One week later…
d2: + 2 years, 9 months
d3: − 3 months
Part XIX: All there is
"I'm only gonna ask you one more time," Nick heard the voice through the haze of pain the last blow had caused. "What are you doing here?"
Told you this was a stupid idea, another voice was mocking him, and it took him a moment to realize this one was inside his head.
"I told you," he tried to say, croaking, having trouble to breathe. Some of his ribs had to be broken. "I'm just –"
"Out for a walk," he got cut off. "Sure." The guy let out a guffaw and darted his companion a meaningful look. "You know what we do with guys who are out for a walk where they shouldn't be?"
I have a vague idea, Nick thought when he saw the knife flashing in the guy's hand. And more than ever before in his life, he wished he could turn back time. Just a few hours. Or thinking about it again – maybe an entire day.
He had eavesdropped on Nina's phone call the night before. Not on purpose, or at least not initially, but what he had heard had been enough to make him suspicious.
She hadn't noticed him walking in and continued her conversation. And although he had only heard the brief remarks on her part it had been enough to keep him from making himself noticed. Something about a change of plans she didn't like, money, and a location not far from where she was at the moment. Yes, she would pick it up, no problem. And he had wondered what 'it' was. When she had asked about backup, he had carefully moved backwards and managed to get out of the room again before she had finished the call.
Backup? What the hell does she need backup for? It didn't make sense unless… Unless she's back in business again, the thought had flashed his mind. She had told him that she was working as an interpreter and just like him handling most of her work from her computer at home. But interpreters usually didn't need backup.
His first instinct had been to confront her, but then he hadn't - thinking, knowing she would lie to him anyway. Instead he had waited until the next day, their departure day, and pretended to leave a few hours before her in the afternoon. Then he had rented a car and waited, and when she had left he had followed her.
Flashbacks to Tunisia but this time it had been easier. More cars in the city and on the highways, and about an hour later he had watched her getting together with three grim-looking guys in front of a motorway restaurant. One of them had handed a briefcase to her and Nina had taken a moment to inspect the content before all four of them had continued their little road trip. They had reached their destination when it had been just about to get dark - somewhere in the middle of nowhere, on the edge of a glade, in a forest or national park.
Nick had been careful not to be discovered, leaving the car in a dirt road and cautiously sneaking up on the little group, and when they had simply seemed to wait so had he.
A while later another car had arrived, three more men showed up, one of them carrying a briefcase as well, and he and a second man had started walking towards the middle of the glade where they had soon been met by Nina and one of her chaperons. Hidden in a safe distance, Nick hadn't been able to hear what was being said when the four of them met, so he had tried to move around the private party and approach them from a different direction where the tree line was closer and denser. But he hadn't even made it half the way. Just when he had been out of sight and earshot, a sudden pain had seared him from top to bottom and then everything had gone black.
He had been out for a few moments, how long exactly he didn't know. But coming to again he had understood that he had been knocked out, and opening his eyes he had also realized who had whacked him over the head. It was the rest of Nina's team, the two guys who had been waiting by the car when the second party had arrived. After that Nick hadn't paid attention to them anymore. Obviously a mistake. But it had been too late for regrets.
"Good morning, there," one of them had sneered, grabbing him firmly by the hair and pulling him up onto his knees. "Anything we can help you with?"
Feeling the second guy behind him Nick hadn't even tried to offer any resistance, and the guy had quickly cut to the point and asked him why he was there and repeatedly who he was with. Nick had considered telling the truth but something had warned him that it might not be a good idea. Not as long as he didn't understand what was going on. Instead he had tried to explain that he was just out for a walk, just an innocent stroller. But he hadn't even been able to finish the sentence before a fist had landed in his face and then in his stomach, sending him to the dirty ground from where he had been pulled up again after a few seconds.
That procedure had repeated itself a few times, the blows becoming more painful and more specific each time, until the guy in front of him had gotten his knife out which he was waving around now, on a level with Nick's eyes.
"You know what we do with guys who are out for a walk where they shouldn't be?"
And suddenly, Nick realized that they weren't just out to beat him up. They would kill him. Right here, right now, without batting an eyelid. And that was enough to change his mind and tell them he was here with Nina.
But he didn't get to say anything anymore.
"Later," the second guy stepped in, stopping his knife-swinging companion, and Nick felt himself being pulled to his feet. "Make sure he keeps quiet and then let's go."
