Jason raced through the streets, leaving the industrial district behind, through the downtown, then back out into the suburbs, to gorgeous houses tucked into the hillside. It was a contrast to the east side of town, which was flat, inlaid with lakes surrounded by modest cabins—though also a few mansions as well, attesting to the wealth of the city, which was more technical than industrial. Probably why some of the warehouses were abandoned.
On the way, Gray looked up Samar Ravin; she was a philanthropist and socialite who had inherited millions. A benevolent force in the community, her exclusive parties were well-sought-after. She had a few businesses—fashion, watches imported from Austria, influencer. She didn't seem like someone who would need a crime business….
Jason drove up and up into the birches, cedars, and pines. The view of the city spread out beneath, gleaming under a turbulent sky. Then it disappeared as he followed a winding road, a dead end which led to a private drive that curved up to a magnificent house perched on the ridge. It had three roofs arched to a peak, each adorned with massive windows. It exuded both opulence and welcome; a queen deigning to stretch her hand out to honored guests. It looked like it couldn't have anything to hide.
Not far away from the house was a higher cliff overlooking it.
That's our vantage point, thought Jason. It was dangerous, even though they'd just be spying, not getting close. If this was a HQ, it would have high security, especially since they'd kidnapped two agents. Jason needed to figure out if Tasha and Saul were inside. Perhaps Ali and the guards Jason had seen in the warehouse, as well as Samar.
Jason drove around the circle at the end of the road. Then he headed to the park a block away. If he was right, it connected to the cliff overlooking the mansion.
As soon as he turned off the car, he asked, "How's your leg?"
Gray tipped the bottle of painkillers and shook a pill into his palm. He swallowed it with some water. "I'm good."
Jason hoped he would be; he glimpsed the makeshift bandages on his arm from the self-harm wound and a twinge of sympathy spiked through him.
They climbed out of the car; Jason shook himself into a casual façade, as if he were just hiking in the hills. They strode into the woods, taking the path in the general direction of the mansion. Jason was glad of the trees for more than just cover; they blocked the chill of the wind.
Gray matched his stride, but he limped significantly. Jason found a strong fallen branch and gave it to Gray for a walking stick. Gray gave a curt, grateful nod. His eyes were fierce, focused, shedding most of the fear from before. It sent shivers through Jason. He looked much closer to the old Gray. He had to keep telling himself that Gray wasn't about to turn the gun on him. That his care for Tasha couldn't be an act. To second-guess your partner was to invite fatal mistakes.
Jason took the trail that led up the hill, mindful of how hard this would be for Gray with his injured leg. He walked slowly to accommodate him, but Gray strode faster as they climbed the hill. Jason matched his pace, though he felt his energy fading with each step. He glanced at Gray; his jaw was set in a determined angle. His skin was ashen, but his eyes gleamed with almost a maniacal inner light. As if his mind was forcing his whole body into alignment with his will. It was astonishing to see; Jason tried to follow his example.
Save Tasha from torture.
Dismay struck him at the word. The word would always be a physical thing, hitting his body as if it were actual blows, blades, electric current.
Just a few more steps. Jason forced himself to keep going; somehow, Gray stayed ahead and reached the top first. Jealousy pricked him. Gray was better, even in his near-collapse.
They emerged from the dense trees to cedars and birches and bushes at the top of the hill, scattered among boulders and tufts of tough grass, weeds, and wildflowers. The plants swayed in the wind; the trees creaked, the leaves of the birches rustling. As they wove toward the edge of the cliff, making sure to stay under the cover of foliage, the wind whipped up stronger and a gust slammed into him, taking his breath away.
Gray leaned heavily on his walking stick, and he slowed, limping, but still determined. They had to crouch down among the bushes closer to the edge, then use a boulder for cover as they reached the flat area of rock that jutted out over the lower section of the hill. He helped Gray down to the rock and lay on his stomach, the layered, crumbling boulder overshadowing him, Gray on the other side of it.
Below, the land spread out over a field of gently rolling hills dotted with trees. Closer to the house lay a green lawn, landscaped with gardens and pools. Near the house stood a large tree partly blocking the view of it. In the dim light of the overcast early evening, the lights of the house caused reflections that were hard to see through. At this distance, it was hard to make out anything.
Jason reached into his pocket and drew out his spyglasses. Then spun their magnification to the maximum setting.
