by J. B. Turner
“How do I know that I can trust you?”
“You don’t.”
Beatrice sat in silence.
Stone drove on through the dark.
“This is literally in the middle of nowhere.”
“Probably.”
“Tell me why they want to kill you. Tell me who exactly wants you dead. I need to know what the fuck this is all about.”
Stone sighed again.
“I’m waiting.”
“It’s not the sort of thing you really want to know.”
“Try me.”
“I was hired by an organization a couple of years back to kill a guy.”
Beatrice buried her face in her hands. “You’re not joking, are you?”
“No, I’m not.”
“So, did you kill this guy? Who was he?”
“You don’t need to know. The operation was overseas. But it all went to shit. I destroyed a facility owned by the people who hired me.”
“Shit.”
“Then they kidnapped my sister.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did they kidnap your sister?”
Stone shrugged. “Payback.”
“You’re shitting me?”
Stone stared straight ahead and drove.
“Are you kidding me? Is that what this is?”
“It’s the truth. So now you know.”
“Jimmy, this sounds . . . So, they want to kill you now for what exactly?”
“I managed to turn the tables on the whole organization. Wiped them out. Or so I thought.”
“Now they’ve found out where you are and used me to . . . what exactly?”
“Lure me to an imaginary party, where no doubt I would have been killed, you too.”
Beatrice shook her head. “This is certifiable. I don’t like hearing stuff like this.”
“Now you know what you’re dealing with. Trust me, these people—you don’t want them to get you.”
“These people . . .” She shivered.
“You’ve got a choice. You either take your chances with the guys who are after me. Or you learn to trust me.”
“Trust you? Why the fuck should I trust you?”
“Your choice.”
“Some fucking choice. Christ, what about my family?”
Stone checked the GPS.
“Where are you taking me?”
“If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve killed you by now. So I’d appreciate if you could just focus on the fact that we are both going to die if they get their hands on us.”
Beatrice sighed. “I fucking need to pee. Where are we now?”
“Main Park Road. Headed southwest, if you must know.”
“No idea where that is.”
“Yeah.”
“I can’t see anything. It’s pitch black. Just the asphalt. And the grass. And some trees.”
“Do you honestly not know where you are?”
“Somewhere in Florida?”
Stone didn’t tell her that they were now approaching the River of Grass. One of the great American wildernesses. The Everglades.
Seven
A musty aroma from the nearby mangrove swamps seeped through the car’s vents. Stone stared at the dark road. His mind flashed back to the last time he’d been here, ten years before. He remembered being dragged from the grassy shallows, slipping into unconsciousness, close to death. Lungs filled with brackish water. He remembered harsh chopper lights in the darkness. Faces staring down at him. Everything slowed.
He’d wanted to speak but he couldn’t. Couldn’t breathe either. He’d realized he was close to checking out of this world. Then all was darkness.
The next thing he remembered was waking up in a hospital in Saudi Arabia, his handler having smuggled him out of the country in the dead of night. It had been a botched assassination attempt. Before long there was a death announcement. Fake death certificate. Nathan Stone had died. At least officially. A funeral was mocked up. He hadn’t known it at the time. But it had all been part of a plan to resurrect him with a new face, new look, new name. He’d been transferred to the Commission’s facility in Scotland, where he was kept in isolation while they monitored his recovery. Eventually, he was ready to be deployed again. The new assassin. Primed to kill.
All these thoughts swam around his head as he drove on in silence.
Stone knew their current predicament was dire. The reality was they would be lucky to still be alive in twenty-four hours. The Commission had come for him. Nathan going on the run with the woman they’d hired wouldn’t dissuade them. If anything, it would enrage them. Then make them focus. Nathan tried to imagine how they would react. He thought he and Beatrice might have a few hours’ head start. But the Commission would deploy a team, and that team would find them. Of that he had no doubt.
Surveillance technology today was so pervasive, the Commission could find them anywhere. What they needed to do was drop off the grid completely. Disappear. And the Everglades was the best place he knew of to do that. A raw wilderness. Untamed.
Stone wondered who was calling the shots on this operation. He thought he’d brought down the whole organization when he killed Clayton Wilson and all the others in New York. But it was clear the entity was still alive. He assumed Berenger, the Commission’s in-house shrink—the guy who’d signed off on Stone’s fitness for his first mission after his resurrection—was still around. He’d always been there, moving in the shadows, organizing. Planning.
The soft-spoken psychologist. Berenger was, like Stone—like most of those associated with the Commission—former CIA. And that was the other possibility that presented itself: that this private offshoot of the CIA was no longer entirely off the books, in the shadows. Was this attempt to take him out being run out of Langley?
The more Nathan thought about his predicament, the gloomier he felt. What a fucking mess. It was possible they were already closing in and he just didn’t know it.
Stone was also angry with himself for taking the risk of heading to Miami for a few days of R & R. How could he have been so undisciplined thinking that his reconfigured face wouldn’t ping up among all the cameras in a big American city? In South Beach, cameras were everywhere. Bars, restaurants, all over.
