Wiser Than Serpents

by Susan May Warren

  Why he’d lived the life he had. Made the choices he’d made.

  The choice to love Yanna, from a distance. To pray for her. To be truth and commitment and support in her life.

  He heard her words again, now letting them inside to touch him. You make me believe that God loves me.

  To believe that God loved her. Thank You. Thank You for letting me see You touch her life. David breathed in. Out. Thank You.

  He lifted his chin as the door opened. Bring it on, Kwan.

  “You look like you’ve been hit by a semi and dragged down the street.”

  Huh? David blinked against the light pushing into the room from the hallway, his eyes wide as he connected the body to the voice. The body crouched next to him, grabbed his arm. “You okay, pal?”

  Roman? David opened his mouth, but nothing came from him.

  “Can you stand?” Roman tucked his hand under David’s arm. “How bad are you hurt?”

  Aside from his legs wanting to give out and his brain in knots…“I’m okay. I’m—where’s Yanna?” Okay, now he was fully functioning, at least zeroing in on his priorities. He turned his hands toward Roman. “Get me out of these.”

  Roman nodded, turned toward the hallway. “Bruce! We need a handcuff key here!”

  Bruce? “Oh, no, Roma, Bruce is—”

  “Really glad to see you.” Bruce came in holding his 9 mm pistol, and slapped a key into Roman’s hand. “We thought you’d be fish bait by now.” He stepped back from David, which was a good thing because it gave David about five extra seconds to debate what he was about to do as Roman unlocked his handcuffs.

  He did it anyway.

  “David, let him go!”

  But David wasn’t listening, just squeezing. He had Bruce up against the wall, one hand around his neck, the other pinning Bruce’s weapon hand to the wall where he could see it. Bruce had his hand around David’s wrist, was trying some kung-fu bone-twisting, hold-breaking move on him, but David had gone into pit-bull mode.

  He wasn’t moving until Bruce coughed out every one of his sins.

  So what if it might be hard to talk with his oxygen cut off—he could nod, right?

  “Were you the one telling Kwan where to find us? Only you knew I was having a meet with him, only you knew about the safe house in Taichung. Why, Bruce, why?”

  Oops, that wasn’t a yes or no answer. But Bruce was shaking his head anyway, kicking him, punching him in the face. David didn’t budge. Not when, in the back of the chaos, he saw Yanna on the boat, white with fear when Kwan told David he was going to kill her. Not when he remembered their contact at the safe house, and Trish Yung’s crying in pain, and—

  “David! Stop!” Roman had him now around the neck. “Bruce didn’t do it!”

  “He’s the mole, Roman, he’s the mole.” David’s voice had pitched to a deathly low level, all his energy on keeping his hold.

  Bruce had started to turn white, was blinking his eyes.

  “He nearly killed Yanna, nearly killed me. He hurt Cho and Trish and her baby.” His voice cracked. “And Chet—what about Chet?”

  “Chet’s alive. And you’re killing Bruce. You don’t want to do this. If he’s the mole then we’ll find out, but—”

  “David.”

  The voice, calm and sweet beside him, cut through his haze of anger.

  “David, let him go.”

  He looked over at Yanna. Her eyes were wide, and she was shaking her head. “Please.”

  David closed his eyes. You make me believe that God loves me.

  He blew out a long breath, and impaled Bruce with a glare.

  Then he let go.

  Bruce slumped down against the wall, gasping in breath. David stood over him, breathing hard. “So help me, if I find out you’re the mole…that you’re behind hurting my friends…”

  “He’s not. He saved your life, David.” The voice came from behind Yanna, and David looked up to see his old partner standing there in the doorway, handgun at his side. Chet.

  A very alive, sturdy-looking Chet in a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt. He must have swiped them from someone, because he didn’t have it buttoned all the way due to the fact that he couldn’t get the shirt around the bandage that crisscrossed his chest. David hurt a little in the same place, seeing him. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in the hospital.”

  “I got wind of this story about my partner running around Taiwan, busting up bad guys. You have all the fun.”