Some people were walking about; they looked like servants, dressed in uniforms of lavender and white. No sign of Samar or Ali or anyone else. At the front door there were a couple of guards, but they didn't look familiar. Then, a few cars arrived, limos and sports cars pulling up at the end of the circular driveway. People climbed out—they wore formal clothes—elaborate dresses and elegant suits. They walked up the stairs, some stopping on the several wide landings laced with roses.
As they filtered into the house, Jason switched back to the entrance. A woman had appeared in the foyer; she wore a long red dress, blond hair cascading over her shoulder. Graciously, she greeted each of the guests. Focusing on her, he tried to get a better view beyond the tree branches.
It was a bit hard to tell from this far away, but it looked like Samar. When he'd seen her last, he'd been under the influence of a powerful drug. Now, she had transformed from a frivolous drug dealer to an elegant host, her neck and arms drizzled with diamonds.
He handed the spyglasses to Gray. Gray watched intently for several minutes, his eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched. His fists gripped the rock so tightly Jason was afraid it would hurt him. Then Jason noticed something red seeping beneath his wrists, blood soaking the makeshift bandages and smudging the rock beneath.
"Gray," whispered Jason. His voice was swallowed by the howl of the wind. "Gray," he said in a soft voice.
Gray looked at him as if offended by the interruption. Then he said, "I don't see anything pertinent yet. They're just drinking, looks like they're heading into the other room for dancing. We might not see anything. They probably won't be so foolish as to do anything in front of a window."
"Your arm."
Gray lifted his left arm. Then flinched as he saw the blood. He took a deep breath. "It's nothing."
"I can bind it again."
"Compared to…what she might feel…"
"You don't want to leave a trace, though…."
Gray nodded, his face suffusing with shame. Jason surreptitiously tore off another piece of his shirt and handed it to Gray, who tied it around his wrist then turned back to surveillance.
After a moment, Gray slid the spyglasses back to Jason.
The front of the house was empty now; it looked like they'd all gone to the other side. Who knew what exactly was going on there. Tasha and Saul could be there and they'd never know.
Cold seeped into Jason as the sky darkened, wind freezing his outer layer of skin. They passed the spyglasses back and forth but couldn't see anything but servants gliding through the house. A few set the table and finally brought in a massive feast, a giant roast turkey at the center surrounded by garnishes. The left section of the dining room, beyond the tree in the front, wasn't too hard to see, especially since twilight was falling and there were fewer reflections on the window, the lights inside burning bright, splashing onto the lawn. A fountain in the yard glowed red, blue, and gold, the colors of the Muldavian flag. Jason wondered if this was a national holiday. However, they'd just celebrated independence a couple weeks ago.
People began filtering into the dining room, laughing and conversing. Some held wine glasses. They settled in around the table and after Samar arrived and sat at the front, they began to eat the first course.
As cold twisted into his joints and pain jabbed his injuries, his mind drifted toward Connie, her beautiful face, her eyes burning with infinite love… the glory of their love after the long absence… its blazing bloom all the more magnificent because of it…. Worth the darkness for the glory of those fantastic moments. Connie… I love you.
He immersed in her kisses as she spread her love over his skin…. What wonder…impossible beauty…. desperate desire burned through him for more….
"Jason!" said a voice. Not Connie's. He jolted awake, Gray's hand on his shoulder. Gray yanked his hand away.
"Sorry…what happened?"
"You fell asleep."
I'm exhausted… falling asleep on a recon mission… still, there's no excuse…. He couldn't help but wish he were back in his dream instead of here on a cold cliff, at the edge of danger.
Gray turned his attention back to the house, looking through the spyglasses. His body tensed. Then tremors shook him.
"It's her."
"Who?"
"Tasha." His voice was hoarse, broken.
Jason took the spyglasses, his hands shaking.
A figure hung between two guards, dark hair falling in front of her face. They dragged her to the front of the table near Samar, who grabbed her chin, tilted her head up.
Tasha.
She looked barely conscious.
They'd hurt her.
Well… it was true they'd hurt her before… It might just be from then. But still. They were showing her off like some trophy.
He longed to jump down from the cliff and pull her from them, shooting them all into smithereens.
But I can't. I'd have no chance.
Samar grasped Tasha's chin, caressed her face. Spoke, and the crowd laughed.
Gray crept to the edge of the cliff, his fingers gripping the ledge as if he were about to launch himself into the air and rescue her singlehandedly.
