"You're hurt," said Elena, concern in her eyes.
"No I'm not," said Jason.
"Yes, you are. Here." She withdrew a handkerchief from her pocket, touched it to his lips.
"Ow!"
"See?" Blood spotted it. He took it from her and dabbed at it until the blood faded.
"What you did was—amazing—foolish—but I have never seen anyone stand up to them like that." Her eyes gleamed with astonishment and admiration.
"Someone needed to."
"Well, I guess it is because you are an outsider. You see things—you can do things—we cannot. But…there will be consequences."
"I'm beginning to see that." He smiled ruefully. What had gotten into him? Had he thought he could confront the whole Muldavian army, with the might of the state behind it? He could just imagine what Tasha would say.
Tasha. He needed to get back to her. And the others.
Something horrifying struck him. What if he'd blown their cover? Not just his and Tasha's, but the resistance cell's?
If he'd blown the others' cover—he couldn't just leave them hanging without making it up somehow. But for now, he had to find out a way to get out of here.
"Cash," Elena said.
"It's Jason."
"Jason. Jay-son." She tested the name on her lips. "I think you will have to leave the country. And I think I will have to come with you."
"Come with me?"
"I helped you."
So, the consequences were already multiplying. He'd affected this young woman's life profoundly, all because she'd decided to help him. But in what messed up world did helping someone put you in danger? Everything here was upside-down. Those who tried to change it were driven to the margins, crushed.
"I have to find Tasha. I don't want to endanger the others though."
She pursed her lips. "I think I can help you with that."
"You've already helped me more than you needed to. I mean—I'm glad you did." He touched her arm. She looked up at him, eyelashes shadowing her slightly flushed cheeks. An image of Gloria flashed across the back of his mind; he turned from her, looked out the glass-less window at the rain, lightening slightly beneath the gray sky.
"I'll go get Tasha for you," Elena said, voice firm with determination.
"You can't." He faced her again. "It's too dangerous."
"I'm good at finding my way. You can't deny that." The dimple reappeared in her cheek. Before he could protest any further, she had waved goodbye, and slipped out into the rain.
He felt awful letting her risk herself for him. But he didn't want to mess things up worse than he already had. Elena was probably better off on her own; she could probably reach Tasha faster without him, and with less of a risk of being seen.
He dreaded what Tasha would say once she reached him. What he had done had seemed like the right thing at the time, but now he was not so sure.
Perhaps Tasha would have an idea of what to do next….She always seemed to. Jason sat back against the wall, listening to the rain on the metal roof, wishing he had his gun with him—anything—to defend himself against the soldiers if they arrived.
J
In the back room of the Vanguard headquarters, Tasha paced back and forth beneath the spinning fan. This morning, she thought, when we set up the transmitter, I should have contacted Donovan and asked to override Jason's seniority. But would that have made any difference? Jason still wouldn't have listened to me. He just went ahead and blew our cover, no thought for the consequences. Can't he get it through his mind that what we do here will help this nation in the long run? Actions like that only make things worse. At least we've set up the transmitter. We've accomplished our primary objective. Now, we have to see if we can get out of this alive.
If we do, I'm not sure what kind of a future Jason can expect. He's too volatile for the field; it must not have shown up during training. You need a certain amount of adventurousness to be a spy, but that amount of recklessness is…out of hand. Now that we know, we can keep him off the field—and keep him alive.
When Jason had fought the soldier, Munroe wisely held Tasha back, keeping her from guilt by association. Tasha's first thought, however, hadn't been for the mission; it had been for Jason's safety. He was fighting a soldier in full view of the Premier of Muldavia—did he have a death wish? But then, she'd seen him standing in the rain, hair drenched, shirt plastered to his skin. She forgot what that moment would mean for the mission; he had defeated an enemy soldier singlehandedly, and that was all that mattered.
The door opened. Tasha prepared to run; she had no illusions that this place was safe—or that any place in Rakima was safe from Zahl and his secret police.
