Even though she couldn’t possibly do it, there was absolutely no way she could make the call, Jaime would never forgive herself if Abe and Eirene heard about their son’s death from anyone but her. Her fingers trembled so badly that she had trouble hitting the small numbers on Costas’s cell phone and had to start again three times. Finally, the call went through. Forget death notification protocol. Forget any protocol. When Jaime heard Abe’s voice on the other end, she started to cry. “Sir, it’s Jaime,” she said.
“He didn’t make it, did he?” was the father’s response.
Jaime held herself together until the end of the call. Then she made Costas stop the Volvo, so she could get out and vomit in the snow at the side of the road.
Now, as she climbed the silver steps to the aircraft, she wondered again about Yani. She hadn’t seen him since he had gotten the large nurse, Dolph, out of their way in the kitchen. She knew on this assignment Yani was the unseen, but how could he just vanish? Had something happened to him as well?
The curtains on the plane’s windows were all drawn, and the moment Jaime put her second foot onto the interior floor of the aircraft, Costas pulled the door shut behind her. “Buckle in, please.”
Jaime fell into the closest seat and numbly pulled the buckle together. She hardly noticed as the jet taxied and took off. It was still dark outside. It seemed like it had been dark forever and it would be dark forevermore.
Her exhaustion was complete. But she would never try to sleep. She knew she couldn’t.
The assassin, whoever she was, was dead. As were the guards at the compound and one of the captives. The police had given them the news that the other kidnapped kids had made it safely across the bridge and off the island. Only Daniel had died.
How could that be?
“He stayed with me,” Britta’s son kept saying. “He stayed with me.”
It was clear her son was having some sort of episode or seizure, and they’d let Britta take him back into the house out of the cold. But she did so with an armed guard. It seemed she wasn’t going anywhere in the near future.
“Jaime. I’m sorry about Daniel.”
The voice was so quiet that Jaime wasn’t sure at first that it was actually Yani. She turned around and saw him in one of the backseats, facing the rear.
“Come here,” he said gently.
She stood up, closed the cockpit door, and walked back to where he awaited her. “I can’t believe it ended like this,” she said, the taste of bile still in her throat.
“I know.” He ran his hand through her hair. “I’m sorry.”
“Where were you?” she demanded. “If you’d been there, there might have been a different outcome! If we’d had someone there, Daniel might not have died!”
“Hey.” He put two fingers under her chin. “We did have someone there. You.”
“No, don’t put it on me. I can’t stand it if it’s all my fault,” she said. And she asked again, “Where were you?”
“I was completing the primary mission,” he said. “We were successful, Jaime. I know it doesn’t feel like it to you just now, but the primary mission was a success, and we saved four out of five captives in our secondary mission.”
He tapped the seat next to him, and she sat down. “Are you serious?” she asked. “That’s like saying the shuttle blew up, but at least the seats were comfortable.”
He held something out to her. It was small and circular. She opened her palm, and he dropped it on her hand.
It was a ring, a silver band encircled by four panels of lapis lazuli.
“What is this?” she asked.
“It’s a first mission ring. All Operatives get them upon successful completion of their first mission.”
“You keep calling it successful. Are you crazy? I’ve never felt more of a failure in my life. Or is it because you weren’t the one who had to call the person she respects most in this world and tell him she watched his son die? Whatever. I don’t want the damn ring.”
“It’s yours, to do with as you like.”
She wished she could open the window in a grand gesture and throw the ring down into the sea.
“In case you’re curious, Greek authorities have arrested Witgard Villella, Constantine, and their accomplices,” Yani said.
Jaime looked over at him. She had never really seen him looking tired before, but he looked tired now. It wasn’t surprising, given his recent injury.
“You have courage and compassion, intelligence and stamina,” he said. “The one thing you don’t have yet, which comes only with time, is perspective.”
“I will never have a perspective in which watching Daniel Derry die is counted success.”
“Do you have any doubt where Daniel is now?” Yani asked.
She took a deep breath. “I have confidence,” she said. “But do you have any doubt that his parents and siblings will be in hell for the next couple of years?” she asked.
“They’re gardeners,” he said. “They have perspective.”
“They don’t have a son!” she hissed. He could be so infuriating. He could seem so callous.
“Wait a minute. I thought saving the captives was our primary objective,” she said, suddenly realizing what he’d said.
“Secondary,” Yani said. “And very important.”
“So what was our primary objective?”
“Finding and either capturing or destroying the research. It was done.”
“So that’s why you couldn’t be with me to save Daniel? You were looking for research?”
“Yes. That’s right.”
“And why didn’t I know about this? Was I not your partner?” Her voice was rising, but she didn’t care. She was sick of him leaving her out of the loop.
“Jaime. As I said, you have courage and compassion. But it was a Level Two objective, and you only have Level One clearance. I couldn’t tell you.”
“And even now I can’t know? What was in the research that was such a secret? And why would people from Eden keep secrets from each other to begin with?”