Another punch hit him, and the fist connecting with his cheek and jawbone brought him close to passing out again. And while his brain was still trying to decide whether to lose consciousness or not, he felt rough hands grabbing him by his arms and shoulders and dragging him away.
¤¤¤
Feeling herself relax a little, Nina watched the car taking off into the night. She was glad the deal had been plain sailing.
Her employer had contacted her the night before, telling her that there had been a change of plans and that she would have to meet the buyer one day earlier. Knowing that she had been in the area already he hadn't seen a problem, and she hadn't made it one, letting him assume though that she was there for another job. He knew that she wasn't working for him exclusively and it was fine by him as long as she didn't get confused about her priorities. They both knew she was smart enough not to.
However, she hadn't been happy about her time schedule and her arrangements being upset. Besides the fact that it had given her almost no time to check out the location before the deal, she was forced to rely on a backup team she had never worked with before. Now she was glad everything had gone off without any complications. The Russians had the software and the money had been transferred to one of her employer's accounts.
She waited until the rear lights had disappeared between the trees and turned around, signaling to Dimitri that they were leaving.
"Where are the others?" he murmured when they reached the car, but a second later they saw them coming through the woods, dragging something between them.
Someone, she corrected herself, recognizing the shape of a human body.
"Look what we found," one of them exclaimed when they were just a few meters away. "Caught him sneaking around, spying on us."
She frowned, quickly scanning their surroundings. If someone had been spying on them, it was rather unlikely that he was alone.
They stopped and let the man drop onto his knees, holding him up though with a firm grip around his shoulders.
"I bet he's a cop," the other guy spat, grabbing the halfway unconscious man by the chin and jerking his head up, offering a look into his face.
She did her best to hide the shock when she recognized him but didn't manage completely.
"You know him?" Dimitri asked, standing to her right, just a few feet away. And it took her about two seconds to evaluate her options and maybe two more to make her decision.
There wasn't really a choice to make though, considering what was at stake. No one cared about who she was sleeping with as long as it didn't interfere with her work. But her employer would hardly show understanding when he found out that she was being followed and the assignments he gave her compromised by a former federal agent who was sneaking around behind her back and worst of all getting caught while doing so. It was a risk and a security breach he wouldn't tolerate. Just like he wouldn't tolerate that she had allowed for this to happen.
"Yes," she confirmed coldly, staring down at Nick who seemed to come around now, his dulled, clouded eyes trying to find a focus.
That's what happens when you get a private life, she thought, knowing what she had to do.
"He's a fed," she explained, and reached a hand out to Dimitri who understood and got his gun out.
She noticed one of the other guys smirking while both held Nick into position, each moving a bit away from him but still maintaining the grip around his shoulders. Nick himself still seemed to struggle with consciousness, but finally his eyes locked with hers and lit up with recognition, just when Dimitri placed his gun into the palm of her hand.
She closed her fingers around it and darted a quick glance at the shiny weapon before looking up again. Nick's gaze was flickering back and forth between her hand and her face, fear and plain shock in his eyes when he grasped the scenario.
She saw his lips moving, and although no sound came over them she knew he had meant to say her name. And she was surprised how much the pained expression in his face affected her. How uncomfortable it made her to see him like this. There was blood dripping down from one of his eyebrows, his lip was split, and the skin under his left eye was already starting to change color. A bit more blood on his shirt, but that wasn't even it. She had seen people looking much worse. Even people she had once cared about. No, it was the look in his eyes that… And she had to focus not to let it show.
You shouldn't have followed me, then none of this would have been necessary, she thought, concentrating on her anger. It was much easier to handle.
She cocked the gun. No mistakes now. She had to be quick. Fifteen degrees left, fifteen degrees right. It was simple. One step, ninety degrees right.
¤¤¤
Nick blinked as a part of his brain was still trying to convince the other parts to shut down and lose consciousness. And seeing Nina pointing the gun at him made it seem a much nicer alternative to just close his eyes and pass out before she would...
His mind was working slowly and still busy processing the situation when two quick shots rang out and he suddenly hit the ground. And again it took a moment before he understood what had happened.
They're dead, he realized, slowly lifting his head up and glancing at the two bodies lying to either side of him. She hadn't shot him – she had shot them.
He looked up and saw she had turned around and was already aiming at the last man, who seemed just as perplexed and surprised as Nick himself. But for some reason she took the time to pull a second gun out of her pocket and point it at him as well.
"What -" the guy stammered and tried to back away but another series of quick shots from the second gun cut him off.