  David locked eyes with Yanna. A very alive Yanna. Then, right there in front of everyone, he reached out and pulled her to himself. And she hung on, as if she had always belonged there.

  Which, she had.

  “How’d you find us?”

  “Yanna’s wizardry,” Roman said. “When I lost you at the harbor, I went back and called Chet, who called Bruce. He fired up their GPS system and began to search—not that I thought we’d find anything, but I thought maybe, hopefully, you know, Yanna’s pretty smart.” Roman flashed her a smile.

  “Yeah. Too smart for our own good, sometimes.” But David pressed a kiss to her forehead.

  “Anyway, Chet and Bruce knew you were here in Taichung, so they hightailed it down here, and we were down at the wharf, eyes on Kwan’s yacht when his people called and said they’d picked up Yanna’s panic code. From here.”

  David shot a glance at Bruce as Roman reached down and pulled Bruce to his feet. David stepped away from him, eyeing Bruce, who looked shaken, still rubbing his throat.

  “Did you get Kwan?”

  “Yeah, he’s in custody, and my people are searching the building.” Bruce’s voice came out hoarse, and David guessed he probably had some swelling. “We’ll take him back to headquarters, and then the fun starts. You…you can be there if you want.”

  David looked him over, sorted through those words. Translation—if I was the mole, would I risk letting Kwan rat me out, right in front of you?

  “You need to see a doctor, probably,” David said. For the moment, that was the closest to an apology he could get.

  Bruce gave a nod. Apology sort of accepted.

  “Elena—”

  “We found two rooms of women—you’re going to be sick when you see their ages. And at the loading dock, two empty containers, with bunk beds built in the sides,” Chet said.

  “He was going to ship them in containers?” This from Yanna, who had stepped away from him, just a little, but not too far. Please, not too far.

  “People—kids, men, women—they’re trafficked from all over the world, shipped to foreign countries where they’re trapped and helpless. Americans in Malaysia, Koreans in America. It’s a giant operation, and Kwan is just one of many. When he’s out of the picture, another slimeball will ooze into his place.” Bruce’s voice emerged hoarse, at best.

  “You should know that there’s another one out there—another Kwan Jr. that Kwan’s grooming.”

  Bruce nodded. “We know. But we have to take down one Serpent at a time.”

  “I want to talk to Kwan,” David said.

  “First, you’re going to the hospital,” Yanna said, moving to put her arm around him.

  He looked down at her, those beautiful eyes trusting him. He had to keep his promise—the one he had made to himself. And to her. “No,” he said quietly. “First, I’m going to the airport. So you and Roman and Elena can go home.”

  And she was expected to live without David, how? Especially after he’d nearly given up his life for her, something she felt sure she’d never have been able to live with.

  Yanna closed her eyes, feeling the pressure crack her ears as the plane descended into Russian airspace, toward the landing strip in Khabarovsk. Elena sat beside her, a whitened grip on her hand that she hadn’t loosened since they’d stumbled out of Kwan’s basement dungeon and into the light.

  She’d even hung on as David pulled Yanna into his arms one last time.

  And right there, in front of Roman, who had most defin
itely been watching, based on his openmouthed grin as he’d escorted them through passport control, David had given her a kiss that told her he had heard, really heard her words to him.

  You make me believe that God loves me. She put her other hand over Elena’s, feeling her sister’s grip tremble slightly.

  God had done this. He’d helped her find Elena. And saved David.

  God, please help me to believe in You. To trust You. As she thought the words, the knot that wound through her chest, the one she’d learned to live with, suddenly began to loosen. She felt it, even as she took a deep, tremulous breath.

  Maybe this was what hope felt like.

  She opened her eyes. Glanced at Roman, who sat across the aisle from her. Though he had his eyes closed, she didn’t for a second believe he was sleeping, but he did look at peace.

  The same expression David had worn as he’d pressed his hand to the window that separated them from passport control. If it was the last thing she’d remember, it was the look of love in his incredible blue eyes, the way they shone, the way he stared at her, as if imprinting himself on her heart.

