Suddenly, an explosion that dwarfed the first two shredded the fabric of the night, and an enormous fireball mushroomed into the sky, turning night into day, lighting the distant ocean, casting enormous shadows. Flaming tendrils spiked high in the air from what was left of the fuel tank and the generator; shooting starlike bits tore through the sky, shrapnel rained down, crashing like tiny meteors. The blast of heat ignited trees, curling leaves, shattering the windows of the mansion. A river of fire raced toward the stone estate.
Cristos bolted in shock, diving for cover. He reached for his gun, instantly aiming it at Jack.
With nowhere to run, Jack raced into the mansion.
He cut through the foyer, its white marble painted red with the glow of flames, only to find three of Cristos’s men charging his way, guns drawn.
Jack quickly cut through the parlor toward the rear of the house as gunfire erupted around him.
Frank raced for the rear of the mansion. Seeing Jack run into the house was not on their agenda, nor was hearing the two distant gunshots from where they had left the boat. Hugging the rear of the stone facade, he sought and found an open door. Stepping into the mudroom, he reached behind him and pulled out a second pistol from the small of his back. He knew there were at least three to face, plus Cristos.
Gunfire exploded around Jack. He was pinned behind the stairs, nowhere to go. He could see the muzzle flashes coming from across the hall and knew it would be only moments before he was shot or they were upon him. His mind focused. He hadn’t come this far only to fail now. Somehow he would escape his position and-
The gunfire stopped…
And a gun came to rest against Jack’s head.
“Can’t kill you, but there’s plenty we can do short of that.” The man stood over him; he aimed his gun at his leg and began to pull the trigger.
A gunshot exploded, and the man fell dead to the floor beside Jack.
“You’re supposed to run away from the house, not into it,” Frank said as he crouched next to Jack, handing him a gun.
The gunfire resumed, chipping away at the stairway around them.
“I’ve got to get to Mia,” Jack said between breaths.
“Back door. I got your back.”
Frank aimed his gun and began firing as Jack raced away.
The night was awash in fire as Jack headed for the woods. He had no idea where she was but prayed that Mia was being Mia, staying alive for their girls.
As he raced across the backyard, Jack saw Frank through the window, racing down a hallway, and suddenly stopped, overcome with deja vu.
Jack was the better shot, always had been, and yet it was Frank who was facing Cristos’s men. Jack knew if he was to find Mia, it was far better if they searched together instead of splitting up. He hoped it wasn’t too late as he turned and ran frantically across the yard back into the house.
Entering the darkened house, the glow of flame diminishing, Jack was thankful for his heightened sight. He tuned his ears, listening, and the sound of gunfire filled them.
Jack charged down the hallway and kicked in the door of the library to find Frank pinned behind an overturned table. Two shooters had taken up positions flanking him, relentlessly shooting away. Frank stayed tucked low. Jack could see his thick arms flexed in stress as he gripped his pistol, waiting for an opportunity to fire back. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, Jack took everything in, the flame from the exploding barrels, the smoke drifting skyward in fingerlike wisps, the bullets exploding around the table, splinters shattering, flying around.
Jack drew his pistol, and with two shots, he took out each shooter, their heads snapping backward in abrupt death. Jack didn’t need to confirm his kills as he raced to Frank’s side.
“Took you long enough.”
“Sorry,” Jack said as he crouched down.
But then Frank rolled toward him, and Jack could see the crimson stain blossoming on his shirt, just above his heart, the blood pulsing out of him.
“Not again!” Jack cried out.
“Hey, you knew this was inevitable.”
“No. It’s not inevitable. I can change this.”
“No, Jack. Shut up.” Frank’s speech slowed, his eyes falling to half-mast as his life ebbed. “Save Mia. That’s all that matters; that is the only fate you can change.”
Jack pulled him closer.
“I’m sorry I never met her.”
Jack stared at him, confused at his words. “I don’t understand.”
“You will.” And Frank’s eyes slid closed as a final breath escaped his lips.
Jack’s heart broke as he laid his hand across his friend’s head.
His own head throbbed, events of his life merging and falling apart all at once.
“Jack,” Mia whispered.
He turned to see Cristos standing in the doorway, his gun jammed into Mia’s neck.
“Seems you can’t save anyone today, huh?” Cristos said. “Where are my things?”
“I’m sorry, Jack,” Mia whispered.
“No. This is my fault. I’m sorry.”
“My things?” Cristos cut in.
“Let her go, and I’ll give them to you.”
“We tried that once already.”
“Kill her, and it will all burn.”
“I will say this only one time. No more idle threats.” Cristos’s voice grew calm. “If it burns, I will kill you both and pay a visit to your children. I will kill one of them in front of the other and take the second child to raise her as my own.”
CHAPTER 44
Jack walked with Mia at his side; Cristos was ten feet back, his gun trained on Mia. He led them across the long front yard, past the docks, heading north, the grade growing steeper for two hundred yards until they finally arrived at the base of the lighthouse, where the wind whipped the rain into a maelstrom on the high, rocky point. The white structure stood sixty feet tall, its bright light turning in a slow arc, casting its beam out into the world.
Jack opened the door to find the floor covered in a pool of gasoline, his backpack hanging from a nail in the circular stairs. Jack grabbed the bag and reluctantly stepped outside, passing it to Cristos. Keeping his gun trained on them, Cristos knelt on the muddy ground, oblivious to the rain that fell around them.
He dug through the bag, pulling out the passport and tossing it away. He found the dagger and looked at it under the wash of the lighthouse beam, its jewels sparking so many memories, but he tossed it, too. He found his prayer book and dumped it aside, finally pulled out the second book that belonged to his father. A smile of triumph creased his face as he turned back the red leather cover. He began thumbing through it, allowing the rain to fall on the pages to reveal his father’s hidden writing. He kept turning, lost in thought, as he absorbed his father’s words. Finally, he came to a section near the end, and his smile was washed away.
He flipped the pages ahead, back…
“There are pages missing.”
“I know.”
“Where are the pages?
“They were already torn out.”
“Bullshit!”
“How would I even know what pages to tear out?”