Nick watched him being hit in the chest twice, getting thrown back by the impact of the bullets, and falling to the ground. Strangely numb, he kept his eyes riveted on the motionless body a little longer before letting his gaze return to Nina.
She was staring at the dead guy as well, and her expression calm she seemed unmoved by the fact that she had just taken three lives. As if it was nothing or something she had done a hundred times before.
She has! Well, not a hundred times, but she had done this before. She had turned on people and she had killed. And although he had always been aware of it, never forgotten that side of her for longer than a few moments, it hit him absolutely unprepared now. Knowing what she was capable of and witnessing her doing it – there was a whole world between those two.
He watched her pulling a face, looking annoyed for a moment before moving again. Wiping one of the guns clean off her own fingerprints, she approached the guy she had killed last, kneeled down, and placed the weapon in his hand. Getting up to her feet again quickly, she was already busy cleaning the second gun as she came striding towards Nick without even looking at him.
He became aware again of the pain in his chest and side and rolled onto his back, groaning at the exertion. He felt like he had been hit by a truck. An angry and severely pissed off truck. In the corner of his eyes, he noticed her placing the second gun in the hand of one of his capturers before searching him and taking possession of his own gun in return. No wonder she has a different gun every time we meet, a silly thought flashed his mind while he watched her sliding it into her waistband before finally turning to him.
"Get up," she said gruffly, sounding what…tired? Angry? Hell, he was angry too! Angry that he was so shocked about this, angry that it got to him like that. What the hell had he been thinking? That everything he knew about her past had just been exaggerations? That everything she had told him herself had been a bedtime story? He shook his head inwardly. I'm a… He didn't even know what to call himself anymore.
She kneeled down beside him and reached out to support him when he tried to get up, but he pushed her away. He didn't need her help. He didn't want her to touch him. How could I ever let her touch me? How could I…
He groaned with pain when his ribcage reminded him not to move too quickly, and standing upright again he suddenly felt dizzy. He tumbled and would have fallen if Nina hadn't caught him.
"How did you get here?" she asked and he told her, motioning with his head towards the dirt road where his rental car was parked. "Let's go," she ordered, and once more he tried to push her away, but the movement only caused new pain and he gave up, letting her drag him towards the car where she maneuvered him into the passenger seat.
Tilting his head back against the headrest, he closed his eyes for a moment but all he saw were the dead faces he had stared into just a minute ago.
She got into the car as well and held out a hand, and he reached into his pockets, tossing the keys to her. A second later they were driving off into the night.
He glared at her. How could I be so stupid? To think that she had changed? That a part of her regretted what she had done? That she just couldn't admit it because…
Bullshit! She hasn't changed one bit. It was all wishful thinking. His wishful thinking. And the only reason why she had never said that she regretted anything was simply that she didn't have any regrets! She hadn't even lied. Just let him believe what he had been so eager to believe.
Fool!
They were out of the woods now and on an open road, and he kept glaring at her while she kept scowling straight ahead. The silence was loaded and she finally broke it, without taking her eyes off the road.
"Just say it," she dared him coldly.
¤¤¤
She didn't have to turn her head to know the look on his face. She had seen it before. Just not on him. And she couldn't deny that it felt wrong. If she had ever cared how anyone looked at her, what they thought of her, really cared, not just because she had to in order to maintain her cover - he was the last one she wanted to despise her.
Let's not get dramatic, she mocked herself. Just get it over with.
"Just say it," she demanded and could feel Nick's glare intensifying for a moment.
"I don't have anything to say to you," he replied then, his voice heavy with contempt but also disappointment. And for a second, she thought there was even sadness. But she wasn't sure.
"Fine," she retorted, knowing he would come around eventually. He was going to talk soon enough and probably more than she would like him to.
She thought of the cell phone in her pocket. She would have to make the call soon. And she better came up with a good explanation as to why her entire team was dead.
For local authorities it would look like they had shot each other. Three foreigners whose identification would most likely broach some follow-up questions but in the end none of those would be answered. The investigation would be closed without any result other than that all three men had died in a shootout. The specifics about what had happened and why would remain a matter of speculation. Only her employer wouldn't leave it at that. He would want a reason, a motive, an explanation. She hadn't decided yet what to tell him, only that it wouldn't be the truth. Of course not the truth.
"It was never about Jack, was it?" Nick suddenly remarked, snapping her out of her thoughts.
She frowned.
