He woke stretched out on the couch under a blanket. Everything ached. The dream stuck in his mind. At least it wasn't the Afghan village again. At least it wasn't that kid again.
Carter's Irish Grandmother sometimes dreamed of things to come. He'd inherited the ability from her, a psychic quirk that opened doors he wished would stay closed. The dreams always foreshadowed something that hadn't happened yet. It was never anything pleasant. She'd called it a gift. He thought it a curse.
This dream was one of those, but he couldn't figure out what it meant. Those black animals weren't cows, or anything like that. If it was like the other dreams he wouldn't know what it meant until he ran into it headfirst.
Chapter Eighteen
Selena had dressed in black running shorts with yellow stripes down the sides, a yellow sport bra with a black Nike swoosh on it and running shoes. A bright yellow headband kept the hair off her forehead. The only signs of yesterday were the shadows under her eyes and the scratches on her face.
The outfit showed off her trim body. "Good morning," she said. "How are you feeling? Want some coffee?"
"Morning. Yeah, coffee's good. I feel like I went ten rounds with the wrong guy."
She brought him a cup. Black and hot.
"I thought I'd go for a run and work out some of that mine."
"If you wait twenty minutes, I'll get cleaned up and go with you. There's a good trail nearby."
"You like to run?"
"It's just something I do to stay in shape."
Nick felt his brain begin to function again. He was still wearing his holster and ruined jacket. He took them off, laid the rig on the coffee table. He took the H-K from the holster, pulled the slide partway back, still a round in the chamber. He dropped the magazine and inserted a fresh one, set it back on the table.
He went into the other room. She'd made the bed. He stripped and went into the bathroom. The hot water soothed the aches and bruises and he started feeling human again. He thought about Selena. She looked good in that outfit. He felt the beginning of an erection, turned the water to cold.
He toweled off, wiped the steam off the mirror and shaved. He went back into the bedroom and pulled on shorts and a tee, put on his running shoes.
He thought about yesterday. It seemed there was always someone with a gun waiting for him, somewhere. He thought about people who would cut the finger off an old man. Someone had to do something about people like that. It was what kept him going.
He got a Colt .380 auto from the safe and tucked it out of sight under the tee. It was a lot lighter and smaller than the .45. Good for a run. After yesterday he wasn't going anywhere without something to make holes.
He came out of the bedroom.
"What happened to your leg?" she asked.
His leg looked like someone had run a cheese grater on steroids over the thigh and then taken a few digs at the calf for good measure. The scars were colorful, red, white and blue, very patriotic. Under his clothes there were puckered ridges of scar tissue on the side of his hip and ribcage.
"Afghanistan happened. A little kid threw a grenade at me. I shot him."
She looked at him. He thought he saw unspoken accusation.
"I didn't have a choice. The fragments missed the knee and the groin. Still a couple in the leg. It bothers me sometimes, but not bad. One reason I run is it keeps the leg strong."
"Let's run, then."
They headed out the door and up the hill. The morning was cool, perfect for a run before the heat built up. The trail was shady and soft underfoot. Birds darted in and out of the branches and leaves. A doe bounded across the trail in front of them. In the cool elevation and shade of the foothills, purple and yellow wildflowers still bloomed along the edge of the trail.
Carter's breathing settled into an easy rhythm, the sounds of the run and the feel of the path under his feet filling his thoughts. He felt yesterday begin to slip away. Then he remembered the man shooting at him and screaming as he went down.
The man he'd shot had tried to kill them. He'd failed, and Nick had survived. Maybe there was meaning in it, maybe not. That was a question for people who found value in probing theological and metaphysical mysteries. He wasn't one of them.
He didn't look for meaning anymore. When it came right down to it, it was all about survival. The way he dealt with it was one day at a time. It had been one day at a time for the last fifteen years. It didn't do any good to think about it. It was what he did, a job. Someone had to do it.
About two miles from the cabin they paused for a breather.
"You were right, this is a great trail." Selena looked out over a wide valley.
"I make this run every morning when I'm here."
They were soaked in sweat. Selena rested her hand on his arm, catching her breath.
"Nick…," she began. She looked at him, thoughtful. "Oh, never mind. Let's talk when we get back."
"After you." He gestured at the trail.
Back at the cabin Nick stood by the sink with a glass of water looking out the window. He felt her hand on his shoulder.
"Nick," she said.
He turned and she reached behind his head and pulled him to her. He set the water down and put his arms around her. She radiated heat. He tasted the salt of her sweat, pulled her close, probed her mouth with his tongue and felt himself stiffen. Her hands moved on his back, his shoulders, then she reached down and cupped him, rubbed her hand over him.
He broke the kiss. He didn't think about it.
"Maybe we should go in the bedroom."
"Maybe we should."
He kissed her again, on the mole on her lip. They moved together to the bed, stripped and stood naked.
Her breasts were firm, her nipples pink and erect, her abdomen flat with narrow hips. A fuzz of blond descended from her navel to the tangle between her legs. She grasped him in one hand and kissed him while she ran her other hand along his back. Her fingers traced over the scars. He picked her up and laid her across the bed.
