Part I
The rental car moved slowly along the dusty road, its driver peering hard to recognize the signs at each turning, trying to make out the names of the paths. Eventually the car slowed down even more and he took another skeptical glance at the piece of paper in his hand. This was the place.
Casting another look through the windshield, he passed the turning and drove on until he found a good place to park, several hundred meters up the road, well out of sight. He estimated the risk of anyone coming by and wonder about the abandoned car at the side of the road, but what were the chances. And even if - he wasn't going to stay long.
He got out of the car and started walking, scanning the environment. He was more or less out in the open country, the terrain plain and the vegetation what you would expect it to be that close to the beach. The earth was sandy and loose, just a little wet from a recent rainfall. The evening was mild and relatively warm for the time of the year, and he felt comfortable just wearing shirt and jacket. He reached the turning he had just passed minutes before and continued on the small path leading away from it. He noticed tire tracks on the ground and looked around, checking for potential observers but found none.
There were only two other houses, both in comfortable distance, close enough not to feel isolated but distanced enough to secure a certain privacy. The next village with food stores and local people was at least a ten to fifteen minutes walk away and he had a hard time believing places like this really still existed. A few lonely houses, scattered at the beach, far off from any signs of mass tourism. Even during summer, in the middle of the holiday season, he couldn't imagine the place to be crowded or packed. If he still had a family he'd like to take them here. Seemed like the perfect place to relax and get away from everything. He could only guess what it must cost to rent one of these houses, but it was probably worth it.
Now the houses seemed empty and abandoned, the windows blocked and secured by wooden shutters. Reassuring one more time that there was no one anywhere near, he turned to the third house, the one he had been coming for. It was one-storied, with a flat roof and a wooden porch along the front and the sides, a few centimeters above the sandy ground. Here the windows weren't blocked and seemed to go out to all four sides, which worried him. He was easy to make out, hardly a challenging target. He approached the parked car next to the house, the definite proof of someone staying here, and duck down behind it. He had thought about waiting for dusk to fall, but ultimately decided it wasn't worth any more waiting. Now he reached for his gun and the cold steel in his hand calmed him a little bit, even though he knew that it wouldn't put him in any advantage in case he had been discovered already. He just had to hope for the best.
He quickly took the last steps to the house where he pressed himself up against the sidewall, seeking cover. He carefully moved alongside it until he stood next to one of the windows. Taking a deep breath he closed his eyes for a moment. Was this finally the end of the road? Would he finally close the book on something that had been hunting him for the last seven years? An eternity.
He shook his head to clear his mind and opened his eyes. Another deep breath and he leaned in, taking a peek inside the house.
She was just coming through a doorway, wiping her hair with a towel while walking across the room. It was her. Jack pulled his head back and gasped. His pulse quickened and he could hear the somewhat faster beats of his heart. It was really her. His source had been reliable after all. He hadn't really been able to believe it, hadn't allowed himself to get his hopes up. During the flight and the long trip to this remote place, he had told himself over and over again what a jerk he was, taking all the exertions and risks, coming all the way just based on the testimony of an utterly dubious eye-witness. But it had been worth all the efforts and costs - it would have been worth ten times as much.
He had gotten confirmation this morning when he had talked to a local shop owner. All it took was to mention his nationality and how much he liked this country and particularly this region to coax the information he needed out of the man. Willingly he had told Jack about another stranger, a woman, American as well, who had been living out here in one of the rental houses at the beach, for quite some time already, all by herself. "People say she's an artist," the guy had told him, his voice almost whispering as if sharing a well-kept secret with Jack. It could well have been the truth, that woman could have been anyone. But Jack had instantly known, felt, deep inside, somehow, that this time he had found her. He hadn't been able to explain it and still couldn't, but he had been sure right away. And now, taking another peek through the window he got all the proof he could possibly need. It was her.
He watched her throwing the towel on a couch at the far side of an open room that seemed to make up almost the entire house. He assumed only the bath- and the bedroom were separated. Crossing the room in just jeans and a shirt, she arrived at the kitchen area which was mainly a bar with high chairs and a complete fitted kitchen alongside the wall to his left. Somehow confused he watched her taking a glass from the sideboard and pouring herself some tap water after checking the temperature with her index finger. She took a big sip and stood then for a moment, steadying herself with one hand on the sink and looked out of the window in front of her that viewed the rough beach panorama.
From his position Jack could only see her back and a vague idea of her profile, but for a moment there, he could imagine her face expression. Her green eyes filled with something he had never really been able to grasp. A blaze and intensity that had once fascinated him, a deep longing that at times had aroused him and at other times scared him, because of the awareness that he would never be able to satisfy it. And suddenly he knew what it was that startled and confused him about her appearance. Watching her turning around and walking back to the couch, her bare feet stroking the shiny wooden parquet, her figure melting in with the room, he felt set back in time and trapped somewhere about seven, eight years ago. In her casual clothing and this homelike scenery, she wasn't Nina the traitor anymore, the woman who had sold out everything and everyone, the monster who had killed his wife and taken everything from him that had given his life a meaning. In this strange moment she was just Nina again. His partner. Supporter. Friend. Lover.
And as fast and sudden as realization struck him, he was hit by a tidal wave that threatened to drown and suffocate him with guilt, grief and anger. How could he let himself think that way, feel that way, even for the shortest instant? How could he forget? How could he just for the tiniest fraction of a second not see her as the evil, despicable creature she was?
He turned away from the window and leaned back against the wall, finding himself short of breath and covered in sweat. He closed his eyes, trying to get a hold of himself. Alright, it's not the first time that happens. Get yourself together, Jack.
It was true, it wasn't the first time. In their recent encounters there had always been moments when he had been forced to remind himself of who she really was. Flashbacks of the plane from Visalia. What are we gonna do, Jack? The words echoing in his head just like they had back then. We. How close he had been to let old memories take over, slip on the past they once had shared, way back in another, distant life that he had believed in but which had turned out to be nothing but lies, fake and betrayal. But his anger and rage had always been strong enough to put him back on track. And it won't be any different this time either, he told himself. Except for that this is gonna be the last time.
The sound of an opening door brought him back. He quickly turned around again, just in time to see her walking out on the porch. Oh yes. This time, this is really it.