“All things are revealed in time,” Yani replied.
“So I nearly die, several times, and the best you can do is spout fortune-cookie sayings at me?” To say Jaime’s look was incredulous was an understatement.
“Well with completion of this mission, with the receiving of the ring, you have actually achieved Level Two status. So how about I spout Bible verses? Or, better yet, why don’t you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your favorite book. Genesis. According to the story, why does God put a Sword to guard the entrance to Eden?”
“What? I don’t know. So no one else will eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil and become like God?”
“No. Good try, though, typical answer. But if you read carefully, it’s quite explicit: “The man has now become like one of us, knowing good and evil. He must not be allowed to reach out his hand and take also from the tree of life and eat, and live forever.” So the Lord God banished him from the Garden of Eden to work the ground from which he had been taken. He drove out the man and he placed at the east side of the Garden of Eden cherubim and a flaming Sword flashing back and forth to guard the way to the tree of life.”
“And we’re discussing this because… ?”
“Supposing there was a place where the water was pure, where there were no carcinogens in the air. People ate a diet of fresh fruits and vegetables, and fish with no mercury. Supposing these people enjoyed physical activity and knew how to live without stress. And supposing that, after thousands of years, their DNA adapted to that environment. That’s what happens in any species. Suppose it became a physical trait that allowed these people to live longer, healthier lives. Nothing miraculous, just life, and physics, the way God intended.”
Jaime was staring at him, simply staring. It was something at which she was becoming quite good. “So you’re saying there really is a ‘tree of life.’ That there’s something in E
den dwellers’ DNA that allows them to live forever.”
“Not forever,” Yani replied. “Of course not. But longer and healthier. There are markers in the DNA that have become identifiable—and Britta Sunmark had found them. Jorgen Edders never would have talked of it in his right mind, but apparently as his tumor progressed, he wasn’t always aware of where he was or to whom he was speaking. Even so, there are very few people in the world who could have understood what he was talking about, let alone understood the implications of isolating and recombining these markers. Unfortunately, Britta Sunmark was one of them.”
Jaime sat, pondering what he’d said. “Of course, it’s very wrong to go around kidnapping people for any reason. And killing them is very bad indeed. But what if she’d gone about it another way? What would be so wrong with Terris scientists finding this marker? Couldn’t it help a lot of people?”
“There are parts to your question. To answer the first part: Scientists in Eden are working to recombine the DNA in ways that can be brought out to the Terris world and introduced without raising eyebrows. Because, you see, there’s no way for Terris scientists to find the marker without finding the specific group of people who carry it. It would become a larger version of what Patsy Covington, the kidnapper, was sent on: a worldwide witch hunt for gardeners, or those descended from Eden dwellers on their mother’s side. Britta was right, it’s passed along through the mitochondrial DNA, through the mother.”
“Dear God. So this whole thing, this ‘primary objective,’ was about covering our asses. It was about people from Eden keeping secrets from the Terris world—secrets that could save thousands of lives or heal hundreds of diseases.”
“The time will be right, Jaime. It isn’t yet.”
“Why was this kept a secret even from me? I’ve been to Eden. Why did no one mention it?”
“There’s a sequence in which information is disseminated. It’s no big secret keeping. It’s mostly to keep new arrivals from freaking out under information overload.”
“So Eden dwellers live longer and healthier—”
“Especially in Eden,” he inserted. “Once they choose to live in the Terris world, with its stresses and pollution, somehow the marker remains intact in the DNA, but the life span is shortened.”
“So, please tell me, in English, the upshot of what you’re saying.”
“Your relatives in Eden were looking pretty good,” he said. “Considering their ages.”
It started to sink in. The relatives she’d met, many of them from previous generations, yes, they’d seemed old… but not nearly as old as they must have actually been.
“Could you give me a for-instance on this?”
“Kristof Remen. The gentleman you met three years ago. How old did you guess him to be?”
“He was pretty spry, but I guessed around eighty.”
“One hundred and thirty-nine.”
“That can’t be true.”
“You know he’d been a Sword and retired. You can’t begin to train as an Operative until you’re thirty; you can’t be commissioned until you’re thirty-five. You must be an Operative for thirty years before you’re even considered to be a Sword. And then the usual term as a Sword is thirty years—not because you’re getting physically too old but because of the high stress levels. Kristof had done all those things, and had lived in retirement, both inside and outside Eden, for many years.”
“And this is what we were so afraid of the folks in the Terris world finding out. That our DNA is stronger, but we won’t share.”
“We will share, Jaime, but in ways that will seem like logical next steps to outside researchers.”
She closed her eyes. “Why is talking to you often as difficult as dealing with the bad guys? This is a lot to take in.”
Tired as she was, it didn’t take long for the next question to hit her.
“So, Operative at thirty-five, Sword at sixty-five—usually for a thirty-year term, if you don’t quit. How old are you, anyway?”
“I was waiting for you to ask. I’m eighty-nine.”
