He reached his arm out toward Daniel, who helped him up off the ground.
“And since I now know that way is north… ,” he pointed back into the woods, the way they had come, “then I also know we need to go this way to find my place.” And he steered his friend down the path.
“Whatever that was you just did, you’ve got to teach it to me!” said Daniel.
“It’s a deal,” said Eric, smiling to himself, noting that he no longer felt sick to his stomach.
The two boys had only taken a few steps toward their destination when they heard a voice from behind them.
“Yes, I’m impressed, too. However, I don’t believe either of you is supposed to be outside, am I right?”
A middle-aged woman whom Eric had never seen before was standing on the path. The tone of her voice and look on her face was that of a school principal having caught two students skipping school. That image quickly faded, however, when Eric noted the large handgun she pointed directly at them.
“I know you!” said Daniel in disbelief. “You’re the lady from the mall… with the car problems.”
“What a smart kid. Too bad it killed you.” She was smiling when she rested the butt of her pistol in the palm of her free hand and calmly fired off a round in his direction.
Eric watched in horror as the bullet struck his friend in the chest and he crumpled into the snow.
“Daniel!” he cried, reaching down to help his friend, who now lay limp and unmoving on the ground.
“One step and you join your friend,” said the woman. And Eric straightened back up to see she now had her weapon trained on him.
He faced her with an angry defiance, anger that she could so callously hurt his friend, anger at his mother for being part of all this, anger at his stupid disease for robbing him of the strength he needed right now to fight back.
“Who are you?” she asked, seeming only slightly curious about his answer.
“Eric Carlson,” he barked, fighting the impulse to cry. The last thing in the world he wanted was to give her the satisfaction of seeing him cry.
The woman’s eyebrows raised in surprise as she connected the dots between this boy, the island, and the escaped captives. Eric saw a moment of indecision as she seemed to consider the implications of her next action. Then as quickly as it had appeared, the hesitation vanished.
“Well, no matter,” was her offhand reply to no one in particular, and she took aim directly at Eric’s head.
So this is it. The end.
He closed his eyes and muttered under his breath, “Little me. Big God.”
February 27, 2006, 1:28 a.m.
Tranholmen Island
Stockholm, Sweden
* * *
The light from the little flashlight bobbed up and down as Ryan walked along the path. Jimi had put him in front because his sharp, youthful eyes would be their best guides on this dark trail. Then Jimi and Inaba each took turns carrying the sleeping toddler.
Jimi noticed that the forest was beginning to thin out a bit. He could see more sky and stars and hoped that meant they would soon reach the end of the path. The baby seemed cozy and warm wrapped in her jacket, and Ryan had that immunity to cold common in most young boys, but Inaba was shivering. In spite of her parka, her lack of acclimatization to this bitter cold was apparent. They needed to reach safety, and warmth, soon.
Finally the woods disappeared, and the small band of runaways found themselves standing on a dead quiet shore. In the clear, starry night they could barely make out the dark outline of the mainland about 200 meters across the icy water. Between them and their ultimate goal was a long wooden bridge with planks frozen into the ice and a thin railing on each side. The planks looked sturdy enough, but they were certain to be slick.
“Cool!” exclaimed Ryan, who immediately moved to cross the bridge.
“Wait,” said Jimi, placing his hand on the young boy’s arm to slow him down.
Jimi turned to look back the way they had come. He could hear echoes of what sounded like an engine behind them, but it did not seem to be moving in their direction. What was happening back there on the island? Had they really made such a clean escape, or were they walking into a trap of some sort?
But that really wasn’t what made Jimi hesitate. He kept hoping Daniel would catch up with them. But there was no sign of him.
He’s a smart kid, Jimi thought. He wouldn’t need their help to get across the bridge. And besides, if they reached help, they could send someone back for him.
Seeing the dilemma in his eyes, Inaba placed her hand lightly on his arm. “His fate is no longer in our hands,” she said quietly.
He bowed his head, nodded, and then turned back to the bridge. He motioned for Ryan to go first, and the young boy moved out onto the walkway. He seemed to have no trouble keeping his footing, and so Jimi encouraged Inaba to follow. For the first time that evening, she seemed unnerved. She looked wary of the bridge and its ability to hold her.
“It’ll be OK,” said Jimi, with a reassuring smile. He reached out to take the baby from her and leave both her hands free to hold the railing, which she did, very tightly. Then he brought up the rear, stepping carefully to keep his own balance with the added weight of the infant.
The little band was about midway across when, at the far end of the bridge, a dark black SUV roared up and came to a halt. Three adults dressed in dark blue coveralls with matching jackets quickly exited the auto. Two of them were carrying rifles.
Were these allies of their captors? Was this why no one had followed them from the island? They were trapped, sitting ducks in the middle of the water, with nowhere to hide.
They halted, hesitating. Inaba and Ryan turned to Jimi for guidance. Keep going forward or turn back? But before he could decide, one of the team on the shore turned to retrieve something from the SUV. On his back, in large white letters, they could read POLIS.
Jimi sighed in relief. “It’s OK.” He motioned to Ryan to continue across the bridge. “They’re good guys.”
