.
.
.
At first, I had thought that we could just get it over with, while I'd take care of her hands. Isn't it easier to talk about the hard things while you do something? A welcome distraction, so that the bad things sound less bad than they are?
How wrong.
Cleaning and disinfecting Audrey's bleeding knuckles was a welcome distraction, and instead of telling her how she ended up here, I used it as an excuse, not to start talking at all. I don't know where to begin.
I'm long since finished now, just picking at the ends of the bandages that I wrapped around her hands. As I glace over to the still open bathroom door I see the mess on the floor. There are bits of broken glass everywhere. Looks like Audrey beat me down with a water carafe, two hours ago. There's a laceration on the back of my head, the rain and the salt water washed the blood away already. Thank god, she didn't hit me in the face. It's much easier to travel around unnoticed if you look normal, healthy, unscathed.
I better pick up the pieces, before one of us steps on them. We're both barefooted. There aren't that many pieces, anyway. Two big ones and three smaller ones. Another welcome excuse, not to think back.
Jack.
Her voice makes me halt. I can feel her eyes on my back. Does she still trust me? Has it changed? I'm picking up these pieces because she beat me down. I've just bandaged her hands because they were bloody from thrashing me. She took my satellite phone behind my back to call somebody. The whole two days she was acting strange.
Why did I lose her trust?
You wanted to tell me something., she adds, everything.
I put the shards of glass into the sink and turn around to her. There she is, sitting on her bed, withdrawn in to her corner, hugging her knees.
You didn't say one word in the past five weeks, I tell her. Did it sound like a reproach? It shouldn't have been one – I just wanted to tell her that she's not the only one who can't put it into words what she had to go through.
She doesn't answer anything.
I know why. It's so hard to begin. Maybe a deep breath helps. Don't you …
I don't know where to begin. Audrey, your life as you know it doesn't exist any more. Your husband was charged with treason, your father doesn't recognize you, the CIA and the Chinese want you dead, you don't have a home to come back to. It's so sad. It makes me angry even to think about it.
Won't she just jump up and run to the deck once more, when she hears all that? To jump, to make an end? Who am I to stop her.
Finally, I sit down on my bed, the one on the other side of the cabin. We're here, facing each other, each one of us withdrawn into their corner. I killed Cheng. That's the first thing that comes into my mind. I have to start at the very beginning. I cut his fuckin head off.
There's no reaction in her. No relief, no disgust.
I should have taken him to prison, but I just couldn't hold back, after they told me you had died.
Finally, her eyes widen up. Who?, she asks.
Everyone. CIA, the white house. How much do you remember of that day, Audrey?
Now she's the one with the lump in her throat. Her mind, her body, her brain refuse to think back and refuse to put in into words. Just like mine.
Nothing…, she stammers, finally, I was in that park… and then…. I woke up, in – she swallows hard. Her eyes become a little teary.
God, how much would I want to take her into my arms and whisper into her ear that she'll never have to remember that again, that she'll never have to talk about this again, that I'll never make her go through that again.
You were pronounced dead, on the way to the hospital. I slaughtered him and everyone on his team and yet it didn't bring you back. I can't stand to look into her eyes. The Russians got Chloe into their hands and offered an exchange. I said yes. I didn't have anything to lose, back then. They took me to Russia, put me in front of some court and sentenced me to life.
The Russian border is not even 400 miles away. We're in the middle of the Caspian Sea. There could be Russian navy all around us. It freaks me out to think about that verdict.
How did you get to China, then?
Her question sounds like somebody is asking who is miles away.
The prison guards sold me. To everyone who was willing to pay. No, I can't say that. My lips just won't open, my tongue just won't say it. I don't want to remember. They started early, even before the trial started. I wonder- did they just sell me or every other prisoner as well? Was is really just these two guards or did they have help? A larger network? Russian mafia? Maybe. Must be. They looked too simple and all this bidding seemed so well organized.
How did you get to this prison where I was?
Waterboarding. Every day for weeks. That blanket over my head. We trained it in the delta forces camp. At the CIA training. You have to take a deep breath, when you still can. Once the towel comes, it's too late.
The towel. That smell. I could puke right here and now, remembering that smell.
The water. You try to breathe, but then the water comes. It's everywhere, you can't fight it. It filled my nose, my throat, you start to cough and even the breath you took won't help once the beating starts.
You choke. You get sick. The book says to act dead or unconscious is the fastest way to regain the chance to breathe, even if just for a while. Bullshit. You can't act dead, you can't fight the convulsions and the instinct that will do anything to breathe.
Jack…. A distant voice calls my name.
