Nest

by Terry Goodkind

  “Yes, AJ told me that when they brought them in, they found out that everything was exactly as I had told her.”

  Jack stared at her briefly. “You can’t do that.”

  Kate was alarmed by the concern in his eyes. “What do you mean, I can’t do it? I just told you I did. You’re the one who came to find me because I can identify murderers by looking at their eyes.”

  “Know that they are a murderer, yes, but that’s all. You can only tell that they’re a killer. You can’t tell anything else by looking into their eyes.”

  “Yes I can,” she insisted.

  Just then, two muffled shots rang out in quick succession, almost together.

  Jack put his hand behind her head and protectively pulled her toward him. “That’s air marshals.”

  An instant later, another shot.

  Jack looked toward the Air France gate.

  Kate looked back, too. Stewards ran out of the jetway, the pilots and flight crew right on their heels.

  Before they were clear of the jetway, an explosion ripped a hole the size of a truck in the side of the plane back near the tail. Flying debris from the plane blew out all the windows of the Air France gate and several the next gate over.

  Pandemonium erupted as glass flew through the crowds of screaming people.

  A human head attached to the upper portion of a bloody spinal cord landed on the rows of blue chairs in the waiting area.

  Chunks of debris skated and skipped across the floor, knocking a few people down as smoke rolled in through the broken windows. It seemed like everyone was screaming and running. The tail of the plane, lifted a little by the explosion, settled down at a crooked angle.

  The two air marshals stumbled out of the jetway, both covered in blood.

  Men with long guns forced their way upstream as most people parted to make way. Other men ran in with dogs on leashes. Police appeared, directing panicked people back away from the area. The passengers who had been waiting to board scattered. Everyone in the terminal started running, a good many of them screaming.

  Jack circled his arm around Kate’s waist and started her walking back the way they had come, moving her into the river of people going the way they were being directed by police.

  “Like I told you,” he said, “the place is going to be evacuated.”

  “Like I told you,” Kate said, “the guy had a bomb.”

  He looked down at her. His face hadn’t regained its color. “You just saved several hundred lives.”

  Kate frowned at his odd expression. “Did I just also do something that you didn’t think I should be able to do?”

  “You sure as hell did.”

  CHAPTER

  FIFTY-FOUR

  Jack pointed. “There.”

  Kate craned her neck and saw an older, lanky man in a black suit, standing in a line with other men of every size, shape, and color dressed in similar black suits and white shirts, all holding up a piece of paper or an iPad with a name on it. The lanky man’s iPad said “Raines.”

  They followed the limo driver through the airport outside to a shiny black SUV standing at a curb in a limousine-only area. The streets and parking looked like they were all too small to accommodate the volume of modern life. After hours of looking out at an empty sky and soft layers of clouds, it felt strange to be hemmed in by the hard shapes of buildings and congested streets packed with traffic.

  Shannon Blare, Jack’s editor, had arranged for the limo to pick them up. She had told Jack that she was eager to see him the following day. In the meantime, she said that she insisted on getting them a beautiful suite near Gramercy Park, which she said was one of the most lovely spots in the city. Kate was just relieved to be away from places where she was being hunted.

  Shannon Blare told Jack she was looking forward to meeting the young lady he brought with him, having been at least somewhat responsible for them meeting since she had been the one who put AJ in contact with Jack.

  It felt good to sit at last in the relative quiet of the backseat. It was nice to have someone else drive and negotiate the heavy traffic. The hours of jet engine noise had been tiring, leaving Kate with a dull headache. Fortunately, the flight had been routine.

  It had taken two days before O’Hare Airport was cleared to reopen. Airline schedules were struggling to get back to normal, and they had been fortunate to catch another flight. Kate had been relieved to finally make it out of Chicago.

  While waiting for a flight, they had stayed in a hotel near the airport. Jack hadn’t wanted to take any chances, so he had used another fake ID. They had killed the time with hours of practice lipstick fights, room service, and a few long conversations. It felt good to talk with him about nothing of any particular importance.

  The hotel, being near the airport, was noisy. In a way Kate longed for the quiet of her job at KDEX. It was nerve-racking not knowing how long her “vacation” was going to last.

  The almost continual news about the bombing at the airport had been filled with inaccuracies. Most of it was the usual careless reporting spiced with speculation, but Kate suspected that some of it was wrong for security reasons. The bomb, for instance, was reported to have been in the bomber’s backpack. No mention was ever made of it being surgically implanted in the man’s abdomen.

  Kate had no doubt about that part of it. Jack’s contact in the Mossad had confirmed that she was right. They were very interested in this new “subject” he had located. Jack had promised that one day he would introduce them.

  Excuses and explanations for the failure in security were continually being given out. Congressmen were outraged. The president spoke on the “tragedy.” He announced the formation of an investigative committee and called for Congress to act to increase the TSA budget. There was very little actual information in any of the reports. They watched almost no TV after the initial reports.