"You never came to the States to get rid off Jack," he explained, seeming to have put the pieces together. "Neither to see me. It was a job." There was still anger and contempt in his voice, but he seemed to have calmed down a little and his disappointment seemed to weigh heavier now. "It was always a fucking job."
For the first time since she had gotten into the car she darted a quick glance at him, and seeing the consternation in his face, the expression in his eyes as he stared through the front shield, for some reason it made her feel… Guilty. And turning back to the steering wheel, she swallowed.
"How many?" he asked after a while.
How many? How many what? Jobs?
How many people did you kill since…" he tried to clarify but couldn't complete the sentence.
"Since when? Since I got pardoned? Or since I met you?" she sneered but he didn't react. "I didn't count," she stated curtly and could feel he wanted to protest but then seemed to change his mind.
"You know, the sad thing is, I actually believe you."
She felt a lump in her throat, and struggled with herself for a moment before finally just rolling her eyes.
You shouldn't, she thought but remained silent. She knew exactly how many, and actually the number wasn't that large. Most of the time everything went according to plan, without set ups, without shootouts. Most of the time nothing happened and tonight had been something entirely different anyway. But it didn't matter. No point in trying to explain that to him.
"All this time," Nick shook his head, "and I had no idea. It feels stupid to even mention that you've been lying to me, but…I really thought…I don't know what I thought." He sounded agonized. "Just the thought that we…and all the while you were out there, doing exactly what…" Again he couldn't finish his sentence, and she had enough.
"Doing exactly what I've always done?" she snapped, trying to stay calm though. "What can I say – it's what I do best."
She could practically hear him clenching his teeth.
"Yeah, I'm sure the guys back there learned that lesson," he sneered, and she couldn't stop herself from retorting.
"They would still be alive if you hadn't showed up."
There was a deadly silence as he seemed to progress her words.
"Stop the car," he suddenly demanded but she just smirked, not taking her eyes off the road.
"Stop the fucking car," he yelled, and suddenly his hand was on the steering wheel, tearing at it with an iron grip, and before she could react the car had left the road and was plowing off into a field. She hit the brakes and the abrupt stop threw them both forward and then back again, pressing them into their seats.
She stared at him - angry, incredulous, catching her breath.
"What the hell are you doing?"
But slumped back into his seat, holding his side, his features contorted in pain, he didn't reply. If he had an explanation, he didn't seem willing to share it with her.
¤¤¤
Breathing hurt, and he was sure by now that at least one of his rips was broken but he was far from caring.
They would still be alive if you hadn't showed up.
The words kept echoing in his mind, their meaning, their implications sinking in more and more, and his initial reaction fading further and further away.
Don't dare blaming this on me, he had thought, anger flaming up inside him, but now he just felt like throwing up.
She was right. It sickened him to the core but she was right. Swallowing down the sour taste in his mouth, he realized she had shot them to save his life. It had been him or them. He couldn't see why she hadn't just told them that she knew him, that he wasn't a fed, that he was no threat, but he knew her well enough to understand that there had to be a logical, a rational explanation to it. There always was.
God, he hated himself for doing this again. For understanding how her mind worked, for seeing things from her perspective, explaining them, justifying them.
Justifying? Hardly!
"I guess I should be flattered that you chose me over them. Is my life worth three others?"
He heard her sigh next to him but she didn't say anything and they sat in silence for a long moment. He wasn't even sure where he was in his thoughts, just that he was lost.
"I got back in before we met," her voice suddenly reached through to him, calm but not as unmoved as usually. "Before Tunisia. And yes, when you showed up at the hotel, that day Jared and Travis stopped by, I was there for a job. Pretty much every time we meet I have something to take care of somewhere in the area, either before or afterwards. I killed four people since I got pardoned and watched a couple more being killed. I prefer for things to run smoothly, but sometimes they get ugly. And when that happens, there's never really a choice."
He turned his head to face her but she wasn't looking at him, peering out into the darkness, her hands resting on the lower part of the steering wheel.
"Sure, just keep telling yourself that," he stated bitterly. "But we both know you had at least one choice. After your pardon, you had…maybe not all the chances in the world, but…you were out and you could have stayed out."
"The hell I could," she replied just as bitter, meeting his eyes with that certain expression on her face again. "You don't get it, do you? You don't just quit. It's not like one of your part-time jobs. You don't get out, you don't turn your back on them. I know way too much to be able to just walk away." She shrugged her shoulders, stating a simple fact. "They'd kill me."