There's a soft touch at my shoulder that draws my thoughts back from Russia. She's here. She moved over to me, now she sits right next to me and asks me again, how I came to the Chinese prison.
The guards…I hear myself say, sold me.
To whoever was willing to pay. I have so many enemies in this world. The Sengalans. The blazing sun, the scorpios. Thinking back makes me shudder. Can't she imagine, without having to hear me say it?
I guess she does, because now I feel her hand at my shoulder. Whenever my thoughts take me too far away, she slightly signals me where reality is. Damn it. Stop it. You're here. Not there.
Her hand on my shoulder is the anchor that finally rips me out of the memories.
She's sitting right next to me and I can't help but look into her eyes. I feel like she finally understands how hard this is for me, too, to relive these moments. You can't just talk about it. You will inevitably be drawn back and be right there. The words and the memories are entangled, like they were two sides of one coin.
I'm so sorry that I left you…. I lost sight of you, in the river… and I just…. be honest with her, she deserves it, I just couldn't go on any more. It was no lie, I had really been at an end back then, after that day of beatings and third degree burns. A few moments after we had jumped into the river, I lost her. I had told her to swim with the current, along the river bank. Never cross it. As they came, I didn't listen to my own advice. That was when I gave up. My goal was no longer to get away from them. I just wanted to make them follow me across the river and lure them away from her. I hoped so much that you'd make it to Almaty.
Tears well in her eyes. The memories of that night must have triggered something inside her as well.
I lean forward and take her into my arms. Hush….. I'm not going to make her talk about it. It doesn't matter now.
Her hair tickles my face. My hands on her back feel her every move. Her warmth. It feels so good to hold her now. I don't even know if she's crying. She's so silent. Her body feels so fragile. She put back on a little weight but she's still far from being in a good state.
I stare at the wooden panels on wall across the cabin. She must have been freezing in the cold river. Just like me. I hold her closer. Pure panic must have driven her. Like me. I held on to something to stay afloat, when I tried to swim across the river. The boat came. I lost that thing to hold on to and I felt like drowning every other second. Every move hurt after what they had done to me that day. An hour earlier, I had barely been able to move in my cell, with so many second and third degree burns on my skin. Seeing Audrey awakened me. The adrenaline was the only thing that kept me going, until their rubber bullets hit exactly one of my wounds. For a moment I was even glad that they finally got me and tore me out of the water, into their boat. Fuck this damn survival instinct.
No.
My damn survival instinct is the only reason why we are here now. This, and the mere fact that the Chinese had to hand me back to the Russians alive.
I remember the days when I just wanted to die, and the lonely hours and nights, when I told myself that I had to stay alive to pay for my sins. Had I known earlier that Audrey was still alive… I would have had something to live for… damn it, no, it would have made me crazy to be all locked up and unable to help her.
It did make me crazy, these weeks in prison, after I lost her in the river.
I free myself from her hug and look into her eyes. Her cheeks are all wet. No, I'm not gonna make her talk about what happened to her after that night.
They tore me out of the river and started questioning me where you went. Won't it be just as hard for her to listen to what I'm telling her?
I hoped so much that you made it. One day they stopped questioning me about you and told me you were dead.
Her eyes tell me to go on.
They sent me back to Russia.
Every second. Every single second of the journey back, and every second that I spent in the Russian prison I just hoped for a chance to get out and to get back to her. The stay in China left its traces. I had hardly been able to get up when I arrived back. These endless days when I waited, just to get better,… I don't want to think back. This is what agony feels like. Knowing that a loved one gets mistreated and you can't help them because you just can't bring your body to stand up.
Being locked up was not an excuse.
How did you get out?
Her words bring my thoughts back. I must have gotten lost in the memories again.
Chloe was behind it. The Russians didn't care too much about me. The people from this prison let anyone who paid them put their hands me. Sengalans… the Chinese… Chloe and a few friends of mine tricked the Ukrainian mafia and one of the Mexican cartels into paying the Russians to get a hold of me. Then gave me the chance to escape.
It's easier now. It doesn't hurt that much to think back to these times.
We escaped from some airfield in Mexico, took a ferry to Havana.
I'm so thankful that Chloe got me out. Yes, she just paid me back for the exchange in London, but if it hadn't been for this exchange, nobody would have ever found out that Audrey was still alive. She'd still be in the hands of the Chinese. Trapped. Forever.
It's silent for a few moments. The rain stopped. Only occasionally, a wave hits the bow of the ship. The engine is the only noise. Constant and soothing.
I traveled back to the US to contact the CIA.
These monsters. Trying to save face. They would have let Audrey rot. Instead of helping her, they'd rather put me away to get rid of all the evidence.