  God, please, watch over him.

  As she prayed, she looked out the window to the cirrus clouds scraping sky, and decided that was how she was expected to live without David.

  With hope.

  They touched down, a bumpy landing in Khabarovsk. A flight from America had come in just prior to theirs, and as she and Elena followed Roman through the military line of passport control, she couldn’t help but think of David. And wondered where he was, if he was mopping up the mess in Taiwan, and with the information he’d pry out of Kwan if he’d have to go back undercover to sleuth out the “other” Serpent, which meant she didn’t have a hope of seeing him in the near or even distant future.

  The precious hope that had filled her chest took a spiral down to her knees.

  Especially when she saw Vicktor.

  “Oh, my—what happened to you?”

  Vicktor was sitting in a vinyl chair in front of one of the passport desks, boasting a black eye and a vicious welt on his jaw. She’d heard the border guards were cracking down in America, but seriously…

  “What happened to you?”

  Roman sat down beside him. “Tell me that Gracie was glad to see you?”

  But Vicktor’s gaze was on Elena, who still had a hold of Yanna. “You found her.” And the smile in his eyes warmed Yanna clear through. He sprang to his feet and pulled Yanna to him. He smelled a little ripe, as if he’d been in the same clothes for three days. Which, by the looks of him, he had.

  He put her away from him, searching her for injury, as if he wasn’t a walking Fight Club billboard. “What happened?”

  Yanna opened her mouth, not sure where to start, but Roman filled him in with the high points. Elena crept even closer to Yanna.

  “And David’s still there?” Vicktor asked, when Roman got to the part about them getting on the plane.

  “Trying to track down this other Serpent Kwan wanted to know about. What happened to you?”

  Vicktor looked at Roman. “Gracie was in trouble. She got in the middle of a human-trafficking ring—”

  “Big surprise there,” Roman said.

  “She was just trying to help a friend, and it got ugly. Sokolov tried to kill her—”

  “Which meant that you got into the middle of it.” Yanna reached out and touched the welt on his jaw. “That looks like it hurt.”

  Vicktor rubbed the welt, wincing. “Sokolov had a ring…” Vicktor wore a strange look.

  Yanna’s hand went to her cheek, as memory made her wince. “Gold snake, with red rubies?” she asked.

  She saw the answer in his eyes even before he answered.

  “The other Serpent in training…Roman—”

  “I’m already there,” he said, dialing his cell phone. He looked at Yanna, his eyes light when he got a voice at the other end. “Hey, Preach,” he said, turning from them.

  Yanna looked back at Vicktor, who was frowning. “So…Gracie was happy to see you, Dr. Zaitsev?”

  He wore the sweetest blush.

  “And just how long before you’re allowed back in the country?”

  His smile fell.

  Oh, perfect.

  “But the good news is, I think Gracie is ready to marry me.”

  At least someone would get their happily ever after. But as she watched Roman talk, she had to hope that maybe, just maybe, hers wasn’t far behind.

  Chapter Twenty

  “R eady, when you are.”

  Yanna heard the voice over the radio and peered at the computer screen, which revealed the ancient hotel room—not unlike the room she was in next door—with the black molded plastic double bed, the gold polyester spread, the black velour drapes. An unopened vodka bottle and two glasses were set on the table, and next to that, sat slim and beautiful Zina Bruskho, aka “Madame,” the field operator for this mission.

  “You’re on, Madame,” Yanna said, speaking into her lapel mic.

  Yanna watched, her breath tight, surrounded by her techies as Madame answered the door, and in walked their target. Qyin-Wo. Chinese Minister of Justice.

  It felt amazingly empowering to be on the catch end instead of the run-away side of the mission. Sometimes in her new position as Assistant Director of Surveillance and R & D, Yanna still saw herself handcuffed to a chair, watching Kwan flick out her small knife.

  She’d come a long way, baby. In fact, as Qyin-Wo walked into the room, all two hundred and fifty robust pounds of him, and Zina let him pour her drink, Yanna knew she’d been working toward this view all her life.

