by Will Jordan
He turned to the small group. His team, his comrades, his friends. ‘Look, I never got a chance to say this properly until now, but … I know what you did to get me,’ he said, looking at each of them in turn. ‘I know the risks you took – each of you. I promise you I’ll never forget it.’
Frost said nothing, but appeared strangely moved by his words. The normally fiery and strong-willed young woman glanced away for a moment, and he saw the muscles in her throat tightening.
Keegan grinned. ‘You gettin’ soppy in your old age, Ryan?’
Drake couldn’t help but smile. ‘I’m working on it.’
He glanced over at Jessica again. She was waiting for him, and he was eager to speak with her.
‘I’ll see you all soon,’ he promised.
He was just walking away when Dietrich spoke up. ‘Hey, Ryan.’
Drake stopped and turned around. To his surprise, Dietrich held out his hand. ‘I was wrong about you,’ he said, no trace of hesitation or deception in his eyes now. ‘You’re a better man than I thought.’
Drake said nothing as they shook hands. There was no need. The look in his eyes said it all.
‘That being said, I’m not eager to work with you again,’ Dietrich added with a wry smile. ‘You’re a dangerous man to be around.’
Drake couldn’t hide a grin of his own. ‘I’m working on that, too.’ He released his grip. ‘I’ll see you around, Jonas.’
Excusing himself, he skirted the edge of the pool to join his sister.
He got to within about 20 feet before she rushed forward and threw her arms around him in a fierce display of affection. He returned the gesture in equal measure, almost as if to assure himself that she really was whole and safe.
‘You’re looking well,’ she began, looking him up and down. ‘Much better than the last time I saw you, at least.’
In truth, they had seen little of each other since their evacuation from Iraq. After being debriefed by an Agency team, Jessica had flown back to the UK to be reunited with her husband and two children. She had been there for the past ten days, only arriving in Washington a few hours earlier to meet with him.
Typical of the intelligence community, her sudden disappearance had been covered up with an outright lie about her being taken into protective custody after hoax threats were made against her brother.
Later, in private and well away from their two children, she had told her husband the truth about what had happened.
Drake had heard little of the reaction from him or the rest of the family, but he gathered he wasn’t exactly flavour of the month back home. Some things never changed.
‘Rest and relaxation seems to agree with me,’ he replied, grinning. One advantage of his enforced leisure time was that he’d finally gotten round to unpacking all those boxes scattered around his house. Better late than never, he supposed.
‘So how did it go with Dan?’ she asked.
‘Well, they’re not planning to send me to Guantanamo Bay.’
She smiled. ‘That’s a relief. Orange really isn’t your colour.’
However, her smile faded when she saw the look in his eyes.
‘You’re not coming home, are you?’
He sighed and looked away, saying nothing. She knew already.
Jessica too was silent for a time, searching for a way to express herself. ‘Ryan, I know there were always … things about your work that you didn’t talk about. I knew you were trying to protect me, but I’ve seen it for myself now. I’ve seen what you do, the things you have to live with.’
‘You never should have been put in that position,’ he said. ‘I tried to keep all that away from you.’
He felt her hand on his, soft and warm and reassuring. ‘You don’t have to apologise. I know why you do the things you do, and I know why you’re staying behind. I wish you weren’t, but I understand why you are. You have a job to do.’
She hadn’t said it out loud, but he sensed a change in her then. A gulf, a divergence in their two lives. He ached to return with her to the UK, but they belonged to different worlds now. He could visit hers, at least for a while, but he could never truly be a part of it. Not any more.
And as for his own world, inhabited by people like Anya and Cain, their conflicts and struggles for power, the future remained undecided.
He couldn’t help but remember Munro’s words to him that night before they crossed the border; how he knew about Operation Hydra, and how there was more to Drake’s court martial and discharge than he’d ever been told. Had the man really known something he didn’t, or had he merely been trying to provoke him? As with many things that had happened over the past few weeks, Drake felt as though he had more questions than answers.
All he could say for certain was that he was alive, he had survived, and he intended to do what he could to make things right.
‘But I’m afraid for you. I’m afraid you might end up like all those others.’ She swallowed and looked down for a moment, composing herself. ‘I love you, and I don’t want to lose you.’
For a moment, he caught himself wondering if Anya had ever found herself in this position, caught at a crossroads in life with no clear way forward. He wondered if she had ever thought about leaving it all behind, if she had made that conscious choice to keep going, or whether there had even been a choice to make. Perhaps there was no escaping who and what she was.
She might not have had that choice, but he did. Right here and now.
And he knew right here and now what his choice would be. Maybe he’d always known.
‘You won’t,’ he said quietly. ‘I was given a second chance, Jess. I’m not going to waste it.’
He heard her faint sigh, her sad acceptance of what she’d known all along. ‘So what will you do with this second chance?’
He thought once more about Anya. She had lived her life without fear, without hesitation, and without compromise. No matter what the cost.
‘My job,’ he answered at last. ‘Maybe that’s enough.’
You know your problem, Ryan? You’re a good man.
He smiled as he stared out across the city.
We’ll see.
Acknowledgements
There was a time when I, rather naively, believed novel writing to be a solitary business. However, my experiences with this book have taught me that taking a story from a vague idea to the finished product involves the work and creative energies of countless individuals, many of whom receive little recognition.
In particular are three people I wish greatly to thank. First and foremost, my agent Diane Banks for representing me, for believing in me, and in turn helping me believe in myself. Second, my editor Kate Burke, who took a chance on an unpublished author (an increasingly rare thing these days), and whose advice has been greatly appreciated. And last, but by no means least, my wife Susan, who endured many nights of me locking myself in the office to write, and whose support meant more than I ever admitted.
To each of you, my thanks and my gratitude.
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Copyright © 2012 by Will Jordan
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