Audrey wipes the tears away from her cheeks. Oh god, how much would I have loved to do that. To touch her cheeks, softly, to wipe the tears away. To cup her cheek with my hand, softly, to show her how much I care for her.
I must not do that. No. Never. Not now. Not here. I can't wipe her tears away. I can't and just sit here. I'll lean my forehead against hers and tell her I love her. I'd tell her that I never want to let go of her.
She's married. I need to tell her about Mark.
I will be honest with her.
The CIA had no idea you were still alive, I begin, they didn't believe me and just sent me away, first. But I guess I triggered something. They tried to silence me, instead of helping me to get you out.
Why?
I shrug. To save their face? Because it would have been a political scandal? The cause for world war three?
I wonder why Audrey is so calm. It had taken her five weeks to say one first word to me. I never talked about anything of this in the past weeks, because I was always afraid that she couldn't handle it.
What was on her mind, all these weeks?
It's no wonder that she didn't trust me anymore. Saying nothing at all is just one form of dishonesty.
Would you've wanted me to tell you this all… earlier?, I ask her, partly afraid of the answer.
She takes her time to think before she answers, I don't know, Jack.
I have to continue. Now.
At first I thought that some other parts of the CIA would finally help me, to get you back. But they just wanted me to lead them to you, so that they could get rid of us and all the evidence. Chloe found out.
The palm of my left hand hurts. One of the bones got broken and grew together somehow displaced. When I grope for it, I can even feel the ledge.
Jack?
God, I got lost again. Sorry. I look up from my hands, back into her eyes.
I had nothing, Audrey. The Russians would eventually find out that I've escaped, the Mexicans and the Ukrainians who got tricked into my escape would then be after me. The CIA still wanted me either dead right now or to lead me to you and kill us then, just to prevent a political crisis. And I had nothing but a fake passport and a plane ticket from Havana to Europe.
How … She didn't need to ask the question, the was only one question left. How did I get her out.
I have to say it. I need to be honest.
I went to see Marc.
Her features change suddenly. She yields back, just an inch.
Thank god I haven't wiped her tears away, earlier. It would have just made it impossible to say this, now. I can't force her to be near me while I tell about her husband.
He was the only one back home who believed me. That you were still alive.
I remember that strange evening, when he sifted through the few pieces of evidence that I brought with me. I sat at the piano stool of Audrey's old grand piano. You had a beautiful house, you and him.
Had.
I needed weapons and transport. Money to pay for our hideout, to pay people who help us on the way. Marc gave me all he had. Our plan was to make some of the wrong people in the white house nervous. The ones with the connections to the Chinese. I hoped they'd move you to another prison, and that transport was the only chance to get you out.
I look into her eyes. Is she crying? No. She's shocked. She's torn. She wants to ask me about Mark but she doesn't have the hear to do it.
It's okay, Audrey… I tell her, I never expected you to leave him.
I owe you, Jack.
No. You don't.
I can't go back anyway, she says.
I don't wanna be the one you chose just because you're out of options. Hell, I shouldn't have said that. Damn it.
She yields away, an angry look on her face.
It is so crazy to talk to her about another man. I'd rather talk about anything else. Anything.
At least she knows the truth now.
For a few moments we sit in silence. Did I expect her to say that she… god, what did I expect? Did I really hope for something like that? Shame on me. How dare I take advantage of the situation.
She doesn't owe me. She never did and never will. I owed her the truth about Marc. I owe her the chance to make her own choice: a good one. She shouldn't choose me. Never. She deserves better than that.
I better leave her alone now. Any other second I stay, it feels like I'm pressing her to say something nice to me that she doesn't actually mean.
I tell her to get some rest and flee the cabin.
The view from the deck is magnificent. Even Mohammed and his companion are on the upper deck, though the autopilot is still on.
I sit down at the bow. The waves seem endless, no matter into which direction I look. A world of blue. There's no other ship or boat within visible range. No land. Behind us, the sky is cloudy but in front of us, it is beginning to clear up.
It's been a while since I've last seen anything that beautiful. Inhale the moment. This is one of the memories that you can live off, when you're sitting in a twenty square foot cell, waiting for death.
Do I hope that she'll come?
Damnit, stop that thought. She was in a well-running marriage and doesn't even know that Marc was charged with Treason. Why should she come up here, to me? If she comes, I'll leave her alone and go back down. It's hard to imagine in what position she is. Stuck with me. Maybe she has the impression that I expect her to 'pay me back'. What a sick thought. I risked my life for her but that doesn't mean she owes me.
I need to take her back home.
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I'll write more, i promise.