"Gray," said Jason.
Gray looked back at him, startled. Then realization dawned on his face, and he slid back beneath the rock.
"Now we know she's there," said Jason.
Gray nodded. "We'd better go."
"Maybe…we should wait a little more. Get all the intel we can."
After the shock of seeing Tasha, Jason didn't think he'd fall asleep again. But then…he had had a long day yesterday…. It had been punctuated with almost more intensity than he'd ever experienced in a single day. And the day was stretching beyond 48 hours…. It still wasn't over.
They carried Tasha away; Jason followed their movements to the stairway, and they disappeared through a door upstairs. He hoped they would at least leave her alone now.
Where's Saul? he wondered.
A few minutes later, the basement door opened, and two guards dragged another limp figure out.
Dark, curly hair—Saul.
They carried him through the French doors and Samar welcomed him with a sardonic gesture as they brought him to where she stood. Meanwhile, the servants cleared the table, leaving just wine glasses and dessert plates. Then the guards let go and Saul collapsed to the floor.
Laughter cheered the crowd's faces. Silent mockery.
Samar crouched down beside him. She caressed his face. He jerked away and scrambled to his knees, his movements stiff with pain.
Empathy shot through Jason, twinging into his own wounds.
Samar rose and then stepped over to him, grasped his chin, forced him to face her. Then with an imperious gesture, she directed the guards to lift him up again.
They hefted him to his feet; this time, he tried to stand, but one leg faltered. From this angle, Saul facing the window, Jason could clearly see wounds—a severe cut on his temple, a slice along his jaw, more cuts showing through his ragged navy blue shirt.
As he struggled, the guards lifted him onto the table and some of the guests lurched from their seats, some looking shocked, some delighted. As they pressed him down to the table's surface, Saul thrashed away from them, hitting some of the guests and plates with his boots. One of the guards rammed a knife into his shoulder, pinning him there.
Jason's eyes snapped shut, his heart clenching with horror. He forced himself to look again, Gray frozen on the ledge beside him.
The guards pulled Saul's arms up and tied them to the end of the table near Samar. The same with his legs. The knife still in his shoulder, agony etched his face.
Jason couldn't believe the man who had been so full of joy, having dinner with his family a few days ago, was now being crushed by enemies.
He burned to go rescue him… but to do so would be to face the same fate.
Time to call the real agents. Including Leila. She would swoop down in righteous vengeance and rescue her husband.
Jason had performed his role. Finding Yavesh—so they could decimate some of their forces.
Perhaps this was even the head—this despicable woman who thought that it was part of a celebration to hurt and humiliate someone.
Jason handed the spyglasses to Gray, who took them stiffly, and called Leila.
Perhaps I should call the NSA first….
But Leila would want to know.
"Jason—you have news?" Beneath a semblance of composure, her voice trembled.
"I found him."
"How is he?"
How do I tell her! "They've hurt him but… he's not severely injured. He's fighting. They've tied him up."
"Where is he?"
Jason told her.
"I'm going in."
"Be careful."
"I know—I have to not make the same mistakes as last time. But I can't let them keep hurting him…."
He gave her what intel he could about the house, feeling a twinge of regret for the devastation of last time. How could he have known? Even spying… I failed that…lured them into a trap—
It's Yavesh. They're exceptional. They're not invincible, though….
After Leila hung up, he called the NSA. Gave them all he knew about the house. They were maddeningly circumspect about it. They wanted to go in carefully, not alert Yavesh, make sure they got them this time. Which made sense. Still. One of their agents had been killed, one seriously injured and captured. He didn't expect them to be as urgent about it as Leila, but… too much caution could be fatal.
The NSA gave them a general ETA—two hours.
What could happen to Saul and Tasha in that amount of time! Hopefully Leila would arrive much sooner. With an overwhelming contingent of agents.
Gray was shivering on the edge of the cliff, and by the anguish on his face, it wasn't from the cold.
"How is he," Jason asked quietly.
Gray closed his eyes, shook his head. He pulled the spyglasses off and laid them on the rock. Then, he leaned his forehead down against the stone.
Dreading what he'd see, Jason put the glasses back on.
They had cut Saul's shirt off and the two guards were slicing into his chest, carving it with careful precision. He still struggled weakly, defiance mixed with the pain on his face, his dark curls tousled.
