Hard Asset

by Pamela Clare

  Her question stung. He had made a career out of killing. Dealing out death—very selectively and with perfect precision—was part of his job description.

  This isn’t about you, dumbass.

  He ran his thumb over her knuckles. “You’re not a hypocrite. Every living thing wants to survive, Shanti. What you’re feeling—the relief that they’re dead and you’re not—is normal.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  “I know so.” He’d felt that emotion more times than he could count. “It’s normal, too, to feel some conflict. No one wants to kill. But you’re not responsible for those men’s deaths. I am. Or Naing is—with my help. Naing arranged to have our guys, Hatch and Davis, murdered and you abducted. He mobilized his army. He gave the orders, and they earned their paychecks by following those orders. They wouldn’t have hesitated for a moment to kill either of us. In fact, they came close to doing just that.”

  She lifted her gaze to his. “I wouldn’t be alive right now if not for you, Connor. I don’t even know how to thank you. What you’ve done for me, risking your life and killing to keep me safe… It must be hard to carry the weight of their deaths, of killing. I think now maybe I understand what you mean by re-entry.”

  What was she trying to say? Did she believe he’d made some heavy personal sacrifice killing those men today? Was she implying he should feel bad about what he’d done? He didn’t. It had come as naturally to him as breathing.

  She didn’t understand anything about his life.

  “Don’t worry about me. I don’t feel bad about killing someone who’s trying to kill me or one of my clients. That’s my job. I kill when I have no other choice, and I get paid to do it.” Done with this conversation, he reached for his backpack and pulled out the bivy sack. “It’s time to get some shut-eye.”

  17

  Shanti woke from the oblivion of sleep to find herself using Connor’s lap for a pillow. She didn’t even remember falling asleep.

  He rested a hand on her shoulder. “It’s time to get moving.”

  “Good morning.” She sat up. “Did you sleep?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I would give anything for tea.”

  “Looks like we’ve got ‘Orange Beverage Powder, Carb-Fortified.’”

  “Lovely.”

  He set out their breakfast of peanut rolls, M&Ms, and fresh mangoes without speaking, a cheerless expression on his face, his jaw dark with stubble.

  At first, Shanti was too groggy to think much of it, but when he began to pack up without a word, she began to wonder if he was okay.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “You mean apart from being chased through Myanmar by the Tatmadaw?”

  Okay, that was a more sarcastic answer than she’d expected.

  She wiped her face and hands on a towelette, got her handbag ready to go while he took down one of the squares of space blanket and crawled to the front of the plane. He seemed to be searching for something, even moving bones.

  “Sorry to disturb you, guys.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Looking for dog tags. Three families back in the UK never found out what happened to their loved ones. I might be able to bring them closure.”

  Shanti’s heart melted. “That’s wonderful.”

  “These guys gave their lives for us. The least we can do is let their families know where they are. The British government might be able to repatriate their remains.”

  Ten minutes later, they’d left the crashed plane behind. The sun was just rising, the forest still quiet and dark.

  “I need to find a break in the canopy to check in.”

  They came to a rocky rise, a valley of dark treetops stretching to the horizon, clouds sitting thick and low. In the distance, Shanti saw what looked like water.

  “Is that the Bay of Bengal?” They were getting closer.

  But Connor had taken out his sat phone. “Cobra, O’Neal here. Do you have the GPS coordinates of the location where we camped for the night? Tag that spot. Pass the coordinates to British intelligence along with this flight number.”

  He gave them a number he’d memorized. “It’s a Blenheim. Yeah, seriously. There were three men on board when it went down. I’ve got two sets of dog tags. I couldn’t find the third. The names are … McWilliams and … Leighton.”

  From her end, the conversation after that was just a lot of “copy that” and “good copy” and “strong copy, Cobra.”

  Then the sun’s first rays stretched out from the east, spilling out over the clouds to reveal a landscape that took Shanti’s breath away. Golden pagodas rose above the forest canopy. There were dozens of them, gilded finials pointing to the heavens.

  Connor ended the call. “Naing’s army is about to saturate this area. We need to move—and fast. Last night’s deluge will have destroyed our scent track, so they won’t use dogs unless they have some idea where we are. Cobra has a fishing boat sitting in the river just across the border, waiting for us. The goal is to reach them by tomorrow night.”

  “Look.” Shanti pointed. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

  Connor glanced at the scenery. “Let’s move.”

  She knew their situation was serious, but he didn’t have to be cold. “Are you upset about something?”

  “Why do you think I’m upset?”

  If he thought he was going to derail Shanti’s line of questioning with that trick, he was sadly mistaken. “That is not a denial.”

  “Lawyers.” He stopped, turned to face her. “This is going to be the most dangerous part of our journey. The monsoon forest will eventually turn into fields, and we’ll lose our cover. Speed is survival, so there’s no time for pointless talk.”

  There was a hard edge to his voice, his blue eyes cold like slate.

  Shanti stared at him, stung by what felt like a rebuke. “Pointless talk? I asked because I care about you.”

  “Care about getting home alive.” He turned and walked away.

  She fell in behind him. “I do!”

