Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters!

(Nic suggested I mention that the inspiration for Katya's character came from the movie "xXx")

I'm on the home stretch now, so things are winding down.

I'll post an epilogue tomorrow or the next day.

Thank you royalty09 and emptyvoices for your help!

Chapter 12

Activity around the chateau grew less deadly, but more chaotic, very quickly. The police were first on the scene, but paramedics and fire trucks poured onto the grounds right behind them.

Katya was a woman transformed. Gone was the sultry little Goth chick; in her place was a self-assured intelligent woman completely in charge of the crime scene around her. (She even seemed taller to me, but that might have been because of the stiletto heels on her knee-high boots.) I learned later that Interpol's role is traditionally one of support rather than direct law enforcement, but Katya directed the local police with self appointed authority, and to my surprise, the local cops allowed themselves to be directed.

"I understand, Miss Reisert, that you are in possession of a passport under an alias," she said as she snapped shut a set of handcuffs around the bony wrists of a surprised, but non-combative Jackson. When I nodded, she went on to suggest that I use that name for the duration of my stay in the Czech Republic. "I will see that you get back to U.S. safely. You will not be arrested. You have my word on that."

Make no mistake; I was thrilled at these words, but I was also more than a little taken aback by them. I wondered why she would go out of her way to do such a thing for me. I watched her crook a hand under Jackson's elbow, lever him up from the floor with surprising strength, and steer him into Rade's leather library chair to await the attention of the paramedics. He shook his hair back, cast his eyes up at her, and blithely offered to trade her that warehouse full of weapons Rade wanted for the same amnesty she offered me.

"You are sweet to offer," she said, patting his shoulder. "But no."

When Rade shot Jackson, the bullet clipped his calf, knocking him to his knees, but amazingly, considering how skinny Jackson's legs were, missed the bone. Now he let a paramedic bandage his leg, but declined a trip to the hospital.

And so after the medics taped up Jackson's leg, after they'd mopped the blood away from my face and dabbed salve on the cut above my eye, and after they hauled away the injured and dead (I understood Rade to be mangled beyond recognition, but still breathing), a limping Jackson was put into the back of a squad car.

"See you soon, Leese!" The sunny smile lighting his face seemed more appropriate for a trip to a beach than a jail cell.

I tried and failed to match his smile. I felt off balance and edgy as I watched the cruiser roll through the gates. A hand touched me lightly on the shoulder and I turned. Katya handed me my purse. "I had your luggage brought from upstairs. Ride with me, Miss Reisert."

I rolled my suitcase along behind me as we walked around the side of the house toward that barn of a garage where I had tasered (but not killed) a guard only the day before. When Katya sidestepped a discarded latex glove, I looked down and noticed the trampled grass. I was pretty sure this was where the dogs caught up to Rade. "What will happen to them? The dogs, I mean."

"I will find good home for them," Katya said. "I will see they are cared for. They were kinder to me than their owner."

She drove us in one of Rade's more sedate vehicles, a silver Mercedes that I imagined he might have used for his more conservative appointments, like maybe visits to his banker, or for bribing elected officials over lunch. I tried to relax against the supple leather seat but I still felt buzzed. It troubled me that I felt so wired and even somewhat elated after doing something so lethal.

"You miss him, yes?" Katya asked, interrupting my reverie.

I started to deny it, but something very kind in her face brought out the truth. "I know it doesn't make any sense. I should be glad that this is almost over - and I am. But yes, I miss him."

"Jackson did me big favor." Her lips curved into a soft smile.

"Did he?" I murmured, looking out, as it seemed I had done countless times now, at the city streets of Prague through a car window. I wondered if I would ever come back here; ever have the chance to see the city as a tourist. We jetted up a freeway ramp, away from downtown.

"I was with Rade for long time. It was job for me, but I was so good at pretending, I fooled even me. I lost sight of job and became who Rade thought I was. The night we went to club, the night Rade offered me like party favor to Jackson, we went back to house, Jackson and I. We talked for long time."

"Jackson knew I was Interpol agent. Don't ask me how; he seems to just know these things. He reminded me I was Interpol agent. For many months now, I had evidence against Rade, all I needed for many indictments. Yet I did not take action. That night, however, I made decision to end this, to return to my real life. Had I done this before, you would have been spared all of this."

We passed beneath an overhead sign with the logo of an airplane on it. Katya deftly switched lanes and exited the freeway.

"So I owe debt to you. I have paid debt to Jackson already for this wake up call."

"Oh? How did you do that?" I asked, striving for a tone of nonchalance, and wondering if I really wanted to hear this.

"Is not what you think, Miss Reisert," Her laugh had the shimmer of a thousand tiny bells. "Jackson wanted only you that night. I gave him access not to me, but to house – I disabled security, let him steal information from Rade about contacts, bank accounts, assets. That is all. And now, I have brief detour to make, if you do not mind."

We had reached the airport, and Katya cruised past private landing strips and hangars, much as the limo driver in New York had done after I landed there – how many days ago? I counted back and was stunned to realize it was only four. The sun cast a warm glow in the mid-afternoon sky and my stomach rumbled suddenly, reminding me I hadn't eaten anything since the bread and cheese I shared with Jackson the night before. I knew suddenly that I would miss Katya, that she was someone I wished to have known better. I wondered what life had in store for her now. I wondered when her heart would heal.