The guards stepped away and Samar stepped closer, taking one of the knives. She leaned over and kissed him; he thrashed wildly, yanking on the ropes so powerfully it looked almost hard enough to dislocate his joints. She stabbed the knife into his other shoulder, pinning him, and continued the kisses.
I have to stop this—a small insistent voice cut through his shock. Can't let this go on.
But. What can I do? How to not alert them we're here?
Even if I had explosives—they'd be on us in a few minutes—and with a sniper rifle, I wouldn't be able to shoot all of them in time.
What if it seemed like an accident.
The rocks.
Would it be enough—
Better than just—watching….
"Gray," he whispered.
Gray didn't move.
Jason slid closer. "A landslide."
Gray looked up slowly, then hope replaced the despair in his eyes.
They headed over to two boulders not far from the edge of the cliff. It made them exposed to possible watchers, but that was a risk they'd have to take.
Jason and Gray pushed; it rolled a little, then stopped in a small dent. Gray used his walking stick as leverage, though it snapped eventually, and the rock tumbled down the hill, gathering momentum and crashing into rocks and trees, more rocks joining it as it fell. Not waiting for the hit, Jason shoved his good shoulder against the other rock, and with Gray's help it rolled toward the edge. Just as it got to the cliff, Jason leaped back to avoid lurching over it himself. The rock followed the path of the other and smashed into it at the bottom of the hill—right at the edge of the yard.
He didn't wait for them to find him—he turned and ran. Since Gray's walking stick had broken, Jason took Gray's arm, and they ran across the rock, through the bushes, then into the trees.
Relief hit him at the natural cover, but they weren't out of the woods yet. Raindrops flicked into his face; thunder rumbled in the distance. As they reached the end of the path, Gray's legs faltered, and Jason slowed. Gray sank to the ground. He shook his head. "I can't…."
"I've got you. Just a little more."
He looked up at Jason. "I can't—just leave her there."
"Leila will be there soon."
"What if it's too late? What if they do—that—to her?"
"It didn't look like they were focusing on her."
"They could."
"She's probably too injured to interrogate. That's why they're waiting."
"They're…hurting that man, too." He winced.
"Hopefully we've bought him enough time." Jason's heart lurched with sympathy. Torture was one thing. Whatever Samar had been doing…. Jason knew a small fraction of it—the shock and horror of being touched intimately without your consent. He couldn't, didn't want to imagine what Saul was feeling. How you'd given yourself to one person alone, you loved with all your heart, and for that special thing you had together to be taken away…. Even if it was "just" a kiss….
"What if…it's not enough."
Jason was a little startled by Gray's display of empathy…but then, he did know firsthand what such things were like. To care about someone else … someone he didn't even know….it was beyond what he thought Gray was capable of.
"I don't know if there's anything else we can do. We should get out of here."
Fear flashed through Gray's eyes. He nodded and Jason helped him to his feet. Rain streaming down Jason's face, drenching his clothes, they shuffled down the rest of the hill, through the park to the car—agonizingly slowly. But the activity had aggravated Gray's ankle, and you couldn't keep running on adrenaline and painkillers with such a wound.
The car gleamed up ahead, glistening with rain, a bright refuge. Jason helped Gray in and then slid into the driver's seat. He leaned back, exhaustion pressing him to the cushions, damp from his wet clothes.
Hollowness tugged at him.
We should have done more.
What could I have done? Gone in there—risked myself?
Well—we would be rescued before long anyway. I would just…take some of their attention…. Make them torture me instead….
A shudder wracked him. He leaned his head on the steering wheel.
I can't.
Even…for people I know, who don't deserve it.
Leaving him to the wolves…. When I know very well what pain and humiliation do to you…
Regret wrenched his heart. Horror at what Saul must be going through.
If only I knew the distraction was effective…
Perhaps I could find out.
How?
Speak to the only one of theirs who… has a sort of…sympathy with me…
No. I'm not going backwards. I'm cutting any connection with him.
He started the car and turned on the heat. Gripping the steering wheel, slick with rainwater, he drove away from the curb, leaving the twisted mansion behind.
Leaving Saul and Tasha.
An urge hit him to go back—to charge into the house and demand they stop the interrogation. Turn on him instead. For just an hour, maybe less. He could take that.
I vowed never to let them get their hands on me again. To die—or fight to the death. Not be consumed by pain, always fighting to keep my head above water… I have to move beyond it.
There has to be another way.