Ryan turned and almost ran the rest of the distance, leaving the two adults and their infant charge to continue without a light. He reached the officers and immediately started chattering at a million miles a minute, punctuating his discourse with hand motions pointing back toward the island.
The officers looked bewildered for a moment; then one of them, a woman, stepped forward and put her hands on the boy’s shoulders. “Slow down, please; my English is not that good.”
As she calmed him down and attempted to make what she could of his excited story, the other two officers moved out onto the bridge with their powerful flashlights and guided Jimi, Inaba, and the baby to safety.
Once they safely reached the shore, the officers quickly bundled the group into the warm SUV and began talking to one another in a language Jimi did not understand. The female officer then got behind the wheel of the auto and made a call on her radio.
When she completed the call, she turned back to Jimi and Inaba, who were huddled in the backseat with the sleeping baby stretched across their laps. The officer’s eyebrows arched at the sight of his very feminine lime green parka.
Jimi followed her gaze, rolled his eyes, and said, “It’s a long story.”
“I’m sure it is.” She smiled sympathetically. “You can tell me the whole thing when we get back to the station, where we can better care for you.”
“There are two more boys,” said Jimi quickly. “They may still be in danger.”
“We’ve called for backup,” she responded. “But my partners aren’t waiting. They are heading to the island now to see what they can do.”
The woman settled back into her seat, buckled her seat belt, and revved the engine. As they pulled away, Jimi turned back to see two blue-clad police officers moving swiftly across the bridge toward the island.
Hurry, was all he could think.
February 27, 2006, 1:28 a.m.
Tranholmen Island
Stockholm, Swe
den
* * *
It was dark and cold, and the ride on the snowmobile over the icy ground was anything but smooth. Jaime strained to see ahead as she and Britta searched the dark for the missing captives, but little beyond the immediate area was illuminated by the snowmobile headlights.
Somewhere ahead of them came the muffled crack of a pistol. Jaime saw Britta tense and knew that she herself had jumped at the sound. Their vehicles were now at full speed, Jaime and Britta charging through the forest side by side. Jaime could hardly hear herself think over the racket they made.
After another 30 meters of travel, they rounded a bend and Jaime could barely make out forms on the path. As they closed in, she saw two people standing about 10 meters apart. She did not recognize the thin boy, but she could guess who the woman was who was raising a pistol and taking aim at him.
I don’t think so, said Jaime to herself. She revved her vehicle to maximum power and directed it straight at the woman with the gun, standing up from the seat and leaning forward, as if willing the snowmobile to move faster.
The woman in the path was so focused on her prey that she was, at first, oblivious to the attack from the rear. When she did finally turn to see the vehicle bearing down on her, it was too late to jump out of the way. She turned to run, but it caught her from behind with a glancing blow, sending her face-forward into the snow.
As the vehicle made impact with the woman, Jaime lost control of the snowmobile and it careened into a tree, sending her flying.
She landed on her back, all wind forced from her lungs. She willed herself to catch her breath, then turned over and crawled onto her knees, then up onto her feet.
Over the top of the mangled snowmobile, she could see the assassin scrambling in the snow for something. With a rush, Jaime recalled that the woman had a pistol, and it had probably flown out of her hand during the crash.
She ran and flung herself onto the woman’s legs, tackling her from behind, just as she was reaching for the gun, which Jaime recognized as a Ruger SP101. Jaime crawled over her and tried to secure the weapon herself, but just as she had one hand on it, the other woman pushed forward and tried to rip the pistol from her grasp.
They rolled back and forth in the snow, each trying to claim sole possession of the gun. The assassin was also athletic and well trained, and while Jaime wasn’t able to claim the weapon, she was finally able to send it flying away from them, back into the snow. Now, if she could just grab the woman in such a way as to incapacitate her.
“You tried to kill my son!”
Jaime and the Good Mother both stopped and looked up, surprised.
Britta stood next to them, the Ruger in both hands, pointing directly at the assassin.
The gun quivered in Britta’s hands.
Please let her be a good shot, was all Jaime could think.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” said the other woman. “Let me show you how it’s done.”
And the assassin broke free from Jaime and lurched again for the gun.
“It’s all about my son!” screamed Britta, and Jaime saw her close her eyes as she pumped three bullets into the chest of the Good Mother.
The assassin went limp in the snow.
Jaime lurched forward and surveyed the situation. One woman lay dead in the snow. Another sat next to her, head bowed, weapon in her hand.
So the assassin was dead. But had they gotten there in time?
In the other direction, Jaime could see the young brown-haired boy kneeling in the snow by something—no, someone—stretched out on the ground.
As she approached the boy, she saw. Her worst nightmare.
It was Daniel, lying in the snow. Even in the darkness she could see how pale he was. The teen’s eyes were open, barely. The smaller boy was sitting beside him, speaking with him.
Jaime spoke in a voice as calm and reassuring as she could possibly muster. “Daniel, it’s me: Jaime Richards. Your dad sent me to find you.”
She unzipped his jacket and pulled it back to get a look at the damage, causing Daniel to cry out. “I’m sorry,” she said.