Had he gotten careless, making such bad judgments? Was it bad luck? He wondered why he hadn’t been more alert. He had stayed down and around the Keys for the most part but also spent some time in a crummy motel room, where he could monitor his sister.
He knew better than anyone that big cities were a magnet for surveillance cameras. Then he began to wonder if, subconsciously perhaps, he wanted to be caught. Wanted it to be over. Was that it?
Beatrice turned and glared at him. “Do you know this area?” she asked.
“Yeah. I know it well enough.”
“So, do you kill people out here?” When he didn’t answer, she said, “Great. So, are you going to tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“Where you’re taking me.” Beatrice unbuckled her seat belt and reached for the door.
Stone braked hard and brought the car to a grinding halt. He grabbed her by the arm again. “Don’t be so stupid.”
“I need to pee.”
Stone shook his head. “Fine. Pee. And then we go.”
Beatrice got out of the car. Before he knew it, she was sprinting back down the dark road they had just traveled.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Stone jumped out of the car and pursued the rapidly retreating figure, who was screaming like a banshee. “Get back here!” he roared.
Beatrice was running hard despite her high heels.
The drone of a distant engine pierced the humid night air. It seemed to be getting closer. Then a speck of light appeared out of the darkness. Farther down the dark road. A mile or so away. A lone biker came into sight.
Beatrice ran, waving her arms. “Help! Stop!”
Stone immediately realized the potential danger. But he cou
ldn’t be sure. He pulled the Glock out of his waistband. He took aim as the bike roared toward Beatrice. “Get out of the way!” he shouted to her.
Beatrice kept on running wildly. The road was bathed in a ghostly glow from the moon above and the bike speeding toward them. The scene played out as if in slow motion.
Stone saw the biker reach down to a leg strap. He was sure there was a gun. But he didn’t wait to find out.
He squeezed the trigger twice.
The shots rang out in the sultry night. Birds screeched as they flew out of their nests in the trees.
The biker went over as he lost control. The sound of metal scraping as he tumbled across the road, sliding with the bike into a ditch. The smell of burning rubber.
Beatrice turned and screamed.
Stone ran over to the ditch. The guy was lying beside the mangled bike. Twisted hand still gripping the gun, smeared in mud and grass. Stone yanked the gun from the man’s hand and threw it away into the long grass. He ripped off the biker’s visor. The guy’s eyes were glassy and open, blood spilling out of his mouth. He tried to speak.
Stone pressed his gun to the guy’s forehead. He stared down.
The guy blinked.
Stone could hear only his strained breathing. He needed to know if there were others. Were they on their way? He could see the guy was close to death.
He put his gun back into his waistband. Then he dragged the guy through the trees that fringed the road and into the marshy grasses. Squelching through the muddy ground. He rifled in the guy’s pockets and found a cell phone, which he slid into his pocket.
Stone retrieved the bike from the ditch. Then he maneuvered it through the twisted hardwood and cypress trees to the same spot as the biker’s body, hidden in the deep grass. Both out of sight from the road.
Stone was panting as he pushed his way back through the lush vegetation. Long grass, trees, then back on the dark road. He turned and saw that Beatrice was now a few hundred yards away. He sprinted after her. He was still pretty far away from her. But when she glanced back, she stumbled, and that gave Stone the advantage he needed.
A few seconds later and he had caught up with her.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he asked, grabbing her arm.
“Go to hell!”
Stone dragged her back down the road; she cursed at him the whole time. He was lucky there were no passing cars. This was getting seriously out of hand. His mind was made up. The Everglades were their only option now. And he needed to get them there quick. He dropped the biker’s cell phone down a storm drain so they couldn’t track it on GPS. Then he strapped her back into her seat.
Beatrice looked exhausted, her face flushed.
“Not smart,” he said.
“Why did you kill him!”
“I shot him. I didn’t kill him.”
“You shot him? Why?”
“He was one of them. He was going to kill us.”
“One of them. What does that mean?”
“It means we need to get out of here.”
“I hate you! I fucking hate you!” She clawed at his face.
Stone grabbed her hands to restrain her. “Haven’t you been listening to what I’ve been saying? I’m trying to put space between us and them. Now, if you’re so dumb that you don’t mind being caught by these people, then that’s your choice. But it’s not mine. I have dealt with these people, and they do not reason. What they do is kill. Ask questions later. And that’s if you’re lucky.”
Beatrice wailed, “Is he dead?”
“He will be soon.”
“I want to go home! I want out of here! You said I could go!”
“Not while you’re jeopardizing my life.”
“What?”
“Anything that stops me from getting away from them is putting me at a disadvantage. My sister has no one but me looking out for her. If they manage to kill me, they’ll either kill her too or leave her to rot. I’m not going to allow that to happen. And I will not allow any two-bit actress to get in my way.” Stone released his grip. “Do you understand?”
Beatrice sobbed hard and took off her seat belt. “Please let me go.”