Perhaps… if Ali can stop it somehow… or if I can stall him… It didn't look like he was there, but he might have been. If I can…offer him something…. A deal of some kind….
Make a trap for him. If he's not there—we still need to capture him…. If he's able to meet me one on one. But he could bring others and I wouldn't be able to find out beforehand.
Call someone to help—
But who can I call that I trust, who isn't already helping? Who isn't incapacitated? That would leave out Markov, Dana, and Amber… Sam of course…
Gray was at the end of his rope. Jason didn't want to ask him to do anything else.
Time was running out. Just call and improvise.
At the very least, keep him occupied.
Ignoring his trepidation, Jason called Ali.
"Jason!" said Ali, his voice full of warmth, as if they weren't on opposite sides in a war.
"Where did you take them."
"Who do you mean?"
"You know."
A hesitation. Then, his voice tinged with a smile, "I suppose I do. Might as well take off my mask." He sighed as if with relief.
"What do you want for them."
"You think I'd actually give them back? They're extremely valuable assets."
It was actually startling to hear him admit it, after all the games. "You didn't have to hurt them—kill all those agents."
"Ah, but we did."
"Why?"
"To send a message, of course. To show who we are."
"The NSA will punish you for this. You can't go up against the power of the United States."
"Oh, can't we?"
"You're just a crime organization. A big one, but…others are bigger."
"Are you so sure about that?"
"What are your limitations."
"We don't have any."
"That's hubris."
"We're the gods in this scenario." A smirk tainted his voice.
"It'll lead to your downfall."
Ali laughed. "So… is that a threat, or a revelation."
"Let them go. If there's something you want in exchange for them…."
"Hm. I'm not sure what you could offer me. Besides yourself, of course."
Chills raced through Jason, enhanced by the cold dampness that was only partly subsumed by the heater.
"I…." He couldn't. Even if it were a pretense.
"The clock is ticking, dear Jason. If you want to save them any more pain…." A pause. A muffled, ragged scream. "Right now, his degradation is proceeding apace. He is quite lovely… I wouldn't mind participating—if it was my thing. You know I want willing cooperation."
"If I say yes—will you stop it."
"I suppose."
"Will you promise to just—take me in yourself. No one else."
"Well… that is a tempting offer. You'd have to promise to be alone, as well."
"I promise," Jason lied, knowing he'd have to take Gray, and that he'd try to slam the trap shut.
"Where do you propose we meet?"
"The lake. Alone." Jason googled a park nearby and told Ali.
"Very well. I'll hold up my end of the deal. If you break yours… well. You know what you'll have done to your agent friends. It can get a lot worse for them. And for you." Ali laughed and hung up.
Jason had to fight to focus on the road, to wind toward his fate.
No—I'll make it. Ali is the one who will be trapped.
"What did he say?" asked Gray.
"I'm…giving myself up."
Horror flashed through Gray's eyes.
"The NSA wants him. I'll call them—set a trap."
Gray only looked slightly relieved, then Jason realized what the NSA meant to him. Only slightly better than the CIA; the ones who had enslaved him.
The NSA dragged their feet a bit, but then agreed. They wanted Ali, of course, but they'd need to organize the op correctly, whatever that meant.
Jason feared they had been a little spooked by Yavesh's devastation of Muldavia's forces, as well as killing one of their own.
If I have to do this by myself…
Fight Ali, when I'm already exhausted, wounded—and he knows the extent of my wounds… Perhaps that's the game he was playing at that whole time—finding out my weaknesses….
He turned to Gray. "You should probably pretend you're not there. You're in no shape to help, and I don't want you to get hurt."
Gray nodded, looking pensive.
His heart sinking, Jason pulled up at the park and ran through the rain to the nearest shelter house. Shivering, he sat on one of the tables facing the lake and looked around for any advantages. Took stock of his own capabilities—of the pain writhing through his shoulder he'd been ignoring till now. He felt the gun in his pocket; Ali hadn't specified "no weapons". He took it out and cradled it in his lap.
The rain on the roof threatened to lull him into a trance-like state. The lake was a dull slate-gray, punctuated by millions of pinpricks. The grass and the lake all blended into a soft misty gray in the semi-dusk.
Out of the mist rose a figure. It came toward him across the beach, ephemeral, phantasmic. Mesmerized, he didn't move until it was too late—a gun trained on him, a lopsided smile on Ali's face, his black curls plastered to his forehead, his green shirt to his torso. Still ghostly, he stepped onto the dry cement, holding his gun a little off kilter. Jason's heart thumped hard—perhaps he could take advantage of Ali's casualness and flash his gun into his hand.