"If you know too much," he started to object, "then why –"
"Because I'm no threat as long as I'm playing by the rules," she cut him short, her voice low, a thin smile playing on her face. "I get my hands dirty but I get something in return."
"Money." It's all about the fucking money.
"Sure," she sneered mildly, causing him to think again.
"Protection," he complemented, starting to understand. "From Jack?" He caught her casting her eyes down for a second before answering.
"From Jack, from former business partners, from people I know and people I don't know, from those holding a grudge because I turned on them and those fearing I might turn again. Take your pick."
"Can't blame them," he countered coldly, reminding himself not to be so fucking understanding.
"No," she agreed unmoved, glancing around to check their surroundings. "But if I get out, I'm on my own. Now, how long do you think I could sit around in Africa, trying to find a job that just pays enough to have an alarm system installed? How long do you think it would take certain people to find me if I didn't have the money and the connections to cover my tracks? And how long would it take before some people would get nervous that I might ask Uncle Sam to pay for my expenses in return for some information?"
He couldn't deny that it sounded convincing. She seemed to have a point.
"As long as I'm in," she shrugged, "it's safe to say I have an interest to keep my side of the deal, and I'm useful. Once I'm out, I'm nothing but a risk."
He stared at her, studying her expression for a moment before turning away and looking out the window. He shouldn't even be listening. Of course she had her reasons, and from her point of view they all made sense. But it's no excuse! Nothing could ever excuse what she had done. What she's still doing for Christ's sake. All the while they had…
He shook his head.
"So, what is it you're saying? No one ever retires?"
"Not in my position."
He nodded sarcastically. "I can see why you threw away your old life for this one."
¤¤¤
She smirked slightly. She couldn't. Sometimes she really couldn't anymore.
Sure, you do. The only thing you can't see is what your life would have been like if you hadn't thrown it out.
She sighed and turned her head away, not comfortable with Nick watching her.
"I meant what I said," she heard herself saying, "I'm simply doing what I'm best at." And a part of her tried to stop her from talking, knowing what she was about to reveal. But another, much bigger part had already decided. It didn't really matter anymore anyway, did it?
She met Nick's incredulous, questioning eyes.
"After they deported me to Africa, I had a lot of time to think. And sometimes I wonder what I would have done, without Jack, without…if I really had been free to decide." She saw the skepticism in his eyes but continued. "But the truth is, I can't see myself making any other decision than the one I made. Not then and not all those years ago."
She had let her gaze trail off while talking but looked up again now and saw him staring at her with a pained expression. As if he couldn't believe what he had just heard. And turning away from her, holding his breath, he looked as if he was going to throw up.
She could imagine what he was thinking.
To think that I ever thought anything else. That I ever touched you.
She sighed and turned her head as well. Dèja-vu.
"All those times you tried to convince me that this wasn't going to work," he said after a while, his voice low and weak, "you should just have told me this and I would have been gone in a second. But I guess it's my own fault. You never said you regret, you never said you didn't like things how they are. I just saw what I wanted to see."
"I don't like things how they are," she objected although something told her not to. Maybe it was best to just leave things the way they were. At least it would be a clean cut. They could both walk away.
But for some reason, she didn't want him to think the worst of her. Not more than he should.
"You just said –" he started but she cut him off.
"I said I can't imagine choosing a different way back then." She hesitated, but continued then in a hushed voice, the sudden need to explain herself to him again being stronger than her reason. "I do now."
She felt him spin around and glare at her but kept staring straight ahead.
"You lost me," he shrugged after a moment, his glare turning a bit more into a frown, still far from sympathetic though. "What do you mean?"
Still avoiding to look at him, her eyes wandering from the windshield down to her hands and back, she sighed and swallowed. She wanted to tell him and at the same time she didn't, had the words ready on her lips but was yet fumbling for them. Why was it this hard?
"I want to get out."
"Thought you can't," he countered immediately.
"Not just like that, no."
"Then what?"
She darted him a quick side glance, realizing he always did this when he was angry. Setting the pace, trying to pressure her - but she caught herself thinking he had all right to be angry.
What about me? If he hadn't showed up tonight… But she didn't even buy it herself.
"Planning on selling anyone out again?" he spat, and she smiled bitterly. If it was that simple…
"Wouldn't help me this time."
"Yeah, I guess it would be hard to get anybody trusting you again anyway."
"There are only two ways to get out," she ignored his remark. "Either you die, or you disappear for good."
"Well, we know dying is out of the question," he mocked.
"Yeah," she sighed, tired of his attitude, tired of all of it.