Dana stepped through the door; she walked up to Tasha. Tucked a strand of short auburn hair behind her ear. "Someone is bringing your things from the hotel."
"Isn't that dangerous?"
"Yes, but less so than you going there yourself."
"We could leave without our things well enough."
"Your journey out of Muldavia will be difficult. You'll need your things to help you on your way."
Tasha nodded. "Any word—"
"From Jason? No, not yet. Or Elena." Worry crossed Dana's brow. "I don't know what got into that girl—she's not normally so impulsive."
"Unlike Jason?"
"Well, he does not know the full implications of living in Muldavia. Which keeps him from being cautious enough."
I just think he's turned into a loose cannon, thought Tasha, but she didn't say it.
Dana handed Tasha a map. "We have the route that you'll probably take. North through Czechoslovakia may take longer than south into Austria, but the mountains will make it harder for them to follow you. Also, it's not as heavily guarded and land-mined. Munroe is looking into getting a transport to take you out of town. Calling in some favors with some of the Resistance."
"I hate to put all of you in danger."
Dana smiled grimly. "It's all in a day's work."
The door swung open. Elena appeared, soaked from head to toe. "Jason's waiting in a warehouse in the Old Quarter."
Tasha's heart leapt. He was safe. For now.
In a few minutes, two men arrived with Jason and Tasha's suitcases; Munroe arrived with the driver of the supply truck. Elena would go with them and show them where Jason was. At least, that's what Tasha assumed, until Elena started loading her own suitcase into the truck as it sat at the back entrance.
"You're coming with?" said Tasha.
"I helped Jason. If I stay here—"
"It's for the best," said Munroe. "We can officially say that you are abroad, visiting relatives. We'll watch to see if Zahl thinks you are a person of interest. As of right now—it's the safest course of action for you to disappear."
"Not to say your journey won't be dangerous," said Dana. She looked at Tasha. "You'll keep her safe, won't you?"
"Of course."
As Tasha gave Munroe a handshake in farewell, she glimpsed Saul shaking Elena's hand, lingering over it before he let go. She wondered if there was something between them; if Elena had feelings for Saul, then her flirtations with Jason were no more than that. Tasha couldn't help but feel a twinge of relief at the prospect, then she reprimanded herself. For the last time, she thought, Jason's romantic life is none of my concern.
Tasha climbed into the back of the truck; Elena climbed in after her, and they slipped in under the false bottom of the truck, where their luggage was already crammed. They had to lie flat on their backs, with barely enough room to breathe.
After winding through some streets, the truck stopped. A clunking sound of the back door opening, and footsteps clomped inside.
The floorboard opened up, and someone climbed in at Tasha's left. Jason.
"This should be fun," said Jason.
"Fun!" said Tasha. "You're the one—"
"Shh!" said Elena.
The truck stopped again to pick up the supplies that were the cover for the driver's visit out of town. Muffled voices conversed outside, and the floor creaked above them. After what sounded like several heavy boxes loaded in the back, the truck started up again, and switched to a higher gear as it drove out of town. The honks and cars and sirens of the city faded to the rumble of a gravel road.
Even though she knew they were not home free, Tasha breathed a sigh of relief. The worst was probably behind them. Now they'd have to endure an interminable ride in this cramped space.
Beside her, Jason moved, as if trying to get in a more comfortable position. He shoved his elbow against her arm.
"Cut it out!" said Tasha.
"Sorry." But he didn't stop moving.
"Can't you ever sit still?"
"I'm just—there's something sticking into my back right now."
"Deal with it. We wouldn't be here at all if it weren't for your antics. You had to show off, be the hero—"
"That's not why I did it."
"I know, you weren't thinking at all, were you? If there was ever a time to think before you act, that was it."
"I'm sorry. It's just that I hated to see that man arrested for something so trivial."