Stone slid back into the driver’s seat, slamming his door shut. He hit the gas and accelerated hard. “Buckle up.”
She sighed and did as she was told.
“Now, I said I was going to let you go. And I was. But you’re causing me problems, and I can’t have that. The easy solution would be to kill you here and now. Do you understand and appreciate that fact?”
Beatrice nodded.
“Good. Now we’re getting somewhere. Do you see anyone else on this road?”
“No.”
“That’s right. There is no one here. And I have not killed you.”
“You shot him . . . I can’t believe you shot him.”
“It had to be done.”
“You’re going to kill me. I know it.”
“I’m not going to kill you. But I can assure you that guy’s crew will be trying to pick up our trail one way or the other. They will find us if you act like that—running off, calling attention to us. Keep doing that and there’s a distinct possibility that they will find us before you even get to talk to the cops.”
They drove in silence along the deserted road for a few more miles. Stone checked the GPS. His mind was racing as he considered his options. Beatrice was clearly going to be a problem if he kept her with him. But if he wanted to keep her alive, that meant dragging her along.
He stopped the car in the middle of the road. He switched off the headlights. “Get out,” he said.
Beatrice got out and stood, arms folded, beside the darkened road.
Stone maneuvered the car through the shoulder-high trees and grass lining the road. He shut off the engine and got out. Satisfied the Audi was out of sight, Stone looked at Beatrice. “I’ve got a plan.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means we’re headed where no one can find us. At least for a while, until I figure this out.”
“You’re starting to sound paranoid.”
“Maybe I am.”
“This is getting seriously nuts. I want to get back to my life.”
“So do I. But we need to be smart.”
Beatrice sighed. “So why don’t we just leave Florida now?”
Stone grabbed her by the arm and hauled her along the dark road, the pale gleam of the moon bathing the asphalt, illuminating the way.
“I don’t want to go.” She tried to break free from his grip.
Stone held on to her.
Beatrice struggled free. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
Stone grabbed her arm again. “How many times do I have to tell you?” he said, marching her along the road. “You need to move! There will be others who will come after us.”
Beatrice began to sob again. “I can’t fucking believe this. Get your hands off me!”
Stone spotted a small dirt trail leading into the darkness, shrouded by cypress trees and grass and foliage. A trail he’d hiked many times.
Stone pulled Beatrice down the dirt trail. A few moments later she broke free and began to run again. He ran after her and launched himself at her, knocking her to the ground.
Stone maneuvered her onto her back and sat astride her as she tried to claw and bite him. He held her wrists tight and pinned them to the earth.
She spat up at him. “Fuck you! Let me go, you sick fuck!”
Stone felt a surge of anger rise to the surface. An anger that he sometimes managed to keep in check. But she was pressing all his buttons.
“I said let me go!” She spat again.
Stone wiped the spittle off his face. He hauled her to her feet and pointed the Glock at her head. “You’ve got a choice now. You either head down the trail or I will shoot you dead. Here and now. Makes no difference to me.”
Beatrice was nearly hysterical, sobbing and screaming.
“No one will hear you. So you nee
d to focus.”
“I don’t want to focus, you bastard.”
Stone pulled back the slide. “Last chance. Answer me or you die! Here and now!”
“I want to live! Please, I want to live!”
“So do I. So we walk.”
Beatrice hung her head low as if resigned to her fate.
“You do what you’re told, and you will live. I can’t have you fucking flagging down some motorist first thing in the morning. You can guarantee they will be swarming that road at first light. They’re closing in. So, what’s it going to be?”
“Please don’t hurt me. I’m not good with pain. Can’t you see I’m scared?”
Stone pressed the gun tight to her head.
“Okay, I’ll walk.” She wiped the tears from her face as she followed him back down the trail. “So, where are we walking to?”
“You’ll see.”
“Christ, there is nothing here. I’m in the middle of fucking nowhere.”
“We’re on the edge of nowhere. You’re dawdling. Walk in front of me.”
Stone waited for her to catch up and followed a few yards behind her.
She swatted some bugs. “The fuck is this?”
“It’s southern Florida. Deal with it.”
She smiled with imitation sweetness. “Are you going to shoot me in the head, tough guy?”
“If you don’t shut up, that can be arranged.”
“Un-fucking-believable. What is it with men and the wilderness?”
“What do you know about men?”
“A lot, trust me. And you’re all a bunch of bastards.”
Stone shook his head, sweat beading his forehead. His shirt was sticking to his back. The smell of the ancient mangroves and the brackish water wafted in the sticky air.
“You going to rape me out here? Well, I’d rather you shoot me in the back of the fucking head, you scumbag.”
Stone ignored her. They walked on in silence for a few minutes. The bugs were biting like crazy. Beatrice was shaking out her hair and swatting everything she could.
“That’ll be just great. I get kidnapped and then end up dying of fucking malaria or Zika or some shit.”
“You’ve got some mouth on you.”
“Fuck you.”
“Nice.”
Beatrice began to slow down until she stopped, hands on hips.