She slowed outside a large private hangar and pulled to a stop behind a squad car. Jackson sat on the trunk. Two cops, smoking cigarettes and lounging against the front bumper, waved to Katya. She said, "Looks like Jackson found someone to trade his weapons to."

------------------------------------

"You should email your father," Jackson said, "Let him know you're okay. You've been out of touch for a couple of days."

The pilot, on standby since our arrival in Prague, had arrived at the airport within the hour. We breezed through customs and were now several hours into our flight, having touched down in Germany to top off the Gulfstream's fuel tanks. Now it dawned on me that I hadn't spared a moment's thought for anyone back home for at least the past two days. Furthermore, I couldn't bring myself to focus on them now.

I couldn't really focus on anything. After plowing through two bags of potato chips, a peanut butter sandwich, and an unmentionable number of Oreos, I watched Jackson sleep (he'd tossed back a couple of pain pills), flipped through a few business magazines and a big book of "Far Side" cartoons, and tried to nap in a reclining chair. I couldn't relax, though, and I kept getting up to pace from one end of the cabin to the other.

When Jackson woke up, he watched me fidget for a while before flipping open the laptop and suggesting I email my dad. I sat down and called up my Yahoo account. I saw messages from my dad, my mom, and from Cynthia and Matthew. I felt overwhelmed. I just couldn't deal with them right then. I closed the laptop and prowled over to look out the window once more. The day was fading into night and all I could see was indigo – sky and ocean blended together.

Jackson hobbled over to the small kitchen area that also served as bar, and poured something clear and lethal looking into a glass. "It's gin," he said, bringing it to me. "I figure you're probably off vodka, it being a Russian thing."

"I don't want it." I shook my head, hard enough to make my hair swirl.

He moved in and stood so close to me that the glass touched both his shirt and mine.

"Drink it," he said softly. After a silent, war-like exchange of glares, I finally backed down and took the glass from him. In a fine show of defiance and bravado, I took a big mouthful of gin and, of course, choked on it. Jackson, trying to be helpful, pounded me on the back until I turned around and slapped at him. After that, I took smaller sips, but drank it quickly and handed him the empty glass. "I'd like another one, please."

"You thought I'd left you, didn't you? When you woke up without me." He tilted a yellow-labeled bottle and I watched the gin splash into the glass. "It had to be that way. You had to believe that or Rade never would have believed it."

"I saw a photo – on his cell phone. He showed me a picture of you at the airport, getting on a plane."

"I boarded the plane and changed clothes in the bathroom. I added the moustache and got right back off the plane. It wasn't easy. Those airplane bathrooms are so cramped. Don't you think so, Leese?"

"That doesn't really strike me as being funny right now."

"All right." He handed me the drink. "Let's get to it, then. We need to get it said: I used you as bait. It was the best way to do what had to be done."

"Because the deal went bad and you were trying to cover your ass. You wanted your job back."

"Yes, I wanted my job back." He backed up to perch on one of the worktables, taking the weight off of his injured leg. "And, Rade was obsessed with you, and it was the only way to stop him. And, I came back for you. I told you I would get you home safe, and now I'm keeping that promise."

"Are you really going to take me home?" I stared into eyes that seemed bottomless, searching for honesty.

"Yes." His eyes, unflinching, met mine.

"You told me before that I'm 'bad for business', that you can't afford to let me live."

"I've taken care of that."

"How?" My hands started to shake; I set the glass down. "How am I going to get through each day from now on without wondering if it's my last; without wondering the same thing about my father?"

"Just trust –"

"No. I need for you to tell me how this is going to work."

"All right." He took something from beneath his jacket and laid it on the table. "This is your gun. It killed a guard today and your fingerprints are all over it. You handed it to me when you came back into the house. Do you remember? Good. Katya confiscated my weapon, but she didn't frisk me. So theoretically I can connect you to that killing if I have to. Now, I won't do that, but knowing I can, will keep you from going to the authorities about me, or about anything else you learned during this little trip. That's all the assurance my company will need. No one will bother you."

"You kidnapped me, Jackson." My voice was a shaky whisper. Tears began to sting my eyes; I tried furiously to blink them back. "I saw a man tortured. I was beaten up and nearly raped, and I killed a man. Everything that has happened to me this week is because of what you did to me."

He stepped closer to me and lowered his voice to a near whisper. "I told you I would get you out of this and I did."

I shoved him back toward the table. "You shouldn't have done any of this to me."

"I know. I'm sorry." His voice was calm and even.

"What good does sorry do me, Jackson?" I shoved him again and whacked him on the arm. Tears streamed down my face. "Sorry doesn't change anything."

"I know."

I whacked him with both hands. When he made no move to defend himself, I hit at him again and again, and finally cried out, "Damn it, Jackson, why won't you fight back?"

"Stop now." His voice was soft.

"I can't."

He caught my flailing hands, then, circled my wrists tightly with his own hands, and twisted me around. He pulled me snugly against his chest and held me tightly, much as if I was in a straitjacket. I cried and he just kept holding me. We sank to the floor together and I cried until I had nothing left. He brushed my hair from my face, rested his chin on my head, and just held me. After a long while, I fell asleep against him.