Ali tilted his head. "What's with the gun?"
"In case…you weren't alone."
"Well, as you can see, I kept up my end of the bargain. And I can see you have as well." He gestured with his gun toward the lake. "Shall we?"
"What—go swimming?"
His gun pivoted to pinpoint a boat floating in the middle of the lake "I swam the rest of the way here."
Jason's heart leaped. A glimmer of hope. "So—your gun is basically useless."
Ali shrugged. "It could still fire. It does also have the bludgeoning capability." He sauntered over and sat down beside him in a parody of companionability. He lifted his hand as if to lay it on Jason's; Jason flinched away, and Ali's face fell. "It really is too bad it had to end like this."
"You could give yourself up."
"I mean—we could have kept playing the game. As equals. Our back and forth chess game…endless rounds of it. But it couldn't go on forever."
Think of a way to get at him. That makes sure to defeat him. Mitigate my mistake… I'm not thinking clearly. I should have just gone home. I'm not even remotely close to my optimum. And he's at the top of his game.
But I can't let him take me. At all costs.
If I could be sure that the agents would arrive in time, that I wasn't just an afterthought….
That I actually had it in me to take him down…
"Scheming a way out of this?" said Ali. "You could always back out. We'd take back the agents."
"Where are they."
"Being transferred as we speak. Not to the endpoint yet. So we've got time."
"You've stopped hurting them."
Ali nodded.
Tears of relief threatened; Jason fought them back, struggling for strength. The last remnants of it. After this—home free.
No more trauma.
Stay with Connie forever.
"Why did you agree to this?" Jason asked. "Am I really worth that much? I don't have high-level intel."
"You're worth that much to me. Besides… there are other things you can offer."
"What will you do with me."
"We'll have to ask you some questions. After that… it's up to you. If you want to resist…. Or cooperate."
"I'll never do what you want."
"I won't force you. What I will do is use some gentle persuasion."
"What do you mean by that."
"Wouldn't it be wonderful to fight side by side? To be with me? Just like old times?"
"There never were old times. It was a game, like you said."
"Life's a game. It'll just get more intense—one way or another. You'll join us—or serve us in other ways. After we've drained all the intel out of you, we'll probably have to condition you. Use you in our program. Or, perhaps, sell you. You're the cream of the crop—you'd take high bids."
"I'm old, worn out."
"So you say. I say… you're the most beautiful being I've ever seen." His hand lifted toward Jason's chin, but he withdrew it before Jason could react. He looked away.
Now, said the small voice.
Jason's hand froze on his thigh.
Ali looked at him again, unfiltered longing in his eyes. "The best option is to be with us, fight for us… you could do it, in a certain capacity. We know how to use people to their optimum potential."
Jason shook his head, his heart aching with rebellion against such things. It wouldn't happen unless he was brainwashed into a completely different person. Perhaps Yavesh had methods that could do that… they were beginning to seem nearly omnipotent….
"Perhaps you could even learn to love me…." His hand reached toward Jason.
Jason jerked away, mostly on instinct. He seized his gun, aimed it at Ali.
Sorrow flickered through Ali's eyes. "So you won't come with me after all?"
"Tell me where the agents are."
"I'm sorry, but if you won't come with me, the deal's off. Your agents will be returned to their previous position."
"There'll be a delay before your colleagues know."
"When I don't check in in fifteen minutes, they'll know to transfer the agents back."
"Not if the NSA gets there first."
"I'll never tell. Even if you had all the time in the world."
Maybe this is the alternative way. Sacrifice the man who has no redeeming value, a trafficker motivated by money.
I won't kill him, not unless in self-defense. But sometimes, harsh measures are necessary.
As Ali backed away, his hands held out at his sides, Jason lowered the gun to Ali's leg. "Stop, or I'll shoot."
Ali stopped, his dark eyebrows inquisitive.
"Tell me where Tasha and Saul are."
"Or what? I know you—I know your limits. You don't like torturing people. Not only because it's against your moral code, but because it hurts you to see others in pain. Trauma has dug deep into your soul."
Indignation flashed through him at Ali's assumption of familiarity. He doesn't know me. He has no idea what I'll do. If it's my friends' lives or his comfort—what do you think I'll choose.