  Watching killers like Qyin-Wo go down.

  This view might not be as beautiful as a fourth-story window overlooking lush gardens, but it also came courtesy of a fourth-floor office in the FSB Headquarters off Lubyanaka Square, which overlooked a four-lane road, one of the busiest in all of Moscow. Soon, come spring, when she opened her office window, she’d hear the coughing cars, the pigeons cooing from the metal sill of her ancient window, smell the cooking oil from chebureki vendors infiltrating her office. Of course, the paint was peeling from the frame, and the glass rattled when the wind swept by on its way east. Some said that once upon a time, the KGB could see all the way to Siberia from the offices in Lubyanka, but Yanna knew it was only legend, because she couldn’t even see Red Square.

  Still, her new office had a window. And red brocade drapes, and a parquet floor, and lime-green walls and pretty soon, pictures. She’d bring some from her new flat—ones of Roman and Sarai, taken at their Christmas engagement party, and Vicktor, and Mae and Gracie in Seattle, and David.

  Of course, David. Although she didn’t know where he might be at the moment. Maybe still in Taiwan, although Trish and Cho—who’d had a healthy baby boy two months ago—hadn’t heard from him, even though he’d sent them a huge bouquet of blue flowers and a teddy bear the size of Russia. Even Roman didn’t know where to track down his friend. He hadn’t talked to him since the airport in Taipei, when David had neatly booted her out of his life.

  Yeah, that hurt.

  A lot.

  And even being offered her dream job, which came with an entire department of R & D geeks for her to harass, travel perks and a three-room flat, it only slightly dulled the pain of a broken heart.

  Still it was better than being a basement tech grub, stuck in Siberia with a broken heart.

  “Are you getting his words?” she asked one of her techs, who was fluent not only in Mandarin but in manning the digital recordings.

  “Da, Director Andrevka,” he said. Yanna folded her arms over her pressed blouse. Director.

  Hmm. David should see her now. Maybe he’d answer her online pages, the ones left in their chat rooms.

  It had been five months. After two, she’d stopped trying. Now, if she could only stop hoping she’d find his e-mail waiting for her.

  It was very possible he had decided that being with her, knowing her, had made
his life so much more complicated than he’d ever imagined, and he couldn’t repeat that ever again.

  Her brain, the part not connected to her heart, could admit that loving a woman with high-security clearance, when he had his own high-security clearance, well, there were certainly international issues there.

  She couldn’t really blame him for his silence. Not really.

  But, ow.

  In fact, his absence had left a great, big, weepy, raw hole right in the center of her chest. Which had made it difficult to breathe, but she’d learned, finally, to bandage that wound with her job, and Elena, who had re-enrolled in Moscow University to finish her law degree. Yanna was also trying out for the Moscow Volleyball team. And wouldn’t David be curious to know she was going to church. Moscow Bible Church, which had a progressive group of new Christians. Roman had given her a Bible, and with a little coaching, she’d begun to read.

  She wouldn’t call herself a scholar, by any means. But every day she felt a little more whole. A little more healed.

  And maybe, someday, she’d be okay.

  Definitely okay. And not because she’d forget David—that might resemble trying to forget about her heart beating in her chest—but she might someday believe in her heart what her brain told her. That God did love her. And that He had a good plan for her life. With or without David.

  And that good plan had turned out to be making her not only director of what she loved to do, but also, because of her new exuberance to wipe out human slavery, she’d been the point woman for tapping the offices of Zhenshini & Lubov. Which, as it turned out, was indeed a front for trafficking.

  She stepped back from the techs—how she used to hate when her bosses hovered over her—and watched the drama in the next room. Madame had sat next to Qyin-Wo on the bed, letting him refill her drink. She smiled up at the man and it made Yanna press her hand to her stomach.

  Zhenshini & Lubov had proved to be only one of dozens of fronts. And after months of surveillance and taps and intercepted messages and chat-room peeking, Yanna had discovered that everything routed through one man, the leader of the network of lowlife scums.