happens?'
'You think he's making a move?'
'You got anything else that makes sense?'
'Anything happens to Eddie, there could be trouble. I don't think I can -'
'Let me handle it? I have a way that'll work just fine.'
'Tell me about it,' Piaggi said. Two minutes later he nodded approval.
'Why did you come here?' Sandy asked while she and Kelly cleaned up the dinner table. Sarah took Doris back upstairs for more rest.
'I wanted to see how she was doing.' But that was a lie, and not an especially good one.
'It's lonely, isn't it?' Kelly took a long time to answer.
'Yeah.' She'd forced him to face something. Being alone was not the sort of life he wanted to have, but fate and his own nature had forced it on him. Every time he'd reached out, something terrible had happened. Vengeance against those who had made his life into what it now was did make for a purpose, but it wasn't enough to fill the void they'd created. And now it was clear that what he was doing, all of it, was merely distancing him from someone else. How did life get so complicated as this?
'I can't say it's okay, John. I wish I could. Saving Doris was a fine thing, but not through killing people. There is supposed to be another way -'
' - and if there isn't, then what?'
'Let me finish?' Sandy asked quietly.
'Sorry.'
She touched his hand. 'Please be careful.'
'I usually am, Sandy. Honest.'
'What you're doing, what you're going off to, it's not -'
He smiled. 'No, it's a real job. Official stuff and everything.'
'Two weeks?'
'If it goes according to plan, yes.'
'Will it?'
'Sometimes it actually does.'
Her hand squeezed his. 'John, please, think it over. Please? Try to find another way. Let it go. Let it stop. You saved Doris. That's a wonderful thing. Maybe with what you've learned you can save the others without - without any more killing?'
'I'll try.' He couldn't say no to that, not with the warmth of her hand on his, and Kelly's trap was that his word, once given, could not be taken back. 'Anyway, I have other things to worry about now.' Which was true.
'How will I know, John -I mean -'
'About me?' He was surprised she would even want to know.
'John, you can't just leave me not knowing.'
Kelly thought for a moment, pulled a pen from his coat, and wrote down a phone number. 'This goes to a guy - an admiral named James Greer. He'll know, Sandy.'
'Please be careful.' Her grip and her eyes were desperate now.
'I will, I promise. I'm good at this, okay?'
So wasTim. She didn't have to say it. Her eyes did, and Kelly understood how cruel it could be to leave anyone behind.
'I have to go now, Sandy.'
'Just make sure you come back.'
'I will. Promise.' But the words sounded empty, even to him. Kelly wanted to kiss her but couldn't. He moved away from the table, feeling her hand still on his. She was a tall woman, and very strong and brave, but she'd been hurt badly before, and it frightened Kelly that he might bring yet more pain to her life. 'See you in a couple weeks. Say goodbye to Sarah and Doris for me, okay?'
'Yes.' She followed him towards the front door. 'John, when you get back, let it stop.'
'I'll think about it,' he said without turning, because he was afraid to look at her again. 'I will.'
Kelly opened the door. It was dark outside now, and he'd have to hustle to get to Quantico on time. He could hear her behind him, hear her breathing. Two women in his life, one taken by accident, one by murder, and now perhaps a third whom he was driving away all by himself.
'John?' She hadn't let go of his hand, and he had to turn back despite his fear.
'Yes, Sandy?'
'Come back.'
He touched her face again, and kissed her hand, and drew away. She watched him walk to the Volkswagen and drive off.
Even now, she thought. Even now he's trying to protect me.
Is it enough? Can I stop now? But what was 'enough'?
'Think it through,' he said aloud. 'What do you know that others can use?'
It was quite a lot, really. Billy had told him much, perhaps a sufficient amount. The drugs were processed on one of those wrecked ships. He had Henry's name, and Burt's. He knew a senior narcotics officer was in Henry's employ. Could the police take that and spin it into a case firm enough to put them all behind bars for drug trafficking and murder? Might Henry get a death sentence? And if the answer to every question was yes, was that good enough?
As much as Sandy's misgivings, his association with the Marines had brought the same questions to the front of his mind. What would they think if they knew that they were associating with a murderer? Would they see it that way or would they be sympathetic to his point of view?
'The bags stink,' Billy had said. 'Like dead bodies, like the stuff they use.'
What the hell did that mean? Kelly wondered, going through town one last time. He saw police cars operating. They couldn't all be driven by corrupt cops, could they?
'Shit,' Kelly snarled at the traffic. 'Clear your mind, sailor. There's a job waiting, a real job.'
But that had said it all. boxwood green was a real job, and the realization came as clear and bright as the headlights of approaching cars. If someone like Sandy didn't understand - it was one thing to do it alone, just with your own thoughts and rage and loneliness, but when others saw and knew, even people who liked you, and knew exactly what it was all about... When even they asked you to stop...
Where was right? Where was wrong? Where was the line between them? It was easy on the highway. Some crew painted the lines, and you had to stay in the proper lane, but in real life it wasn't so clear.
Forty minutes later he was on 1-495, the Washington Beltway. What was more important, killing Henry or getting those other women out of there?
Another forty and he was across the river into Virginia. Seeing Doris - what a dumb name - alive, after the first time when she'd been almost as dead as Rick. The more he thought about it, the better that seemed.
boxwood green wasn't about killing the enemy. It was about rescuing people.
He turned south on Interstate 95, and a final forty-five or so delivered him to Quantico. It was eleven-thirty when he drove into the training site.
'Glad you made it,' Marty Young observed sourly. He was dressed in utilities for once instead of his khaki shirt.
Kelly looked hard into the General's eyes. 'Sir, I've had a bad enough night. Be a pal and stow it, all right?'
Young took it like the man he was. 'Mr Clark, you sound like you're ready.'
That isn't what it's about, sir. Those guys in sender green are ready.'
'Fair enough, tough guy.'
'Can I leave the car here?'
'With all these clunkers?'
Kelly paused, but the decision came quickly enough. 'I think it's served its purpose. Junk it with the rest of 'em.
'Come on, the bus is down the hill a ways.' Kelly collected his personal gear and carried them to the staff car. The same corporal was driving as he sat in the back with the Marine aviator who wouldn't be going.
'What do you think, Clark?'
