This time, the smiled response was from Jaime. “It’s not always boring to be a grown woman,” she said, and she winked. “Take my word for it.”
January 27, 2007, 6:30 p.m.
(8 hours since end of auction)
Ben-Gurion Airport, Tel Aviv
Israel
* * *
By early evening, Jaime and Yani had dropped Operative 2 at a safe house in Tel Aviv and returned to the airport for the flight back to Aéroport de Paris–Le Bourget to be debriefed. Their ground crew at Ben-Gurion Airport was preparing their plane for takeoff when Yani strode across the tarmac carrying an English-language newspaper.
“Seen the headlines?” he asked Jaime.
Jaime took the paper, expecting to see more write-ups on Andrea’s exploits in Davos. Which there were–but they had fallen below the fold.
Instead, at the top of the paper were photos of Shepard, his home in Lac-Argent, Derrick–and Jaime. “It seems the mystery woman has been identified,” Yani said.
“Shit,” said Jaime.
“It’s all right,” Yani said. “The article says you were treated and released.”
“Not kidnapped?”
“No. There’s only so much gardeners can do–but we can usually do something.”
“So, I’m not wanted for questioning by the local authorities? Or the international authorities?”
“Not by the authorities. But popular media outlets–there I’d say you’re the number one quarry at the moment.”
“That probably means the Army’s looking for me, too–at least the Public Affairs Office. I’m almost afraid to turn on my BlackBerry.”
But she did.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “The Army’s been told you’re going to drop out of sight for the remainder of your leave, and when you resurface, you’ll talk to our friends at PAO, first thing.”
Meanwhile, her e-mail had come up. “I’ve got an e-mail from my boss,” she said, and opened it–then started laughing.
“You’re not going to share?” Yani asked.
She read: “‘Jaime, for some reason I had the camera on my cell phone ready when someone showed the newspaper photo of you and Shepard to Lieutenant Colonel Jenkins. Thought you’d enjoy the result. See you back. CH Sherer.’”
Still laughing, she showed Yani the photo of a very shocked Jenkins.
But she sobered quickly.
“There is one call I have to make,” she said.
“I know,” Yani said. “Use the secure line. It’s not Operative business, but we can’t have you traced.” He was in Op 1 mode.
“Thanks,” she said, and went into the far reaches of the private hangar and dialed Mark Shepard’s private cell phone.
Mark’s phone was answered by an assistant. “Who’s calling?” was all he said.
“It’s Jaime Richards,” she said. “I was–”
“Hang on,” was the reply. Jaime waited for several minutes before the same voice came back on. “What did you have for dinner on Thursday night?” he asked.
“Trout amandine,” she said. “And root vegetables.”
The phone was handed over, and the next voice was Mark’s.
“Jaime? My God!”
“Mark, are you all right? Are you still in the hospital?”
“Yes, I’m still in the hospital. Apparently I’ll be here for another couple of days. But I’m starting to wean off the morphine drip. Never going back there–but it’s kind of nice when it’s legal.”
“And Derrick, I can’t believe it. I’m still in shock.”
“I am, too. Awful thing.” He paused a moment before blurting, “For God’s sake, what happened to you? First they tell me you’re kidnapped, your blood is all over the house, next thing I know, they’re saying you’re fine, you were treated for some mysterious injuries at some mysterious place and released–but they won’t tell me where, or let me talk to you. Where the hell are you? Are you all right?”
“I’m okay. There are reasons the whole story can’t come out just yet, so please don’t repeat this.” And Jaime told him as much as she could, including the fact that Frank was dead. “I’ve got to disappear now, until the end of my leave, so that the press doesn’t find me,” Jaime said. “But Mark, I still need you to be my friend. A friend of my heart.”
“Of course.” The words were spoken carefully. There was a beat. “So are you telling me it’s best if we’re not involved romantically?”