  Then their conversation last night came back to her.

  I don’t feel bad about killing someone who’s trying to kill me or one of my clients. That’s my job. I kill when I have no choice, and I get paid to do it.

  She’d noticed the change in his demeanor then, but she’d been too exhausted to make anything of it.

  “I’m sorry if something I said last night hurt or upset you.”

  He said nothing but kept moving.

  “So, now you’re just going to clam up? Fine.”

  Don’t worry about it now.

  Fifty miles.

  Only fifty miles to the border, and then…

  She would fly back to The Hague, and he would head off to some other part of the world on another assignment. Life would return to normal.

  But it wouldn’t.

  After this—after Connor—nothing would be normal again.

  Connor pushed ahead, trying to decide what made him hate himself more—the fact that he’d crossed a line and had sex with a client or the fact that he’d hurt her just now. She had reacted to his words as if he’d slapped her, staring up at him through wide amber eyes.

  Son of a bitch!

  If he’d kept his hands to himself and his dick in his pants, they wouldn’t be in this situation. Having sex with her had opened them both to emotions that had no place in the here and now. They were in a survival situation, for God’s sake.

  I wouldn’t be alive right now if not for you, Connor. I don’t even know how to thank you. What you’ve done for me, risking your life and killing to keep me safe… It must be hard to carry the weight of their deaths, of killing.

  Did she think he could have served in the Unit for a decade if he felt guilty about pulling the trigger? Why should he feel guilty for doing his job?

  You do feel guilty—about the boy.

  Connor thrust that thought aside. This was about Shanti, not Syria. It was about boundaries, doing his job, maintaini
ng a professional distance from a client.

  Even as he told himself this, he knew it wasn’t true. Some part of him had felt judged by her last night, and yet, she hadn’t meant it that way at all. She hadn’t said anything negative. She’d been trying to thank him and work through her feelings about what she’d seen. Instead of trying to understand, he’d shut her down.

  You’ve been a dick.

  He stopped, exhaled, turned to face her. “I’m not upset with you. You didn’t do or say anything wrong. You’ve done everything I’ve asked you to do. Got that?”

  Apparently, he’d gone out of his mind because, in the next instant, he slid his hand into her hair, ducked down, and kissed her. It was just a brief touching of lips, but it centered him again, smoothed his rough edges. He found himself looking into her eyes, saw that she was confused by this.

  So was he.

  What the fuck? “Okay, then.”

  Yeah, you set her straight, man.

  “O-okay.” She was fighting not to smile.

  He moved on, leaving her to follow.

  The buzz of helicopters began as soon as the sun was up, the birds moving over the forest about twenty klicks south of them. Connor could only hope that he and Shanti had covered enough ground last night to stay ahead of Naing’s men.

  If not…

  He pushed Shanti as hard as he could, heading down into a forested valley full of golden pagodas and Buddha statues, each statue sitting serenely on a stone plinth surrounded by bamboo and teak trees.

  “I wonder who put these here,” Shanti said, breathing hard.

  “Maybe they had a sale on Buddhas—buy one, get fifty free.”

  He stopped just after noon to eat and rest, giving them both more calories than he usually did, hoping to help Shanti keep her energy up. Starvation diets didn’t mix well with extreme exertion.

  Shanti looked up. “The helicopters are getting closer.”

  “They’ll be on top of us soon.” Connor had already taken out his rain poncho to use for concealment. “But you’re a pro at this now.”

  She shook her head, lines of worry on her face. “Hardly.”

  “You’re handling the stress and deprivation better than most people would.”

  How could she be sweaty and exhausted and still look beautiful to him?

  She wiped mango juice off her fingers with a towelette and changed the subject. “Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”

  “That’s out of the blue.” When people asked questions like that, they usually had a reason. He answered her, addressing both her question and what he assumed was her motivation for asking. “The work I do isn’t compatible with relationships. Most guys in special forces are divorced, some of them more than once.”

  “But not you.”

  “I lived with a woman once. I thought it was the real thing. My unit had a tough deployment, lost a couple of men. I came home pretty messed up by it. Mandy threw me out three weeks later—and, no, I didn’t hit her or hurt her. I just couldn’t get back into the swing of normal life and drank too much.”

  “I’m sorry. It doesn’t sound like she was very sympathetic. You were grieving.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So, because of her, you avoid women?”

  “Unless I’m stuck in the jungle with them.” He couldn’t help but grin at Shanti’s surprised reaction. “I don’t avoid women. I love women. I avoid anything … serious. That way, no one gets hurt.”

  “You just keep it casual.” Was that a note of disapproval in her voice?

  “That’s right.” He supposed it was a good thing to get out in the open, given that they’d had sex. He didn’t want to hurt her or mislead her. “These guys you date, the ones who don’t make you come—have you ever gotten serious with one of them?”

  “No, not really.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I just didn’t feel it.”

  “Feel what?”

  She looked away as if searching for the right words, then met his gaze. “Fireworks. Passion. Excitement.”

  Connor felt a punch of lust. Was she saying she felt those things with him?

  That revelation ought to have rung his alarm bells. But all he could think about was how much he would love to give her some fireworks right now, maybe bend her over and fuck her from behind.