  The two air marshals were both hospitalized in serious condition. One had lost an eye; both were expected to live. There were numerous stories about how, because of the “placement” of the bomb, the plane’s hydraulic and electrical systems were compromised in a way that, had the plane been airborne, would have resulted in a crash, killing all on board. Kate knew by what she saw that had it happened in the air, the plane would have lost the entire tail section. Had it happened over the ocean, it was possible that wreckage wouldn’t be found and no one would have known the reason the plane went down.

  News accounts said that authorities had been alerted by a “tip,” and that was all that had prevented a horrific tragedy.

  Kate had trouble reconciling the fact that because of her, that crash had never happened, and all those lives had not been lost. While the whole thing in a way didn’t seem real, it did help make up for how her ability had turned her life upside down. A lot of good people were still alive. A killer was dead.

  An Islamic terror group claimed responsibility and promised more such attacks against aircraft. In those promises Kate saw the inexorable movement of the pendulum.

  During those two days waiting in the hotel to get another flight, Jack had questioned her in detail. Kate had thought that what she had done at the airport, just like what she had done with the photos of the husband-and-wife killers AJ had shown her, was simply part of the same ability she had to recognize a killer by seeing his eyes.

  Jack had assured her that it most certainly was not.

  At least, it was not a part of her ability as far as his experience with others had taught him. He said that what she had done was a complete unknown as far as he was concerned. Kate had no useful answers as to how she did it except that she just could.

  When she had looked into the man’s eyes, in that instant she had seen it all in his eyes. She didn’t know how, but with that single look she simply knew. It wasn’t something separate, like a scene from a movie streaming into her, it was simply something she knew in totality, like looking out of a window and taking in everything all at once.

  The only refe
rence to such an ability Jack knew of was in an eleventh-century text about a monk believed at the time to be a prophet. It was said that he identified murderers and at the same time revealed their crimes. Jack said that it was hard to know how much truth there was in such accounts, since so much of it involved superstition.

  As their limo made its way through the crowded streets, Kate couldn’t help but marvel at the endless, tightly packed buildings. The enormity of the city made Chicago seem like a small town. Even though it was getting dark, the city was awash with light. Windows filled with light rose all around. The city had a distinctive aroma, not unpleasant, but different from any other place she had been.

  It was rather amazing to see so many people, and to know that this was their home, the only home they knew, and that many of them had never seen anything else of America except on TV. In a way, the neighborhoods with stores and traffic and alive with crowds were exciting. They were life. They were civilization.

  “That’s Gramercy Park,” the limo driver said over his shoulder. “We will be to your hotel shortly.”

  Off to the left was a beautifully manicured park bordered by a black wrought-iron fence. Kate could see a statue standing in a circle in the center of the park. It was surrounded by wide paths and inviting green benches.

  “Can we go for a walk there?” Kate asked.

  “It’s a private park,” Jack said. “People who live around it pay an annual fee to be able to get in. Our hotel’s not far from here. They may have a key to allow guests to visit the park. If they do, we’ll go there tomorrow. All right?”

  Kate smiled as she nodded, looking out the window at all the people strolling along the sidewalk outside the wrought-iron fence and the green world within.

  Without thinking about it, Kate took hold of Jack’s hand as she gazed out the window at the city going endlessly past outside the limo window. Jack squeezed her hand.

  For the first time, a vacation was beginning to feel pretty good.

  CHAPTER

  FIFTY-FIVE

  “That’s really nice of you, Shannon,” Jack said on the phone as they stood near the check-in desk waiting for another couple to finish registering.

  “No, really, it’s all right. I understand. To tell you the truth we’re both pretty tired, anyway. It’s been a long day. I think we’d both rather get some sleep. Thanks again, Shannon…. All right, we will…. Yes. See you tomorrow, then.

  “She wanted to take us to a nice place for dinner,” Jack said as he returned the phone to his pocket, “but she has an appointment she can’t break.”

  Kate yawned. “Good. Honestly, I wasn’t really looking forward to going out to dinner and having to smile. It’s already getting late, especially on East Coast time.”

  Jack nodded his agreement. “To make up for it, she said she is having a special dinner sent up to our suite.”

  “Dinner in our room rather than a knife fight would be nice,” Kate said. Jack laughed.

  The lobby had a lot of white Carrara marble and frosted glass, warmed by the dark wood of the registration area. A young woman in a crisp gray uniform, her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, took Jack’s information. For once he gave his correct name and ID.

  The receptionist said that their two-bedroom suite had already been reserved for one week and it had already been paid for. Kate envisioned flopping down on the bed on her back and letting out a weary sigh.

  The bellhop brought their bags in from the limo, and put them on a cart. Jack let the man lead them up to the fifth floor. The bellhop told them about the hotel restaurant and several others in the area.

  The suite was less spacious than suites in other cities, but it looked cozy enough. There was a small central sitting area with two tufted wingback chairs at a small table near a window with floor-to-ceiling white sheers and gray drapes. The room was painted a strong but pleasant green. There were framed black-and-white photos of dancers on the walls.

  Jack suggested that Kate take the larger of the two bedrooms. It had mellow rose-colored walls, a bright blue velvet headboard, and a red throw on the white bedspread. The bellhop put her suitcase on the stand for her, and put Jack’s in the other bedroom. After Jack gave the man a tip, they were alone at last.