"Tell me where they are."
Ali shrugged, looking away toward the lake where the boat bobbed. His hand inched toward his gun on the table. Looked at Jason, as if daring him to shoot.
Anger bolted through him. This man was evil and not worth sparing. Spare him pain in order to send Saul and Tasha into untold horrors?
It was a no-brainer.
He pulled the trigger.
A flash of fire. With the boom of the bullet, Ali collapsed to the cement floor, scrambling for the picnic table but not reaching it before he landed. Doubling up, he pressed his hands to the wound.
Jason stepped toward Ali, gun trained on him. Shock hit him he had done this, but that was drowned out by the rage and the exultation.
"Where are they."
He aimed the gun at Ali's other knee.
Ali glared at him, his face pale with shock and pain, but a wounded indignation in his eyes as well. He shook his head.
Jason leaned down, grasped his hair, thrust it back against the cement. Scraping his knuckles, but he didn't care. He pressed the gun to Ali's cheek.
Fear flashed through Ali's eyes, but the ghost of a smirk brightened his face. "You wouldn't kill in cold blood."
Jason slammed Ali's head back onto the cement. Ali gasped; blood leaked from his mouth, as if he'd bitten his tongue.
A thread of guilt wove through Jason, but not nearly enough to stop him. His fingernails dug into Ali's jaw. "Tell me."
The smirk widened. He spat blood onto the floor and said, "I really have hit a nerve."
A knife stabbed Jason's heart. He fell back a little, his grip loosening on both his gun and Ali's hair.
I vowed never to do this again.
It's someone else who needs help, not me. It's not revenge, like it was with Gray. This isn't a selfish thing.
But still.
What am I doing.
This isn't me.
But how do I rescue them! Time's running out.
"You can't possibly think this amount of pressure would make me give in in time," said Ali. "Fifteen minutes, they'll know you didn't hold up your end of the bargain. Twenty minutes and they'll be taking you down for what you've done. The only real way to save your people is to…go back to the original arrangement."
"I'll never join you."
"Could you at least bind my leg? It's in neither of our best interests that I bleed out."
Reluctantly, Jason ripped a piece from Ali's shirt—a soft, silken material—and bound it around his knee. Blood seeped into it and Jason had to add part of his shirt as well.
"You could take it all the way off," said Ali. "Would be a more efficient bandage. With the added bonus of giving me something to admire while I lie here."
Jason had had enough of his insinuations.
If only I knew what Ali's weaknesses were—something to get to him in the next…five minutes.
Perhaps…I'm his weakness.
Jason's heart rebelled against the potential implications—didn't let himself look at it directly. He knelt beside Ali and let improvisation take over.
"Ali," he said. "What if…we go the opposite route. I take you to a hospital. Take you away from them. I…couldn't give you everything you want. But you could be with me. See me every day."
"That's… a tempting offer. But it's Yavesh you're making the deal with. They're the ones giving up two agents… what would be in it for them?"
"I…don't know."
"You could give some fake government secrets. Or real ones—wouldn't that be worth your agents' lives? Some that aren't relevant or damaging anymore. I could go with you eventually. Pretend to be with them—then I'd run away with you. More than enough compensation for the loss of my business." He smiled through the pain.
"You know I only belong to one."
"I know. Just seeing you, having you near me, is enough. She's quite stunning, too. I'm an admirer of all beauty—attaining it is worth any pain. Could you give me a seal of your promise?"
"Like what."
"Just a kiss."
Jason shook his head. He couldn't do it. Not even for Tasha. Couldn't give away what Connie possessed.
"My lips are too bloody anyway. Anywhere else is fair game."
Revulsion hit him—he couldn't do this.
For Tasha?
Amends, perhaps… for torturing Ali. Though he had no intention of fulfilling the deal. The NSA should be here any minute.
A consolation prize. The only thing Ali would get. And from Jason's end, it would be an apology, nothing more. This…was the only deal that didn't take too much of his soul.
He leaned over, cradling Ali's head. Kissed his forehead. It was warm, damp with sweat. His eyes closed, he silently asked forgiveness for hurting Ali.
Wham! Bright lights sparked across his vision
Pain burst across the bridge of his nose. A hard object slammed into his stomach, and he doubled over, pain throbbing through him.