  Not here. Not now.

  Not with enemy helicopters and an army beating down on them.

  He shouldered his pack, stood, drew her to her feet. “Like I said, you’ve been dating the wrong guys.”

  A rustling behind him brought him around, rifle raised. “Shanti, get down!”

  Standing not thirty feet away from them was a bald man in maroon robes.

  The man smiled. “How good for you that I have found you.”

  Shanti looked up, expecting to see Connor talking to a soldier. But the man who stood there was no soldier. “I think he’s a monk.”

  The man pressed his palms together in a gesture of greeting. “Welcome. I am Ashin Dempo, and I am, as you say, a monk. But I fear you are in danger. I offer you shelter and a place to hide. I have no weapons.”

  Connor didn’t lower the rifle, but that didn’t seem to bother Dempo. “How do you know soldiers are looking for us?”

  “They are looking for two people, two Americans—one a male who is armed and very dangerous and the other a young female. But we must be quick.”

  Shanti shook her head. “A lot of Buddhist monks are in league with the military. Some have even fueled the genocide here.”

  Dempo’s smile faded. “This is sadly true, but I am not among them. I spent four years at hard labor in a government prison after the Saffron Revolution and then lived in exile in Thailand before returning under an amnesty. I stand for peace.”

  “Where did you come from? You weren’t here a moment ago.”

  “Long before these troubled times, the monks at our monastery used caves to build a system of tunnels. Many empires have ruled over us, and there have been many wars. These tunnels have kept us safe. I can hide you, give you clean water, food, and a place to rest while this storm passes.”

  Overhead, the beating of helicopter rotors drew nearer.

  “Why would you help us?” Connor still hadn’t lowered his rifle. “Wouldn’t that put you and your monastery at risk?”

  “If we are discovered, yes, but doing the right thing in such hateful times is never without risk. You know this, Ms. Lahiri.”

  Alarm shot through Shanti to hear a stranger speak her name, but before she could say a word, Connor stepped forward, rifle still raised, fury on his face. “How do you know who she is?”

  “Even we monks watch the news. I listen to the BBC. It is widely reported by your news media that she was abducted and crashed in my country. But come. Let us take shelter in the tunnels. Otherwise, I fear you will be found by men more menacing than I.”

  Shanti’s pulse pounded in her ears, the helicopter almost on top of them now.

  She could tell Connor didn’t trust Dempo, his expression unyielding. She didn’t trust him either. What was to stop him from taking them prisoner himself and turning them over to Naing for favors or a reward for the monastery?

  “Go.” Connor glanced upward. “We’ll follow.”

  Dempo turned and hurried through the trees to a rock outcropping, Shanti and Connor behind him, Connor still holding his rifle at the ready.

  Then Dempo disappeared.

  Connor glanced back. “Hurry, Shanti!”

  He ducked between two rocks, Shanti close behind him just as the helicopter flew overhead. She found herself in the mouth of a narrow cave, a gate of iron bars propped open with a rock.

  “They cannot see you here.” Dempo gestured around him. “These tunnels are unknown to all but the most trusted monks. We rarely use them.”

  He bent down, moved the rock, and started to close the gate, an old, rusty padlock hanging from one of the iron bars.

  “Whoa, wait a minute. You are not locking us in.”
Connor still hadn’t lowered his rifle. “Shanti, take the padlock.”

  “Yes, of course. Please, take it—and the key.” Dempo held it out to her, seeming unruffled by their mistrust. “This door is kept locked to keep out predators. No one wants a leopard joining us for meditation.”

  Connor lowered the rifle at last. “How many entrances do these tunnels have?”

  “Five.” Dempo reached into his robes, pulled out a smartphone. “All but this one are locked, and all are well hidden.”

  He turned on the phone’s flashlight. “There’s no signal down here, but the light comes in very handy.”

  Off he walked, chuckling to himself.

  Shanti looked over at Connor. “Do you trust him?”

  “Hell, no.”

  “Why did you follow him then? We could have taken cover out there.”

  “And risk being blind under my rain poncho while he waves the helicopter down with those red robes of his? No, thanks. He knows who you are. I need to know why. If he’s telling the truth, he could really help us out. If he isn’t… Stay close to me.”

  “You think I’m going to run off on my own in here?”

  Connor grinned. “You’ve got a smart mouth, princess.”

  18

  Shanti followed Connor and the monk through the cave, its jagged, rocky walls eventually giving way to smooth surfaces. “This must be the part the monks built.”

  “Yes, yes.” Dempo stopped, raised his phone so they could see paintings, colors of ochre and saffron and royal blue swirling together to depict fanged supernatural creatures, scenes of skulls and destruction, and images of Buddha attaining enlightenment. “These were painted by monks in the light of butter lamps hundreds of years ago.”

  Shanti took it all in. “Amazing. They’ve painted a different world.”

  “Or a metaphor for the brutality of our world.” He moved on. “I was a soldier once. The army came to my family’s village, and I was conscripted as a child. I’ve held a rifle in my hand, and I have killed those I was told were my enemies.”