Enemy of Mine

She saw my reluctance and said, “Please? I need to ask you a favor.”

I opened the door and pointed at the lone chair in the tiny room. I climbed back on the bed.

“You got a preference on channels?”

“An English one would be nice.”

“I got Doogie Howser in German. Will that work?”

She smiled. “Sure.”

I flipped the TV, turned down the sound of bad dubbing, and said, “What’s up?”

“How are you getting to his hotel tonight?”

“Taxi.”

“You think that’s smart?”

“Well, it’s smarter than walking. Trains have quit running this late.”

“Yeah, that’s my point. You’ll be remembered when they find Lucas. I mean, you’ll probably be one of two cabs who stop there tonight. You and Lucas himself.”

“So, you have a better idea?”

“Yes. Let me drive you.”

The offer surprised me, but it was out of the question.

“No way. Nobody else is getting involved. Especially you.”

“Why? You need the help. Why ‘especially me’?”

I hadn’t meant for that to slip out, but I meant it. We’d never had our big talk on where we stood in our relationship, even though she’d threatened it a couple of times-scaring the hell out of me-so I’d never really told her how I felt about her. Truthfully, I was afraid of rejection and had tricked myself into believing that I was content with a lesser connection of being simple business partners. A little Jennifer was much better than none. But that didn’t alter the fact that I would protect her from harm, whether she felt the same way about me or not. Especially since this harm was easily averted.

“Jennifer, you’re not going with me. Period. Out of the question.”

She came over and sat on the bed next to me, pulling up a pillow to place behind her back. And revealing the Glock.

She stared at it for a second, a look of regret on her face, as if she’d caused it to appear. She said, “Pike, I want to be a part of this. I feel responsible. I’m the one who told you. I want to help.”

I waved my hand. “Quit it. It’s not going to happen. Just drop it.”

“It is going to happen, dammit! I am going to be a part of this operation!”

Whoa. Where’s that coming from?

Before I could say anything, she continued. “Pike, it’s my fault. I’m the reason you’re doing this. I’m the one who brought it about. I know you don’t understand. I don’t expect you to, but I need this. I need to be a part of the operation. It can’t be all you. We both suffer the consequences. I can’t have you doing this alone based solely on what I told you.”

What the hell was she talking about? Because she found the hotel rooms, she should be culpable for his death?

I decided to end this with a lie. “Okay, okay. Head on back to your room. I’ll call you when I get the trigger he’s back in bed.”

She said, “Why don’t I just stay here?”

“Because I want to be alone, all right?”

She squinted at me, catching the whiff of dishonesty, but walked to the door. She opened it and said, “You’d better call.”

I said, “I will. Go.”

I lay back on the bed, thinking again of what I was doing. More and more, it didn’t seem right. Maybe it was simply disingenuous mental gymnastics, but Taskforce operations were sanctioned at the highest levels of government. When we went out on a hit, we did so after a thorough vetting, always because the target was a distinct threat to American lives. Doing this on my own, simply for revenge, was beginning to eat at my soul.

We operated with rules for a reason. I wondered if ignoring them made me no different than Lucas. Made me like the stalker of my dreams. A murderer.

Time passed quickly, and when I looked at the motel clock, I was surprised to see it was now past one A.M. The call would be coming at any moment. I made my decision and felt a measure of peace immediately.

Sorry, Ethan, but you know it’s the right choice.

I reached for the phone to call surveillance when there was a knock on the door. Jennifer stood behind it, causing a little thread of anger.

“What are you doing here? I said I’d call.”

“I couldn’t sleep, and I figured it was getting close, so I came back.”

She glanced away, refusing to look me in the eye. She can’t lie worth a damn. But apparently you can’t either. She knew you weren’t going to call.

“Well, you can go to bed for good. The mission’s off.”

She said, “Why? Did he get on a train or something?”

“No. It’s me. I’m not going to pull the trigger.”

69

It took a moment before the implications of his words settled into Jennifer’s mind.

No, no, NO. He can’t get a conscience now.

She said, “What do you mean? What happened?”

Pike turned away from the door, saying over his shoulder, “I can’t do it. I’m going to call Kurt tomorrow, tell him everything we have and get him on board. Make it legal.”

Jennifer said, “Pike, you know that won’t work. Kurt will flip out that we’re even in Germany. He’ll order us home and then rip us apart. Even if he agrees, he’ll want a support team here, and we don’t have time for that.”

He held up his hand. “Let it go. I’ve been thinking about it for two days. I’m not going to do the hit unsanctioned. Either Kurt facilitates or he doesn’t, but I’m not going off on a vendetta like a Mafia hit man. It’s eating me alive, and I don’t like the damage.”

Jennifer heard what he said and felt shame for what she was putting Pike through. She considered letting it go when that day sprang forth. Lucas’s hot breath, the lamp cord cutting into her hands on the bed as she tried to keep him away, the beating she had taken.

That bastard deserves to die. And Pike deserves to kill him.

“Pike, I need to show you something.”

“Jennifer, forget it. You didn’t see me at my worst. It was a living hell, and this damn mission is bringing me back.”

“Please sit down.”

He did.

Jennifer said, “I found more than Ethan’s driver’s license in Lucas’s room.”

“What do you mean?”

Jennifer pulled out an ID card and handed it to him. She watched him recognize the face, then saw him begin to change before her very eyes. The resignation of only a moment ago disappeared, replaced by a rising tsunami of violence rippling just underneath the surface. A rage vibrating the very air around him. She felt the threat from across the room, and knew she’d made a mistake.

His face twisted toward her, almost unrecognizable, the scar on his cheek standing out stark white against the mottled red of his fury. “Where the fuck did you get this? What are you up to? Some parlor trick to get me to destroy myself? Why?”

He leapt to his feet, shouting now. “Jesus Christ, I can’t believe you’d do this! I don’t even know you! I don’t