She found a clean entry wound in front, then reached around his back, and her hand came away very bloody. The exit wound was large, and beneath him in the snow she could see that he had already lost an incredible amount of blood.
Jaime quickly glanced over at the wreck of the snowmobile but realized that even if it had been operable, he was in no shape to be jostled over the rough ground. Even if she had a car, she guessed they couldn’t have reached a hospital in time to stop the bleeding. Her gaze then fell upon the other boy, Daniel’s friend, and she knew from his puffy, red eyes that he recognized the gravity of the situation.
As Jaime searched for something to say, Britta approached from behind and put her hand on her son’s shoulder. He shrugged her off angrily and refused to look at her. She did not seem surprised or upset by this, but with both hands on one arm, gently pulled him to his feet and drew him away to speak with him. It was obvious that he did not want to leave Daniel’s side, but he locked eyes with Jaime, who nodded that it would be OK. His friend was not alone.
Jaime turned to give Daniel her full attention.
“Am I gonna die?” he said softly, sounding much younger than his 15 years.
Jaime hesitated for a moment, tempted to play down the seriousness of the situation. She’d been trained to be with soldiers who were dying on the battlefield or in the hospital, and she knew she needed to give him permission to ready himself during his last minutes in this life.
“We’ll get help as fast as we can, but you’re hurt pretty bad. It could be that you’re going to die, yes.” She grabbed the boy’s hand closest to her and held it in both of hers. “But I’m here with you, no matter what.”
Dear God. This was hard enough when it was a young soldier, a stranger, but this was Daniel, the boy she’d promised Abe Derry she’d bring home.
She’d promised.
Jaime wanted to call on the Voice to help soothe Daniel, to calm him, but she was not calm herself. Yet she knew that if ever in her life she needed to be emotionally strong, it was at this moment. Right now, it wasn’t about Abe and it wasn’t about her. She was here to help Daniel. God had placed her in this time and this moment to help him, and she had better not blow it.
“I’m scared. Where will I go when I die?”
“Daniel, I won’t pretend to have all the answers. I don’t know exactly what the afterlife is like, although it must be wonderful. Jesus said he himself was going to prepare a place for us, and he said that in his Father’s house were many mansions. I can’t wait. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
She was fighting back the tears but knew it was a losing battle.
“Will I see my family again?”
Jaime ran a hand across his forehead, pushing the hair back out of his eyes. “This I know, deep in my heart, where nobody can shake it. Nothing, not even death, can separate you from God’s love, or from your family’s love.”
“But I want to tell my dad, I’m sorry, I’ve screwed up and disappointed him so many times.”
This brought a slight smile. “Disappointed? Daniel, wonderful Daniel, you have no clue the depth of the love your father has for you, how important you are to him. He told me that from the moment you were born, he knew you were the one who was like him, the one in whom he saw himself so clearly. He said that’s why he gave you the middle name of Isaac, Abraham’s beloved son.
“Besides, we’re all screwups! That’s not the point. Your father loves you. And if you multiply that a gazillion times, you might just know how much God loves you, too. That is why I know that death is a beginning, not an end, and whatever is waiting for you is very, very good.”
“Jaime,” he whispered. It was obviously getting hard for him to talk. “It’s dumb, but… there’s a bracelet… Kay Jewelers… mall… for Janel.”
“Janel. She’ll get it. I promise.”
Daniel smiled, in response to her,
but in response to something else also, something unseen except to him. It was the calmest, most peaceful smile Jaime had ever seen on the young teen’s face. His eyes were getting heavier, and his grip on her hand was loosening.
“My mom. Love her. And Zeke, and Sarah.”
“They know. But I’ll make sure and tell them again. Daniel,” Jaime said quietly. “You are now heading out on a grand adventure, so I ask, is there anything you’d like to hear right now to help you along the way?”
“I always liked that shepherd thing they taught us in Sunday school.”
“Me, too.” It truly was one of her favorite Bible passages. “‘The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.… ’” At first she could see his lips moving with the words as she recited them out loud. But soon she felt him stop shivering and become still.
“‘Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life. And I will dwell in the house of the Lord, forever.’”
Her tears flowed freely, and she made no attempt to stop them. Britta’s son returned to stand beside her. He saw that his friend was gone and bowed his head as Jaime began to pray.
February 27, 2006, 5:46 a.m.
Bromma Airport
Stockholm, Sweden
* * *
“Come, we’re ready for takeoff,” Aeolus said to Jaime, taking her hand and leading her from the black Volvo toward the open door of the familiar Gulfstream. Stockholm’s smaller Bromma Airport opened at 5:30 a.m., and it was clear Aeolus had every intention of being one of the first planes out.
The last hours had been horrible. There was no other word that came close to describing them. The Swedish police had arrived not long after Daniel died, apparently alerted by a call from the FBI at the Derrys’ home, and quickly taken charge.
Costas, who’d driven both Jaime and Yani from the airport, had suddenly shown up at Jaime’s side, and no one in authority had questioned him as he’d taken Jaime quickly from the scene. Apparently her dismissal had been cleared at a higher level.
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