“There isn’t a woman in the world who wouldn’t be thrilled to be involved with you romantically. Including me. Seriously.” Jaime cleared her throat, knowing she had to be honest, but it was not easy. “I know this is going to sound strange, since I just saw you day before yesterday. But back then, someone in my life I thought was gone forever was…gone. And now he’s back.” She took a gulp of air. “And I’ve married him.”
“You’ve what?”
“I’ve married him. The thing is–I think if Paul met him, he’d approve. And I think you’d approve. I’d really like you to meet him. On Thursday when you talked about what a rare thing our friendship is and you didn’t want anything to ruin that–well, I agree ten thousand percent. You’re a part of me. A part of my past. And, God willing, of my future.”
There was silence on the other end. Jaime closed her eyes and grimaced.
“What are you thinking?” she finally asked.
“I’m thinking, every now and then it’s good for the rock star part of me to be put in my place,” he said.
“Oh, Mark, no–” she said, but he interrupted.
“And–that it’s probably a good thing we didn’t go farther than we did. That would have complicated things.”
Jaime replied, “It’s really hard to be you, to carry off all you do, and I know that. I admire it so much. I believe in everything you’re doing. It’s so important. We’re on the same mission. And I’d feel honored to be counted among your comrades in arms.”
“You’re there, Jaime. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she said.
“So, when do I get to meet this guy?”
“Well, thanks to your international celebrity, I can’t get near you for a while. But as soon as I get out of Iraq again–I’ll find you.”
“Hey. Speaking of my celebrity, the one good thing that’s come out of all this…”
“Yeah?”
“Since the press can’t get to me, apparently they’re crawling all over Lac-Argent. Which we’re completely set up for. They’re getting tours of the vineyards, the farms, the wind farms, the whole sustainable outfit. It’s getting press even I could never arrange for.”
“That is one good thing,” Jaime agreed.
“Safe journey, Jaime.”
“You, too, Mark. Godspeed, until we meet again.”
She pressed the button to disconnect, and looked up to see Yani watching her from across the hangar. The plane was out on the runway, apparently ready to go.
She sat for one moment more, and then gathered herself together, got up, and walked toward Yani.
“So,” he said, as they both headed out for the airplane to France.
“So?”
“As you pointed out, we’re not yet legally married anywhere in the Terris world,” Yani said, looking straight ahead. “Care to make a different choice?”
“So…if I decide to take your name as my married name, what am I called? Jaime 23?”
She didn’t look over, but she knew he was grinning.
EPILOGUE:
SUNDAY
January 28, 2007, 8:30 p.m.
Yacht Chronos
Gulf waters off Qatar
* * *
Jaime stood, still radiating with amazement at being alive, in the yacht’s private dining room. It was an interior compartment, so there were no outside windows. The walls were lined with books, old editions, and there was a self-contained fireplace. It had the feel of an old-world library. She was the first to arrive, and she gave in to the temptat
ion to pull out a copy of The Misanthrope and carefully leaf through the brittle pages.
As she was replacing the volume, the dining room door opened and a slender woman walked in. Jaime was thrilled to find it was Andrea Farmer.
“Andrea! I’m so glad you’re here safely!” she said.
“I had no idea you were going back so soon!” Andrea responded, and the two women embraced–albeit a bit gingerly on Jaime’s side.
“For a short visit,” Jaime explained.
In fact, everything about Jaime’s upcoming visit to Eden was unusual. TC2 had made special arrangements to allow Jaime to join the group for this door opening–and to allow her to return in a week and a half, in time to report back for duty from her mid-tour leave.
TC2 had made her promise she would return. Jaime had promised–although she knew going from Eden to Iraq would not be an easy transition. TC2 had known that also and had tantalized Jaime with the pendant from Clement that already held her next “juicy” assignment.
The dining room door opened again, and they were joined by two other Operatives Jaime hadn’t met, one man, one woman. They each seemed capable yet approachable, physically fit, and mid-fortyish. As they were Eden Operatives, Jaime had no idea of their actual age.