The gun was kicked from his hand. Blindly, he floundered for it, but a kick slammed into his head, knocking him back against the picnic table, the hard wood jarring him. Another kick, whamming into his side. He fell awkwardly onto his injured shoulder.
Ali's boot ground into his knee. Pain knifed through it; a cry tore from his throat. Shame cut through him for being defeated again.
Ali brandished the gun; it was blurry, its edges vaguely doubled.
"It was a fun fantasy to entertain for a few moments…." He looked wistful. "But they would never let me leave. You can never leave Yavesh without…serious repercussions.
"You are full of surprises—my money wasn't on you torturing me, though it was a distinct possibility after the pressure we put on you. And the kiss—I'll treasure it, though I know you had no feeling behind it. I appreciate the sacrifice." He crouched down next to Jason's side, holding the gun. "I'll give you one more chance. Give yourself up or doom the agents." He narrowed his eyes. "I won't sugarcoat things. They'll be hard on you. This is just a small sample of what you'll have to go through. You've been through so much. But in the end, if you surrender—it'll be much easier on you."
Pain jabbed through the bridge of his nose, almost obliviating the pain in the rest of his body. "You could just…take me whenever you wanted." It hurt to speak.
"I wanted to give you a chance to do it of your own free will. We could still take you. But this way, it would have meaning to you as well. You could have some say in the matter. I care about you, Jason." He smirked sheepishly. "It was nearly my downfall." His eyes darted to his injured leg, the blood leaking through the shredded fabric slightly below his knee. He sat on the floor, bracing with one hand, his injured leg laid out flat, the other bent. "I have some influence, though, so they agreed to this path. Would you like your pain to mean something at least?"
"So…you will take me eventually anyway."
"Perhaps. If you come willingly, I might be able to advocate for you. Mitigate your pain slightly. If you don't…. well. It's all up to them. Come now and have a milder conditioning… or endure unfathomable pain later." He glanced at his watch. "You've got two minutes to decide."
Jason shifted, but each movement sent pain writhing through his muscles. All he wanted to do was lie down and sleep. He felt sick at what Ali had said, but he couldn't think enough to decide coherently.
He almost faded out, his mind slipping into a vague welcoming grayness.
No. I've got to get up, get his gun—
They said they'd take me either way. Fighting will only make it worse.
I will get out of here before they take me. I won't let them—grind me into the ground.
You deserve it for being so weak.
Maybe so. But…I can't leave Connie. I can't give myself up to endless pain—even to set someone else free. I have no guarantee they'd be released, anyway. I've got to leave it to the professional agents who know what they're doing.
"Well?" said Ali. "Time's up."
Jason's heart thudded hard, throbbing through his wounds. He shook his head.
"Very well." Ali backed up, his gun trained on Jason. Jason couldn't do anything anyway—just lie here aching, waiting for unconsciousness to sweep him into blissful oblivion.
BOOM!
He jumped. Then he turned slightly, which sent pain blazing through him. Gray was advancing across the lawn, his gun aimed at Ali.
Ali clutched his shoulder, blood leaking through his fingers, his gun still gripped in his other hand.
Two more gunshots in quick succession
Gray stumbled—but Ali collapsed backward, staring up at the dark gray sky.
Gray strode over to Ali, despite his wounded leg, and ripped the gun from his hand. Ali stirred, gesturing for Gray to come closer.
Jason wanted to shout to Gray not to fall for it—
Gray crouched down, his gun pressed to Ali's temple. Jason glimpsed righteous anger in Gray's eyes, his face like chiseled stone.
Ali grasped his shirt, whispered in his ear. Gray's expression seemed to change; Jason wasn't sure what it meant from this distance. Surprise, maybe even hope….
Gray stood, facing the lake, his injured leg bent slightly. For several minutes, he gazed into the distance, as if trying to see something.
Then, out of the mist, several boats appeared, speeding up to the shore.
Figures jumped out, racing toward Gray and Ali, who were not far from the bank.
Gray stood stoically even when they surrounded him. A few figures lifted Ali onto a stretcher, tending to his wounds, then they raced toward the boats, kicking up soaked sand on the beach, Gray borne away in their current.
Jason longed to scream after him, but his voice stuck in his throat.
He tried to move, but he felt infinitely cold.
Gray climbed into the boat, rather stiff and rigid, yet a certain noble set to his face.
The boats rumbled away across the waves into the dark, and in a few moments all of the figures were subsumed by the mist and rain, as if they had never been.