She was wet. When he entered she sighed, raised her legs and pulled him deep inside. They moved together and he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight. Her skin was smooth, glistening with sweat. Her fingers dug into his arms. After a few minutes she suddenly moved faster, arched her back and let out a long, wild yell. Nick exploded inside her.
He slipped out of her and they lay next to each other. Gradually their breathing slowed to normal.
"Whew," he said.
Selena brushed hair back from her forehead, looked away. He felt her withdraw. She got up and turned her back toward him.
"I'm going to take a shower."
He lay on the bed, feeling awkward.
She went into the bathroom, closed the door. He heard the shower running. Nick remembered how it used to be with Megan.
"Do you think we'll still be lovers when we're old and gray?"
He'd stroked her hair, kissed her, run his hands over her body. They were tangled around each other in her big king sized bed, where they'd been all afternoon. Half-packed boxes were scattered around the room.
He'd kissed her breast.
"We'll never get old and gray."
"Not if you keep doing that."
"Like this?"
She'd gasped, reached for him.
"Yes, Nick, yes."
Megan, he thought. I couldn't stop it from happening. I couldn't will that plane back into the air. His thoughts turned bleak.
One day at a time.
When Selena came out, she dressed quickly. She went into the kitchen.
He pulled on Levis and a light shirt. They made breakfast in silence. They sat down at the table with fresh coffee.
She was pensive. "That mine was no fun."
He picked up his cup. "Hell of a way to get to know each other."
"You know something," she said.
"What?"
"I've heard that people who go through serious stress together jump into each other's arms." She paused. "I never felt so mort
al before. Nothing's the same. The moment seems more important now, everything seems more intense."
"I know. More alive."
"Even the colors are brighter. I'm glad I'm alive." She looked out the window, then over at him. "I'm glad I'm here with you."
She drank coffee. He didn't know what to say. She was an unknown force he hadn't expected. He couldn't think of something to say that wouldn't sound stupid.
Time to call in and see what was on Harker's mind. Maybe they'd found something at the house.
Chapter Nineteen
"No bodies. Lots of forensics." Harker said. "We've got casings, blood trails, tire impressions, prints and DNA from a wine bottle."
"Selena's and my prints are on that bottle."
"We know that. There are others. Where's the book?"
"In a safe here at my cabin."
"I want you two back here now. I've sent a plane to pick you up at Beale Air Force Base. You know where it is?"
"Yes. It's about an hour from here. When do we leave?"
"1800 hours. An escort will pick you up at your cabin at 1600 and take you to the base. Ronnie will meet you when you get in. It will be late. I want you to stay at the apartment here. We'll meet tomorrow at 0700."
The apartment at the Project building was for keeping out of sight. Carter had never had to use it.
"Anything more from the FBI?"
"Jordan sent over more photos. You can look at them when you get here. Wait for your transport. I'll see you in the morning."
She clicked off.
Selena gestured at the porch, past the screen door. "You have a cat?"
Pawing at the door and looking in through the screen was an enormous, beat-up orange tomcat.
"That's Burps. It's more like he has me. He's a different sort of cat. A neighbor feeds him when I'm away, which is most of the time."
The cat was part Maine Coon, part whatever. He weighed forty pounds at least and had a pair of cojones that would make many a larger animal proud. His ears were notched and scarred, pink scars marred his orange fur and his tail was half as long as it should be. He had one long, sharp front tooth. The other one was missing.
"Big, isn't he?"
"He's a regular tiger. Let's sit outside."
Carter opened two cans of cat food, put it in a dish and took it outside. Burps began chomping it down. They took a seat on the porch. The cat paused mid-chomp and gave out a loud belch.
"UUUURRRPP."
"Did he just do what I think he did?"
"That's why I call him Burps."
"He always does that?"
"All the time."
"I've never heard a cat burp. He's loud."
"Prime TV material. I'm thinking I'll get him on American Idol."
Burps belched again, finished his meal and wandered over to them. He began rubbing his head against Selena's leg and purring. It reminded Carter of a chain saw.
Selena stroked him behind the ears and Burps held up his paw and closed his eyes, arched his neck, purred louder and drooled through his tooth onto the deck.
"He's cute."
Cute wasn't how Carter would describe him, but who was he to argue? He told Selena what the Director had said.
"What did you do to that guy's wall?" he asked.
"Kuk Sool Won. It's a Korean martial art. I've been doing it since the tenth grade."
"What's your rank?"
"Seventh degree black."
"Remind me not to mess with you."
"I think you already did." She scratched Burps on top of his head. He jumped up in her lap and she grunted. He began kneading her leg. She grimaced.
"I've been thinking about the book. The language is archaic but the calligraphy is elegant and I can read it. Whoever copied it took his time, so that's not a problem. The problem is the section in Linear A. I need to compare what's in the book to other examples and to Linear B. We can read some of that variant."
"The Project has some big Cray computers. Steph can help you there."
"Steph?"
"Stephanie Willits. She's Harker's deputy and a genius with computers. We can scan the book into the system."
