CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
October 14—6:07 P.M.
Pikes Peak National Forest
“You will get on your knees,” Sumit said. He pointed her gun in Alex’s direction.
Eleazar arrived at the cabin with two machine-gun welding guards. After making certain Alex’s hands were handcuffed, Eleazar punched her to the ground. Alex lay face down on the ground with Eleazar’s Gucci shoe on her back. Sumit gave an embellished report on the valiant efforts of the men and Alex’s trickery. He exaggerated her easy capture. Eleazar laughed at Sumit’s elaborate description of “raping the infidel.”
Alex bided her time. She had heard Trece’s whistle about ten minutes before Eleazar arrived. Her friends were close. They would intervene when she gave them the signal or when they knew she was in danger. Right now, she was listening.
“Alex.” Jesse’s face materialized next to hers. “We still don’t know about Sumit.”
Eleazar mashed his foot against the wound on her left arm.
“I don’t like him.”
Alex blinked to indicate that she understood.
With his hands clamped around the knife wound, Eleazar pulled Alex to standing. She wobbled on sore, battered legs and knocked into Eleazar. He stepped back to keep from falling. His guard slapped Alex’s face but caught the edge of the niqab instead. The scarf and head covering slipped from her head. Sumit moved forward, pressing himself between the guard and Alex, to replace the niqab.
Eleazar sneered at Alex.
As a way of displaying her submission, she bowed her head. Covered in scarves, Alex smirked. For a year and a half, this tiny man, at least five inches shorter than Alex, had terrified her. Peering at him from her submissive gestures, she felt a cloud move away. Eleazar was merely a little man behind a green curtain. She had survived his dangerous parlor tricks and games. She would survive him today.
Sumit and the guards were another story.
“What do you want from me?” Alex asked.
Eleazar hit her across the face. “Insolent woman. How dare you speak to me?”
Alex closed her eyes for a moment. Her tongue ran across her teeth. Nothing loose. She would have spit at him, but the niqab covered her mouth. She swallowed the blood that pooled into her mouth.
“What is this?” Eleazar asked, holding up a Zippo lighter.
Sumit pressed the muzzle of her handgun to the back of her head.
“You will answer when spoken to.”
“It’s a lighter,” Alex said.
“How does it work?” Eleazar asked.
“Unlock me, and I’ll show you,” Alex said.
She returned to her submissive stance. She felt Eleazar’s eyes scour her skull. Her only chance was if Eleazar believed that he could control her. When she felt Sumit unlock the handcuffs, she knew that she had won the first battle of deception. Rubbing her wrists, she moved the Mini-tool to a more accessible position.
With her eyes lowered, she held her hand out for the lighter. Eleazar dropped the Zippo into her hand. Flipping the hinge top off the Zippo, she flicked the round thumbwheel a couple times without success. She shook the lighter to see if it had fuel.
“I cannot work it with gloves on.”
“You may remove them, my dear,” Eleazar purred. “I’m certain you are tired. Please sit down.”
She set the lighter on the edge of the small Formica table. Pulling on one finger at a time, Alex moved the unnoticed Mini-tool toward her palm. She moved in slow, deliberate movements, working to keep the Mini-tool from falling onto the floor. She dropped the glove, with its hidden prize, onto her lap and picked up the lighter.
Turning the lighter over, she said, “I wondered where this was.”
“My associate took it from you after he shot you.”
“How did he manage that with my bullet in his brain?” she asked.
Eleazar’s hired gun raised his hand to hit her, but Eleazar raised his hand to stop him.
“You remember?”
“I remember,” she said.
She flicked the lighter but was unable to get a flame. Something nagged at the back of her mind. Jesse appeared behind Eleazar.
“Your lighter is broken,” Jesse said. “You broke it a couple of days before we were shot.”
Alex shrugged, “The lighter’s broken.”
“I am aware of that,” Eleazar said.
“How can I help?” Alex asked, bowing her head in mock submission.
“It is my understanding that this item controls an area where my property is stored.”
Alex was confused.
What is he saying?
She felt movement in the room and peeked out above the niqab. Eleazar motioned the men away from them. Sitting down across from her at the table, he changed his tack.
“Listen, Alexandra, all I want is my property. It’s nothing personal. Over the last months, we’ve become such good friends. I know that you want to give me what I need.” His voice was kind and loving.