The four of them stood by the fire companionably.
They didn’t have long to wait.
When the door opened again, they all turned expectantly.
And in walked two strapping, tall men. They were mid-conversation, and they were laughing.
They were Sword 31, who was overseeing this door opening–and the legendary Sword 23. Jaime saw Andrea gasp.
“Welcome, everyone,” said Sword 31. He was perhaps an inch taller than Yani, with sand-colored skin and thick brown hair. But he had nowhere near Sword 23’s charisma–or so it seemed to Jaime. “Let’s all have a seat, shall we?”
The rectangular table in the middle of the room was masterfully hand carved from olive wood. There were six matching chairs, each intricately worked with a lion climbing the tallest point of each.
The unknown man and woman sat together on one long side of the table, and Andrea joined Jaime on the opposite side. Jaime dared a quick look in the direction of Yani–Sword 23–and was relieved to find he’d chosen the seat at the end of the table, next to her seat.
Jaime didn’t dare look at Yani directly. His presence had captured her already, and simply having him in such physical proximity heightened all her senses and revved the blood flow from her heart into high. Even after only hours apart, she was overwhelmed by who he was, what they were to each other, and what he could do to her body–apparently, without even touching it. It was unnerving.
In a wonderful way.
“This is an exceptional door opening,” spoke Sword 31. “And not only because everyone gathered here is an Operative, although that does mean we can have a sea start. It also means we may speak more freely.”
All eyes were on him. “For one thing,” he said, “I feel honored to have Sword 23 in our company today. Although he’s now chosen to work as an Operative, he meant a great deal to me in my own training as a Sword.”
The other Operatives all turned toward Yani, relieved to have permission to look directly at him. It felt as though they’d like to applaud but settled for a more dignified nod of the head.
“It’s good to see each of you again,” Yani said simply, “and to meet Dr. Farmer.”
Sword 31 gathered their attention again by saying, “You’re each here at the successful completion of an assignment. For that I congratulate and thank you on behalf of all the gardeners, and those on whose behalf you intervened.” They took a moment to acknowledge one another before turning back to Sword 31.
At the head of the table, he continued, “Sword 23 has two particular pieces of good news, which you will undoubtedly hear more of back in Eden–but he has given me permission to share the news early with the Operatives gathered here.”
“First, he shares the good news that he has married–”
Sword 31 had to stop as three of the others each gasped audibly and turned to Yani. “And, I might add, his new wife is returning to Eden with him tonight.”
Jaime couldn’t help it. She blushed deeply as those at the table played a quick game of elimination and all eyes focused on her.
“My dear girl–!” started Andrea; then she stopped, because she’d run out of words.
“I continue by telling you that Sword 23 and Jaime Ingridsdotter were Operatives together on the current critical, which was brought to conclusion yesterday. It concerned the retrieval of a Messenger box from a lost cave in the Judean wilderness.”
The room was so quiet that the spit of the fire had the impact of a firecracker.
“They were able to retrieve both the box and its contents. Contents which have been lost for two thousand years. We don’t know for certain, but we have high hopes–”
“The writings of Yacov?” whispered Andrea.
“We have high hopes. The package returns with us tonight.”
Yani held up the velvet package.
“Well done,” said the male Operative from across the table.
“Indeed,” echoed his female counterpart.
“So, we have much to anticipate on our return home,” said Sword 31. “Well done, all.”
He took out a bottle of red wine and uncorked it.
A silver goblet sat in front of each of them. One of the gems known as the Six Sisters of Eden adorned each cup.
This felt so surreal for Jaime. She’d gone from the Terris world into Eden only once before. And that time she’d sat alone at a small table in a hut at the end of the world. And a mysterious man called Yani had told her of Eden, invited her to come. She had no assurance he wasn’t crazy. She had no assurance of anything. He’d poured a cup of wine for her, and spiked it with a liquid drug.
She’d had to choose on faith whether to drink, and risk, and go–or refuse, and stay.
