back what was mine. There is nothing left between us. I told you that. I told you… ”
Horatio started forward. His pistol was a semiautomatic, to be sure, and he raised it to Noboru’s belly.
“Nathan, it ends tonight. You’ve made a fool out of us. And now we’ll send a message that no one can do that. Not ever. Now… hands behind your head! Kneel!”
Noboru tensed. “I’ve been your life’s work, huh? What’re you going to do without me? Who’re you going to chase?”
“You haven’t called your parents recently, have you?” said Gothwhiler.
Noboru began to lose his breath. “We had an agreement from the very beginning about them.”
“You gave them the money. They spent it. They paid the price.”
“You’re lying.”
“No, I’m not.” Horatio raised his gun and pointed it at Noboru’s forehead.
Noboru took a deep breath. He was going to spring up and attack Horatio, taking his chances — knowing full well he would probably be shot — but perhaps the round would not kill instantly the way a head shot would. He would not be executed. He would fight. And death would, as he’d promised himself, bring relief.
“Pathetic boy,” Gothwhiler sang. “My grandfather was shooting you people out of trees during World War II.”
Noboru was about to reach out when a short clap from nearby echoed down into the ravine.
An odd look came over Horatio’s face. Then he just dropped to the ground.
Noboru craned his head in time to see Gothwhiler take a round two inches behind his temple. The gaunt man’s head wrenched back as he toppled to the ground and lay there, immobile, blood pouring from his wound.
The two perfectly executed shots, from a remarkable sniper, left Noboru breathless. Absolutely breathless.
Yet even through the shock, he still recognized the sound of an SC- 20 rifle and its 5.56mm ammo. There was no mistaking it. Someone on the team had just saved his life.
Or someone who just happened to have an SC-20 rifle.
Noboru stared off to his right, narrowing his eyes toward the shadows running along the cliff. He focused on a fallen log overlooking the lip of the ravine. That had to be the sniper’s nest. Slowly, he lowered his hands from behind his head and pulled himself up into a crouch, still wary as he shifted right toward where he had tossed his pistol.
A round punched into the mud not six inches from his hand.
He lifted both palms and slowly stood.
It was Fisher. Had to be.
All Noboru could do was shrug. The man could easily kill him now.
Noboru just stood there, waiting for some sign or indication that it was okay for him to move. None came. Then he spotted movement near the bridge, just twenty feet from it, and turned his head for a better look.
A voice rang out. “No. Face the cars.”
Definitely Fisher.
Noboru complied. “Was that you?”
“Was that me, what?”
Noboru jerked his head toward Horatio and Gothwhiler. “Them.”
“I needed their car. Something told me they weren’t cooperative types.”
Noboru swallowed. Fisher had no idea what he had just done, no idea of the immeasurable burden that had just been lifted from Noboru’s shoulders, and all he could manage at the moment was a simple “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” Fisher said curtly.
Noboru opened his mouth, about to ask a half dozen questions about Fisher’s mission, about what the hell was really going on, when he felt the Cottonball make contact with his right shoulder, and the world went dark.
32
Valentina had been farther away from the flash-bang grenade when it went off, so she’d been able to recover more quickly than Hansen and now helped him back outside, through the main bunker door. He still couldn’t see much, and she had a few sparklers winking in her peripheral vision.
Having heard a pair of gunshots from outside, Ames and Gillespie had taken up sniper positions and had reported frantically that they thought Noboru had been killed. He was on the ground and not answering their calls.
As her heart raced and eyes began to ache, Valentina guided Hansen out the door and told him to sit down there, under cover. Noboru was up near the cars, and she’d be right back. He barely heard her, saying his ears were ringing loudly, and she understood, the explosion still echoing in her head.
With her mind screaming that this kind and gentle man might be dead, she climbed up to the road and knelt before him. Her trembling hand touched his neck, and she searched for a pulse.
The other two men, a heavyset bald guy with horrible burn scars and a scrawny man with hair dyed jet-black, lay on the ground in pools of blood. She reported her findings to the rest of the team, and Hansen told Ames and Gillespie to rally at his position and help him get up there.
Noboru began to stir, and Valentina ran fingers down his cheek. That felt a little too good. She shivered. “Nathan, it’s Maya. Can you hear me?”
His eyes flickered open, and then he seemed to focus on her. Finally, he smiled weakly, and she allowed herself to breathe easier.
“Are you shot? I don’t see any wounds,” she said. “What happened?”
He took a moment to consider, then motioned for her to help him sit up. She did, and he rubbed the back of his head and said, “Just a Cottonball.”
“Was it Fisher?”
He nodded.
“Who’re these guys?”
Before he could answer, Ames, Gillespie, and Hansen came up and over the hill, onto the shoulder.
“Aw, hell, look at that,” Ames cried, pointing at their cars. Only then did Valentina notice that the rear tires on both of their Audis were flat.
“Each car’s got a spare,” said Gillespie. So we’ll still have a functional ride, once we swap out the tires.”
“Time enough for Fisher to get a big lead on us.”
“Hey, who’re these guys?” asked Ames, staring at the two bodies.
“Maybe they were the guys tailing us back in France,” said Valentina.
Hansen squinted at the men. “I’m seeing a little better now. Nathan, what the hell happened?”
Noboru had to decide how he’d answer, and for a few breaths he sat there, letting Hansen’s question hang as all eyes turned on him. Perhaps it was the rush of relief that overwhelmed him, he wasn’t sure, but he decided right then and there to tell them everything. The truth. Now that they were dead, the pressure was gone, and he should also relieve himself of the burden of carrying around the secrets of his past.
So he let it all out: the job with Gothos, the mission, his claiming what they owed him, the night they chased him…
And when he was finished, he added, “I spoke to Fisher. He saved my life. We can’t kill him. We have to take him alive.”
Ames crossed in front of Noboru and got in his face. “We’ll take him any way we can — and if you can’t handle that, then maybe we need to talk to Grim and get you sent back home, Brucie. Got it?”