Eighty-nine! She thought again of his body, so sculpted and perfect, and young. Well, apparently not young.
“And you weren’t going to tell me? You were going to let me fall in love with you, go crazy with wanting you, and not mention we have an age difference?”
“The first time you asked, I told you,” he said quietly. “And you know what? You’re not the only one who’s risked something. I gave up being a Sword. Which meant a lot to me.”
Jaime knew that in his understated way he was really saying which meant everything to me.
“I never asked you to give it up! I never would have asked you to give it up!” she said fiercely. Dear God, is everything that has gone horribly wrong my fault?
“I know. That’s why I made the decision on my own. And no matter what happens between us, it was the right decision. It was worth the risk to me, what might have been.”
What might have been. Past tense. So he knew. Somehow he knew she couldn’t continue.
Any of it.
“None of this is what I thought it was,” she finally said. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I can’t be an Operative for a group of people who lie—OK, OK—who withhold information. Who think death is an acceptable price for success. I can’t do it.”
They both sat silent. Finally she asked, “I don’t suppose you can alter the flight plan to land in Germany and let me off.”
He shook his head. “You had a four-day pass. You spent it in Athens, on a nice holiday.”
More lies. “So when I go back to my continued debriefing, how do I explain that I left in high spirits and I return shaken and depressed?”
“The son of your dear friend died.”
In my arms. He died in my arms.
“You’re really quitting?” Yani asked. “You don’t want to take time to think?”
“No. There’s not a flicker of doubt in my mind. Not a flicker. I’m going back to a life of peace and quiet in the Army. I’m spending time with my Terris-based family. Or even with the goat herders. I really liked them.”
Now that the decision was made, she felt peace. She was no longer in a flinging mood. She handed him back the ring.
“Thanks anyway. See you around.”
Yani shook his head. “No, actually, you won’t.”
It was one of those times they were talking so plainly and succinctly about the truth, about important things, that it felt natural for Jaime to add, “Since we won’t see each other anymore… I did love you. And I’m grateful for that. I thought I might never fall in love again.”
Jaime thought he might say something in response. But neither of them spoke again until they landed in Greece. And then he was gone.
Epilogue
March 5, 2006, 2:30 p.m.
Theodore Roosevelt Island
Arlington, Virginia
* * *
“‘…for the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of the water of life, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.’”
Jaime closed her Bible and slowly surveyed the setting where she and a small group of family and friends had assembled to celebrate the life of Daniel Derry. They were gathered in a memorial park built on an island to honor Teddy Roosevelt. Since the twenty-sixth president was known as a conservationist and outdoorsman, the site was appropriately woodsy and could not be reached by motor traffic.
After Daniel had discovered this island while biking down the Mount Vernon Trail, he had made it a point to eat his lunch there whenever his weekend cycling excursions brought him that way. At the center of the island was a clearing where a hiker or biker would find a statue of Roosevelt, as well as a large, cauldron-shaped fountain.
It was by that fountain that the group had gathered, on this brisk March afternoon, with the temperature reaching into the fifties and sun filtering down through the trees. Daniel’s mother, Eirene, had brought a
tabletop easel with a photo of him taken during a session for their family’s last Christmas card. The photographer had caught both Daniel’s shy smile and the depth and sparkle behind his eyes.
Jaime’s eyes were dry. She had cried enough over the last week that she was certain there was nothing left. But there were still many tears being shed by the group. The Derry family was just beginning to surface from the shock of their loss.
But the Derrys were also surprised and touched by the guests who were gathered with them for this service. While they had kept it small, only family and close friends, several new friends had asked to be included. When Jaime had given people the chance to say something about Daniel or to share a memory, the first to step forward was Jimi Afzal, who stood by Inaba Mikelti.
“Daniel was a leader, a great leader,” Jimi said. “It was he who organized our escape. If it hadn’t been for him, none of us would be standing here now.” With a wave, Jimi included Ryan Stevens, who stood huddled with his family, as well as Inaba, who smiled and shifted An Bao on her hip.
Jimi and Inaba had spent the last week working with the Chinese consulate, seeking permission for Inaba to bring An Bao back to her family in China. At first it had seemed hopeless, but when Abe Derry called a friend at the State Department, suddenly doors were opened. Inaba’s visa had been approved and a flight was arranged for the next day.
Eric Carlson stood with his father, whose arm was draped casually yet protectively over his son’s shoulder. His mother had been taken into custody by the Swedish police, and David Carlson had flown immediately to Stockholm to bring his son back to the States.
Eric had looked frightened to step forward, but Jaime could tell he wanted to, and she nodded her encouragement.
“Daniel was my friend,” he said, a quaver in his voice. “We were all running away, and I began to have one of my migraines, and he stayed with me. If he hadn’t, I know I would have fainted in the woods—we were off the path—and no one would have found me for a long time. I might have frozen to death. But… if he hadn’t stayed with me, she wouldn’t… he wouldn’t…” Eric did begin to cry then, and his dad had hugged him tight.
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