"We always come back to that, don't we? You can't get it through your head that we're helping in our own way. No, you have to jump in there and be a maverick, a cowboy. That's not how we get things done in the Agency. There's a certain amount of leeway, flexibility, but we also have to follow orders. Keep a low profile. Try, if at all possible, not blow our cover, and betray our allies."
"I know. You're right. In the heat of the moment, there was only one thing I could see. The injustice of the regime—and its consequences playing out in front of my eyes. I don't like to just…stand by. I need to do something. But I should have been more prudent, this time."
"Yes, well, it could have turned out worse. But I don't know, Jason. If we ever get back to civilization, you can be sure my report will be very thorough."
Elena cleared her throat. Tasha had almost forgotten her presence. "I know what he did was dangerous," said Elena. "But you, who have not lived here all your life, cannot understand what it felt like to see someone fighting back for a change. And even if it might hurt us all in the long run, he made a positive impact on at least one person today—the man that he saved from arrest. Just one pebble can start a landslide. That is something my father used to say." Sadness entered her voice; Tasha wondered what had happened to her father, whether he was a victim of this regime. Elena did often seem like an orphan, adrift, with few connections except those in the employ of the Vanguard.
The truck rumbled to a stop. Outside, sharp voices.
"What's going on?" said Jason.
"It's probably a roadblock," said Elena.
A moment later, the back of the truck opened. The driver spoke. "We are transporting wine to Zelise. Would you like a bottle for yourself and your men?"
"If I wanted to," said a harsh voice, "I could confiscate your entire cargo. But that's not what I'm here for. Zahl wants the American fugitives, Dorian Cash and Nora Baker, and the traitor who helped them, Elena Ford. He believes they have escaped the city. You are one of the only transports to leave Rakima since the alert. Care to explain that?"
"I am scheduled to be at Zelise within the hour, that's all."
"Then you wouldn't mind if I looked around a bit." A boot stomped the floor right over Tasha's face. "Seems solid. Still…you could have a secret compartment beneath this floor."
Tasha hardly dared to breathe. Beside her, Jason moved, clothes rustling. Be quiet! she wanted to yell at him.
A knife slid through a crack in the floorboards, trying to pry them up. Then it jabbed into Tasha's arm. She gasped, just able to stifle a cry.
The knife shoved through another crack to Tasha's right; Elena shrieked.
"Aha! We've caught our mouse." The man laughed. "Tell me how to open this thing."
"I can't."
"Tell me, or I'll shoot whoever's under here, and then I'll shoot you."
A creak, and the floor slid open, the driver's pale face looking down at them. Another man, pistol raised. "Well, well. I think I'm up for a promotion." Two more soldiers appeared and herded them out; the light glanced into Tasha's eyes, blinding her.
A soldier shoved her from behind, forcing her to kneel in the gravel, Elena, Jason and the driver lined up beside her.
A pistol nudged the back of Tasha's head.
Cold fear thrummed through her. So this is it, she thought. My first mission has gone awry…..I wonder if there's anything I could have done to salvage it.
And my life—there's so much I haven't done—and too much to regret…
"What do you have there?" said the head soldier, standing in front of Jason.
"A camera."
"Give it to me."
"Are you sure?"
"Give it to me, or I'll take it from you."
"Okay then. You asked for it."
The words had barely registered in Tasha's mind when a gunshot rang out. Tasha jumped. The soldier in front of Jason staggered, clutching his leg.
Jason caught Tasha's eyes. "Run," he said.
Tasha grabbed Elena's arm and ran as fast as she could toward the woods about 30 yards away. Gunshots ripped the air. Tasha tripped over a clump of grass, but Elena grasped her wrist, keeping her on her feet. When they reached the trees, Tasha risked a glance backwards. One of the soldiers lay on the ground in the field, unmoving. Two others kept up a barrage of pistol shots, then the injured one, the leader, switched to a rifle. Jason and the driver neared the trees.
Two gunshots in quick succession.
The driver collapsed, sprawled in the grass.
Jason stopped, tried to help him.
Another gunshot.
Jason stumbled and fell, and then lay still.