  Kate had been in her share of hotels, but this one was different. Spaces were smaller. It felt old. The noise of the city was a presence in the room, part of the feel of the place. Still, it was attractive and quite lovely. Mostly, Kate was tired of being in crowds, so it felt good to be alone. As tired as she was, she hoped Jack didn’t want to practice knife fighting.

  Jack appeared in the doorway to her bedroom. He had one of the phones they had bought at the electronics store.

  “Why don’t you keep one of these so that we have a backup with the same numbers. When we go out, we shouldn’t leave these in the room.”

  Kate put the phone in the back pocket of her jeans, then took out her two knives and clipped one inside each front pocket. She felt better having them on her.

  Before she had a chance to unpack anything, there was a knock at the door.

  It was a waiter with a white towel draped over one arm. He pushed a table into the room. It was set with silver-rimmed plates and oval dishes with silver covers.

  “Compliments of Ms. Blare,” the man said as he arranged the wingback chairs at the food cart.

  He lifted the lids, showing them a chicken casserole with baby potatoes around the edge and another serving dish with asparagus. He pointed out sherbet for dessert. He held a hand out toward two bottles of water.

  “Still, or sparkling?”

  Both Jack and Kate said still.

  “I’m so dry from being on the plane I think I could drink the whole bottle myself,” Kate said.

  The waiter smiled and bowed slightly. “If the lady would like more, there are extra bottles under the table.” He lifted the side of the white tablecloth to show her. He uncorked a bottle of wine and replaced it in the bucket with ice.

  “Will there be anything else at the moment?”

  “No, it’s more than enough and it looks delicious,” Jack said, handing the man a tip. “Thank you.”

  Once he was gone, the two of them both flopped down in the wingback chairs, opposite each other at the table.

  “I wish I was more hungry,” Kate said. “Mostly I’m just worn out.”

  Jack agreed. “Some food will give you some energy.”

  They both downed their glasses of water and Jack poured more. He also poured them each a little bit of wine.

  He held up his wineglass in a toast. “To the rest of your life.”

  Kate smiled and tapped his wineglass with hers. She took a sip and sat back. “Are you going to tell your editor everything about your new book? Everything you told me?”

  Jack shrugged. “I’ll tell her as much as I need to in order to make sure she’s interested enough. I’d rather have her read the manuscript when I’m done, but she needs a certain amount of information to do her job. Just kind of depends on how it goes. She knows that the central theme is how murder is part of our nature, and that already has her interest. She said that she loved the first book and they’re looking forward to publishing the second.”

  Jack poured himself another glass of water. Kate held hers out for a refill. As she drank it down, Jack put some chicken and a couple of little potatoes on a plate for her.

  Kate leaned back as she let out a heavy sigh, not realizing how tired she was from the long day. She didn’t know if she had the energy to pick up her fork.

  She saw Jack slump back in his wingback chair. She was having difficulty focusing her vision. Her head rolled to the side.

  She saw her glass slip from her hand to the floor. It didn’t seem to matter.

  The room closed in around her as she felt herself slipping away. A distant sense of terror tried to get her attention but dimmed to little more than a thick, incomprehensible whisper. She strained to remain conscious, but she could feel it fading
away from her.

  Everything was getting fuzzy. She blinked, trying to make her eyes focus. Something cast a shadow over her.

  A big hand slipped under her arm, lifting her. She was a rag doll, unable to react. She saw shapes ghosting into the room.

  “Good evening,” a gravelly voice said into her ear. “I’m Victor. My, my, but you’re a pretty one. You’re going to be the perfect star for my next show.”

  As her eyes rolled back, she briefly saw his eyes. They were the ice cold eyes of a killer.

  Kate’s world evaporated into nothingness.

  CHAPTER

  FIFTY-SIX

  Kate became dimly aware of light. Nothing made sense. A shadow passed over her. Her mind felt as if it were immersed in a deep, thick darkness. She made an effort to force herself to think. It didn’t produce much of anything, other than that she recognized the taste of blood in her mouth.

  Someone slapped her. It was hard enough to nearly knock her over. The shock of pain startled her. Her immediate reaction was to yell at them to stop it, but no yell would come out.

  The sting of the slap started to sharpen her senses back into focus a little. She realized that she was sitting, but for some reason she couldn’t move her arms. Her shoulders hurt.

  Her first thought was that she was paralyzed. She tried and was relieved to at least be able to move her fingers. But her arms remained trapped behind her. She couldn’t move them even a little.

  A second slap came out of nowhere. The force of it was hard enough to knock her and the chair over. Her head banged the floor, instantly giving her a headache.

  Someone leaned down and tipped the chair, with her attached to it, back up and planted it on the floor with a hard thump.

  “Wakey wakey. Sweet dream time is over.”

  She had heard that gravelly voice before, but couldn’t remember where.

  Kate squinted against the harsh light. Wherever she was, it was mostly dark all around her. The only light in the place was the one shining on her.

  Smelly hands reached in and squeezed her cheeks. “Smile for the camera.”