Jaime had bet everything on Yani.
As she had again.
Sword 31 walked behind each chair, his hand resting on the shoulder of the Operative before him, saying a short benediction quietly, for hearing of the person in front of him only, before he poured the specified amount of knockout drug into each cup. He paused an extra moment with Sword 23, and whatever he said caused both men to smile.
Jaime watched as he then poured the drug into the cup of Sword 23, who had become a lowly Operative again–for her.
Then Sword 31 stood behind Jaime; his hand was heavy on her shoulder. “Well done, good and faithful servant,” he said simply. “And then he leaned in closer and said, “Well done–on all counts.”
Jaime felt warmth pour through her, and she had the courage to look up–at her husband. He was looking at her intently, with a depth of love and passion that she’d never seen before, even from him.
Sword 31 was back at the head of the table. “Let’s journey together,” he said to Andrea, and poured a draught into her goblet from the bottle of wine. She mixed it with the silver swizzle stick, then took the bottle with a smile before turning to Jaime.
“Let’s journey together,” she said, and poured Jaime’s wine.
Jaime mixed hers as she’d seen Andrea do; then she accepted the bottle.
She turned to Yani. “Let’s journey together,” she said, and she poured the wine for him. It was the exact opposite of the last time they’d done this, when Yani had poured her two drinks–one spiked, one not–and let her choose.
He mixed his drink, then looked up, and grinned at her.
He took the bottle and poured it for the other male Operative before turning back to Jaime.
Then Yani put his hand on the table, palm up. She took it with hers. As the last two Operatives poured the wine, he breathed for her ears only, “I love you. My wife.”
“My husband,” she said, “we’re alive!” There was wonder in her voice.
“Let’s go home,” he said. “And continu
e to journey together.”
And then Sword 31 stood at the head of the table and took his own, unspiked, drink. He started, “Let’s raise our cups because–”
“Who rules Eden rules the world,” they answered together.
Jaime and Yani continued to hold hands as they raised their cups to each other, and together they drank.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
What continues to make the Eden Thrillers an adventure for the authors is those who journey with us. Thanks first, as always, to our editor, Jennifer Enderlin, for taking a chance on Eden in the first place, then for her incisive comments and depth of understanding. Sometimes we wonder if she realizes the difference her career has made in the lives of so many. Sara Goodman, for making the road smooth; Susan Cohen, agent and friend; Sarah Silberman, for helpful graphics; John Karle and friends in St. Martin’s publicity department; PJ Nunn and the gang at BreakThrough Promotions; Barbara Wild for copyediting expertise; and the fantastic book lovers who own or manage the bookstores we visited across the country. Thanks so much for your knowledge, your welcome, and your enthusiasm. Thanks, too, to Gary Kessler for information hard to come by elsewhere. We’ll leave it at that. Our gratitude to Lila Abu-Lughod for her fascinating books, for recording women’s voices among Egyptian/Libyan Bedouin with heart and understanding, as well as for timely e-mail dispatches from New York and Cairo. To Xavier and Christine, proprietors and hosts extraordinaire of Manoir de la Semoigne in Villers-Agron… just across from the old church with the unused bell tower… forgive us for letting an American rock star barge in. As always, we thank our early readers: Robert Owens Scott, Mary Ann O’Roark, William D. Webber, Deb Holton-Smith, Nancy Moore, Lisa Cullen, Stacey Chisholm, Tom Mattingly, and Bill DeSmedt. Your feedback and collective wisdom brought the book into focus.
From Sharon: Thanks to my family who keep the home fires going: Bob, Jonathan, and Linnéa; my parents, Marilynn and Bill Webber; those good friends who keep me sane (well, almost); my godmother, Shirley Nice, for traipsing the hills of San Francisco with me, from signing to signing, in heels that were only for the most intrepid; and, as always, B.K., my invaluable companion for this journey. What a ride it’s been! Seriously, what are the odds?
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