Alex nodded.
Here we go. He’s trying to control me. Fucker.
“How can I help?” she asked.
“That’s the spirit. Good girl.”
Eleazar’s voice was like a caress. His hand reached across the table to hold her gloved left hand.
Alex forced herself not to show her revulsion to him. She was grateful for the robes and niqab, for they covered her automatic responses.
No wonder some women love wearing these things.
Alex blinked.
“I wonder how your mother is doing,” Alex said.
Eleazar’s hand jerked up.
“She’s in the custody of the King of Jordan.” Alex gauged her voice for neutral, keeping her eyes on the lighter.
What had she done to this lighter? Something specific. She remembered that.
“My mother is dead,” he said. He stared at her bowed head.
“Not yet,” Alex said. “But execution by hanging is automatic for terrorists in Jordan. Your children, however . . .”
Eleazar reached across the table. Grabbing Alex’s shoulders, he shook her with force. She looked him in the eye.
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
“Maybe you should call.”
Speaking in rapid Arabic, Eleazar requested a cell phone from one of the men. They informed him that their phones did not receive cell service in this area.
“We can get service in the clearing in the back,” Sumit said.
Alex slipped the Mini-tool, up the left sleeve of the abaya and pulled the right glove onto her hand. She reached for the lighter, but Eleazar snatched it from her hand.
“This is mine,” he said.
She blinked. Feeling the muzzle of a machine-gun in her back, she stood. The guards pushed her out of the cabin. She stumbled, falling face first onto the ground, and the guards began kicking her. In the dust and flying pine needles, she slipped the Mini-tool into the palm of her hand.
“That’s enough,” Eleazar said. “We don’t want to kill her yet.”
By the time they pulled her to her feet again, she had opened the steel arms of the Mini-tool, exposing the needle-nosed pliers. She heard Trece’s bird whistle, asking if they should respond. She shook her head slightly.
“On your knees.” Sumit pushed her to the ground.
Falling to her knees, she knew she was going to die. Sumit was going execute her in this clearing. Her life was over.
Letting out a breath, she longed for a kiss from John, a hug from Matthew, a chance to listen to Trece’s verbal diarrhea, an argument with Troy, a smoke-filled conversation with Ben, a sweaty workout with the White Boy, a rolling of her eyes at her mother, a strategy session with her father, a shot of whiskey with Colin, a chance to hear Erin laugh, another moment nestled in Raz’s safe arms, a shopping trip with Samantha, and, more than anything, she longed for Max. Then, like a short life, the longing was gone. She resigned herself to her fate.
Bowing her head, she made the
sign of the cross and began to pray the rosary.
Eleazar stood with his back to her. He spoke in forceful Arabic into a cell phone. He became angrier as the conversation progressed. Turning around, almost spinning in place, he nodded to Sumit.
Sumit cocked her handgun.
Alex closed her eyes and waited for the bullet.
Sumit pulled the trigger.
Thwook.
An arrow shot Sumit through the shoulder, rotating his shoulder back. The gunshot went wild.
Startled, the guards looked around for the shooter.
Eleazar screamed, “Kill her.”
The men raised their machine guns, clicked off the safety, but never got a shot off. They fell forward with arrows through their hearts.
Silence. A slight wind blew a tree limb to creak against another limb. Eleazar’s head jerked toward the sound. Sumit pulled the arrow from his shoulder and moved back to Alex. Eleazar stood looking around him.
Rotating out the knife of the Mini-tool, Alex popped to standing. In two quick steps, she held the knife against Eleazar’s throat.
“You don’t want to do that.” Eleazar used the voice he was certain controlled Alex.
“Yeah, you know, I really do.” Alex scratched the sharp knife against his throat. A bead of blood dropped to the collar of his expensive suit. “That’s going to stain.”
Blood covered Sumit’s right arm. His left hand held her handgun. He fired in Alex’s general direction before another arrow shot him through the left shoulder. Screaming, he fell backwards. Alex’s handgun flew from his hand.
They heard the sound of someone walking toward the clearing. Zack Jakkman appeared through the trees. He picked up Alex’s handgun. Clicking open the magazine, he checked for bullets and cocked the gun.
