pissed off recently that he'd go after you like this?"

  "No." It's true. Tuturo and Guzman were captured with very little trouble. The thing that happened with Alan was unexpected and spur of the moment. It doesn't make sense.

  "We'll be at the airport in a few minutes," Max is saying. "If Williams is there, we'll get the answers."

  He says we'll get answers. It's oddly reassuring. I had the feeling the moment this helicopter touched down would be the last moment I spent with Max.

  CHAPTER 55

  MAX AND I HARDLY SAY TWO MORE WORDS TO each other the rest of the flight. But it's not awkward, the way it was when we first took off. It's strange that we should be united in our concern over a man Max barely knows.

  When the copter touches down, it's met with a contingent of police vehicles, Mexican and American. I don't know what Williams told the Federales to allow American access, but whatever it was, it worked. We're whisked away first into a terminal building where Max is questioned briefly by Mexican officials, then their DEA counterparts. He gives them coordinates to Martinez' jungle compound. I'm allowed to stay with him though no one directs questions to me.

  There is a Mexican female officer who, seeing my wardrobe predicament, produces a pair of jeans and a T-shirt from somewhere, along with, even more remarkably, underwear that actually fits. I accept them gratefully and duck into a restroom to change. When I come out, she hands me a pair of huaraches. The sandals have obviously been worn, but anything's better than going home barefoot. I slip them on and offer her the jacket in exchange. She takes it.

  Because he is hurt, Max is released fairly quickly. He declares his intention to seek medical aid in the United States, and within an hour, we're bundled into the back of a SDPD car.

  Williams has not come to meet us.

  Ortiz is the driver of the black-and-white. He waits for us to get settled in the back before turning in the seat to greet us. He glances with concern at Max's splinted ankle. "Are you in much pain?" he asks.

  Max shakes his head. "I'm fine. Have you heard anything about Anna's partner, David? Does he know she's okay?"

  Ortiz raises an eyebrow and looks at me. How does he know?

  The question confirms my worst suspicions. "Did something happen to David?" I reply bluntly and out loud. "Tell us. Quickly."

  Ortiz frowns. "I am sorry to be the one to tell you," he says. "But something did happen while you were gone. David is dead."

  CHAPTER 56

  MAX GRABS MY HAND AND SQUEEZES. "JESUS, Anna. I'm so sorry."

  I'm staring at Ortiz. This isn't right. David dead? Williams would never have sent Ortiz or anyone else to relay that news. He, better than anyone, knows what I went through to save David's life when Avery attacked him. He knows how important David is to me.

  You are lying. Why?

  Ortiz shifts uneasily in the seat and reaches to put the car in gear.

  I stop him by grabbing the back of his neck. Tell me the truth.

  Max reacts to this with a sharp intake of breath. "Anna, what are you doing?"

  Ortiz pulls against my grip. I work my fingers tight around his throat. He manages to gasp, No one else is to know.

  I release him. "Max is my friend. He can be trusted." I deliberately say it out loud. Max's eyes are wide with shock. He's trying to figure out what Ortiz did to set me off. I don't want to shock him further by admitting that Officer Ortiz is a vampire, too, and we can communicate without using our voices.

  Better to bluff.

  "I had a feeling he wasn't telling us the truth. He's going to take us to David now."

  I avoid looking at Max when I say it. It's bad enough to feel his confusion—it's thick in the air—I don't have to see it, too. The silence is, once again, no longer comfortable between us.

  Ortiz is silent, too. I don't attempt to apologize. He lied about David. Even if he'd had orders to do so in front of Max, he could have told me the truth telepathically.

  Our ride ends at County General Hospital in Hillcrest.

  Not the thing to inspire my confidence.

  The moment I pass through the doors, I'm assaulted by the smell and feel of the place. Blood and desperation. My stomach begins to churn. I was brought here to recover from the attack of the vampire who sired me. Even after all these months, the memories are painful and intense. The doctor who treated me, Avery. All that happened after.

  "Anna?"

  Max's voice penetrates the veil.

  I look up at him, realizing then, that I had come to a stop just inside the doors. His eyes are questioning.

  "Are you all right?"

  I shake off the fog of despair that descended so rapidly and without warning and release a breath. "Yes. Do you want to go to emergency while I check on David? You have to have that ankle attended to."

  He waves off the suggestion. At the same time, I realize that someone has given him a pair of crutches. I don't know when that happened. It must have been while I was lost in my own black trip down memory lane.

  Ortiz follows us inside and hands me a slip of paper. David's room number. "He's registered as Richard Smith," he says. He points us toward the elevator and when I turn to thank him, he's already headed for the door.
His stride is stiff, angry.

  I don't care.

  The elevator whisks us up seven floors and when the doors slide open, we find ourselves in a critical care unit. Once again, that queasy feeling returns. David may not be dead, but he must be hurt pretty badly to be here.

  A placard near the elevator declares that all visitors must check in at the nurse's station. When we do, Max is questioned about his own condition and if he should be on his feet. He is blunt in his insistence that he is all right. A nurse is just as insistent that he use a wheelchair and it's only after she refuses to point us to David's room, that he reluctantly agrees.

  I wait through this exchange with an uncharacteristic patience. I am afraid. Afraid to see what has been done to David. Afraid to acknowledge that I must accept responsibility for whatever it is.

  I left him alone.

  When Max is in the chair, we are allowed to proceed down the hall.

  Room 718.

  The door is closed. There's a uniformed cop sitting on a metal chair. He's got a radio and at our approach, he stands and motions us to the door. "Williams says it's okay for you to go in."

  I peek through the glass window.

  Relief surges through me like a rush of adrenaline.

  He's sitting up in bed.

  No tubes. No life monitoring equipment.

  I peer into the corners of the room.

  No Gloria.

  Hallelujah.

  David is alone and breathing on his own. How bad can it be?

  CHAPTER 57

  I HAVE MY HAND ON THE DOORKNOB WHEN MAX stops me by placing his hand over mine.

  "Does he know?" he asks.

  It takes a beat or two for me to connect the dots. "Oh. Does David know about me?” I shake my head. "No. You are the only one who knows."

  The only human who knows, that is. But I don't want to complicate things.

  He doesn't look as if he believes me. "Look, Max, I know you have questions. I'm sorry. I'll try to answer them in time."