"That solves some problems. Once it's in the computers, we won't need to lug it around with us. We'd have access anywhere."
She took a sip from a glass of water.
"Tell me about Director Harker."
"She was part of the post nine eleven task force at Justice. She pissed off a lot of big shots by insisting it wouldn't have happened if the right hand had known what the left was doing. No one wanted to hear that, back then. It stalled her career. When Rice got elected he tapped her to head up the Project."
"What is the Project? You've got Crays, then you have resources. What do you do there?"
"It's the President's brainchild, a counterweight to the big intelligence agencies. Project is an acronym. Presidential Official Joint Exercise for Counter Terrorism. The joint part doesn't work too well, though, except for NSA. Harker's job is to cut through the smoke and mirrors tossed out by the big agencies and tell the President what's really going on. She's not afraid to speak her mind and she's a brilliant analyst. The three letter agencies don't like her. She answers only to the President, so they can't control her or tell her what to do. That doesn't stop them from trying."
"You're not an analyst."
"No. Ronnie and I get sent into the field to find things out. Sometimes to clean up messes that wouldn't have happened if CIA and the others had been doing their job."
"That's why you carry the gun?"
He looked out at the coastal range in the distance. The mountains formed blue ridges in the haze.
"Sometimes people shoot at us."
Selena put Burps down and stood up. He meowed loudly, gave her an insulted look and stalked off under the deck.
"Let's look at the book," she said.
They went inside and he got the book from the safe. At the kitchen table Selena began reading.
He got a kit out and began cleaning his pistol. He watched her turn the ancient pages. She was concentrating, the tip of her tongue exposed between her lips.
When Megan died he'd shut down any thoughts of letting someone get close again. Selena brought up old feelings, feelings he'd thought were dead and buried. He wasn't sure it was a good idea to bring those kinds of feelings back to life. He wasn't sure he wanted to let Selena in. You let someone in, it made you vulnerable. You weren't in control anymore.
Selena looked up.
"There's a list of some ingredients for an elixir of immortality, like cinnabar and gold. And there's a map to someplace in Tibet."
"Cinnabar?"
"That's what you make mercury from. Mercury was in a lot of the Chinese immortality formulas. It probably killed most of the people who took them. It might even have killed the Emperor. But China has known high grade deposits of cinnabar. They wouldn't care about that."
He held a bore light in the chamber of the .45, looked down the barrel.
"There's a reference to 'burning silver rocks' in the formula that I don't understand," she said.
He ran a cleaning brush through the bore.
She turned another page, studied it. "Do you think the Chinese government is behind this?"
"No. I think it's Yang acting on his own. Maybe he's just nuts, looking for an elixir of life."
Selena brushed hair back from her forehead and frowned.
"There has to be a rational purpose behind all this. I'll feel a lot better when we know what it is."
Carter watched her studying the text. She had retreated onto familiar ground, the expert linguist.
He'd had his share of beds but he'd never been a woman chaser. Besides, the Corps was hard on relationships. Then he'd met Megan and knew she was the one. It was a miracle to him that she'd felt the same way. When she died it left a hole inside him, big enough to pull him in and cover him up if he let it.
He'd plugged it with war. He was good at war, it was pretty much al
l he knew how to do. But making love with Selena had changed something. The hole was coming unplugged. It made him nervous, the feeling. It wasn't something he was used to.
Chapter Twenty
Harker sent a Gulfstream GIVSP to pick them up at Beale. It was a government executive model, all leather and luxury and wood inside the cabin. Five hours later, the lights of Washington stretched away off the port wing.
They stepped off the plane at Andrews. The air was hot and humid and smelled of jet fuel and diesel, with a hint of ripe garbage and stagnant water.
Ronnie was waiting. He wore another shirt from his Hawaiian collection, this one a hallucinogenic riot of purple, red and orange featuring waving palm trees in green and dancing Hula girls.
His black Hummer was parked inside the security zone barriers. On the way in Nick looked over at Selena, leaning back with her eyes closed. Maybe they'd ended up in bed because they'd been under fire together. Maybe it was the mine. Maybe it was karma. Whatever it was, he knew he'd better be careful about her.
At the Project building Ronnie went with them to the apartment.
"The Director said tell you when you got in there isn't anything can't wait for morning, so the two of you should make yourselves at home. There are two bedrooms for privacy."
Ronnie's expression gave no indication of what he might be thinking, which told Carter everything he was thinking.
"We meet with Harker at 0700. I'll see you then."
"Thanks, Ronnie."
"Hey, no problem. See you tomorrow."
He closed the door.
The living area where they stood was furnished with a hide-a-bed couch, lamp, coffee table and two chairs. A self contained kitchen unit featured a sink, burners and small fridge. The overhead lighting was uninspired, the carpeting a faded blue government industrial. The bedrooms had twin beds.
Selena turned to him.
"I think he knows we slept together."
"You picked up on that. There's no law says we ought to hide it."
He looked at her and wanted her. He stiffened. She saw it.
"Nick." She was tense. "I can't do this right now. Have sex, I mean. Part of me wants to, but it's too much, everything is moving too fast."
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