“Oh. I just realized that you don’t know who I am,” Zack said to Eleazar. Holding his right hand out as if he were going to shake Eleazar’s hand, he said. “Hi. I’m Captain Zack Jakkman. They call me the Jakker.”
Eleazar jerked with surprise, “That is impossible.”
“You’re the one who thinks that friends are such a big deal.” Zack shrugged.
“You’re not going to kill me, Alexandra. You can let me go now.” Eleazar continued to work on Alex’s mind.
“No, she won’t kill you.” Max stepped into the clearing with a compound bow. “But I’d be happy to.”
“You’re dead,” Eleazar said.
“As dead as I am,” Joseph Walter said, as he walked to Sumit. He placed his foot on Sumit’s chest. “Just stay there, asshole.”
“John Drayson or, sorry, I mean, John Kelly, would be here.” Troy melted from the trees with a compound bow in his hands. “But he’s with his PIRA family in Scotland. The people on the phone would be very happy to know that. Go ahead.”
Eleazar raised the cell phone to his ear and then held the phone out to Max.
“This is Max Hargreaves,” Max said in Irish Gaelic. “Yes, thank you. We have him. Thank you for your help.” Max laughed. He looked up at Eleazar and added, “Did you decide whether they should kill your oldest son or the baby?”
Eleazar let out a stream of curses.
“Yes, that’s correct. John Kelly is in Scotland. Yes, she will phone you as soon as she’s free,” Max said, continuing in Gaelic. Max closed the phone. Looking at Eleazar, he said, “You must have realized that the PIRA takes care of their own. They will turn your family over to the UN Security forces.”
Trece and the White Boy appeared from the pine grove to stand beside Alex.
“You can let him go,” Trece said.
Alex turned her head to whisper in Eleazar’s ear, “You’d have to have friends to be able to control me with the idea of friends.”
As if he were a snake ready to strike, Eleazar wound back.
“Patrick Hargreaves is not your father.”
Alex laughed, kissed his cheek, and let go of him. Turning away from him, she beamed and held her arms out to Max.
In one fluid movement, Eleazar pulled a small handgun from the pocket of his pants. He fired at Alex.
Trece’s hands went around Eleazar’s chin and broke his neck. He tossed Eleazar’s body to the ground.
Alex coughed, working for breath, then fell onto her back to the pine-needles carpet.
Everyone moved at once.
Max dropped to the ground to hold Alex’s head. Seeing his face, she reached her hand out for him. Matthew moved her robes to find the injury. Finding her naked under the robes, Matthew slipped off his jacket to cover her hips.
“I’m a doctor,” Sumit said.
“Shut the fuck up,” Joseph said.
“He’s . . . a . . . doctor.” Alex pushed one word out at a time.
The White Boy lifted Sumit to standing and pushed him over to Alex.
“She has a punctured lung,” he said. “There is plastic wrap in the kitchen of the cabin. It will help. I assume the helicopter is near. We heard a helicopter a half hour ago.”
“I’ll get it,” Zack said. “Raz is entertaining your handler at the helicopter. He wanted to be here, but we wanted to kill you.”
Matthew ran from the cabin with a roll of plastic wrap. Tearing a strip, he placed the wrap over the bullet wound. Max helped her sit up, and Matthew placed a piece of saran wrap at her back.
“You have to leave a space for the air to get out,” Sumit said, pointing to Alex’s ribs. Matthew shifted the piece of saran wrap.
Alex worked to catch her breath. When she was able to breathe, she began to laugh.
“How did you . . . ?” she asked.
“We saw the signal, the sign of the cross, but Max fired before you made the sign,” Trece said.
Alex shook her head and looked at Max.
“Tom Drayson called Ben. You were right. They know each other. John had a dream that you were shot by that guy in this clearing. John was so adamant that you were going to die that Tom thought he should call.”
“Nothing that an arrow can’t fix?” she laughed.
“Nothing that a friend can’t fix,” Trece said. “Homeland’s on the way to clean up this mess. We’ll leave that kid here. You know—the G.I. Joe kid? He’s in the chopper.”
Alex made a face.
“Don’t ask,” Troy said, “or you’ll find out that he’s assigned to us.”
“Does she need a stretcher, prick?” Trece asked
“I do.” Sumit dropped to the ground.
With Max at her head and Matthew holding her hand, Alex knew for the first time in a very long time that everything was going to be all right.
F
The Fey Page 39