A silence filled the room. Merl cleared his throat. "Stay with him, Lenox. Let's give this some time to play out. The focus now is his physical recovery."
We all agreed to that and then moved on to discussing the video. "I think we should hold off, not release it," I said. "I've got a response plan in place in case someone else does, but it does nothing for us at this time." The other members of the council agreed with me. They trusted me totally.
Then Dan filled them in on what he'd learned about the prophet. "Anita," Dan said, after revealing my connection to her, "wants to head to London and ask around, see what she can find out."
"That concerns me," Merl said. "Won't the CIA and other intelligence agencies be asking around? Won't it be strange for Anita to suddenly show up? I don't want her on their radar."
"I can keep an eye out for that kind of thing," Dan said.
Merl smiled and nodded. "I'm sure, but you can't prevent them from noticing her; all you can do is find out if they have."
"I'm willing to risk it," I said. "This is important to me."
Merl frowned. "I appreciate your bravery, but we can't afford to lose you."
"You won't," I promised.
Merl reluctantly agreed, as did Lenox. I sent up a small prayer that I would not let them down. Words from the Gita floated into my mind…it is nature that causes all movement. Deluded by the ego, the fool harbors the perception that says "I did it".
I could not let them down. But I could fail. And I could die.
Chapter Eleven
Home Away From Home
Sydney
The blades kicked up clouds of dust, and I had to cover my eyes as we ran away from the helicopter. Robert's hand on my elbow steered me through the darkness behind my lids. Blue's nose tapping my hip let me know he was by my side.
The sound of the blades receded, and I opened my eyes. The sun slid down the west side of the world, attaching long, dark shadows to the boulders around us.
Robert led me along a sandy path and around a bend where a small cabin, the same color as the landscape, sat against the rocks. Next to it a camouflaged tarp covered what looked like a motorcycle.
The fact that Robert had safe houses in the desert didn't surprise me. It did surprise me that when he opened the door it revealed an adorable space rather than something stark and primitive.
There were curtains on the windows, a queen-sized bed with a thick comforter, and a small kitchen, the shelves lined with canned foods.
Robert moved into the cabin, sitting down on one of the two chairs at the tiny kitchen table to untie his boots. "It's best not to wear shoes in here," he said. "Gets dirty really fast." He gestured with his chin toward the open door. "Sand tracks in." His eyes fell on Blue and he frowned. "Of course with that guy in here, taking off our shoes is almost pointless."
"Well, we won't be here long," I said. "We wanna get moving immediately don't we? Find her."
"No."
"What do you mean?"
"We're not gonna run out of here. We need to rest, pack our supplies. This isn't gonna be one of your charging-off-into-the-sunset-wanting-to-die-moments, Sydney." His eyes found mine, and they were hard. He wasn't going to be argued with. He wasn't going to do what I wanted...until he was good and ready.
"Fair enough. But, I'll point out that I have no intention of dying."
I sat on the other chair and began to untie my own laces.
Robert, in socked feet, went over to the kitchen sink to wash his hands.
"There's an outhouse through there." He gestured with his chin toward a door in the back wall of the cabin. "We'll sleep here tonight and head out in the morning. It gets really hot during the day, so I suggest we leave before the sun rises and then rest during the height of the heat."
"How far a walk is it from here?"
"Shouldn't take more than a day."
"We couldn't get dropped off any closer?" I wanted to find this woman, resolve this.
"No. We couldn't get dropped off closer. Don't be ridiculous."
"Why is that ridiculous?" I asked, kicking off my boots.
"You just—" Robert turned to me, drying his hands on a dish towel and leaning against the kitchen counter. "You just want everything to be your way."
I laughed. A good belly laugh. "You're one to talk. I never met a man who gets his way as much as you."
His eyes heated with anger. "You always get your way with me."
"Really? I do?"
"Yes." He turned back to the kitchen and started pulling down cans of beans.
"It seems like you're forgetting our very first argument."
"When I killed your brother's murderer. Did you a favor that you have held against me for years." He didn't turn around, but his voice was flat again, and I could guess that his expression had stilled. "Is that why you want to kill me?"
"He was mine to destroy. You stole that from me."
Robert began to open a can of beans. "I didn't steal anything from you. I did you a favor. Besides, that was eons ago. Since then, I've saved your life numerous times. I funded your vigilante network. I've done everything I could. Everything in my power to show you how much ..."
He didn't finish the sentence.
The can popped open and he lifted the lid, reaching for another can.
"I'd say 9 out of 10 times that you saved my ass it was really your ass that you were saving." I countered. "You're the most selfish human being on the planet. The only reason you help anyone is because you think it will help you."
"That's not true." He turned back to me, his mouth a grim line.
"Yes, it is. You destroyed the company that you built in order to make a shit ton of money. Also, so that you wouldn't have to face Joyful Justice anymore. You needed to change your ways, or you were going to get fucked by us."
A small smile pulled at the edge of his mouth. "I did it all for you, Sydney."
"That's another thing that's for you. Thinking you're doing it for me. Seriously, I bet if you ask any of your ex-wives—anyone you've ever worked with and they weren't afraid you'd kill them—they'd tell you that you're the most selfish man on the planet."
His eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms…his hands close to his pistol. My body tensed. Robert Maxim was a dangerous man. His selfishness was part of his power. If you don't care about anyone but yourself, decisions become simple. Easy. Whereas when you're trying to help others, suddenly you have to weigh options. Have to weigh who will get hurt.
"You think I'm the most selfish man on the planet? You're the most selfish woman."
I shook my head. "I doubt it. But I'm not perfect."
He tipped his head back and laughed. His Adam's apple bobbing up and down.
"What's so funny?"
"Look at us," he said. "You and me, the most selfish people in the world. On a mission to go find a prophet from God. And what? Kill her?"
His gaze found mine. His blue-green eyes were bright with humor.
"Depends on what she has to say for herself," I said.
He laughed again. "You'd kill the woman who is freeing your sex from oppression."
"Is that what she's doing?"
"There is a revolution happening. There are women standing up and fighting against men for the first time ever."
"Not for the first time ever. Suffragettes and their kind have existed forever," I said, waving my hand at him. Just like Robert Maxim to ignore the value of the women's movement of the past several centuries.
"Here's the difference. These women are doing it for God. Do you know how much more powerful that is?"
I rolled my shoulders, not wanting to think too hard on it.
"When you do something for God, it's much more powerful than doing it for yourself, or your children, or your sisters." His voice dripped with condescension. Robert didn't have much respect for faith. "When you do it for God, you're doing it for so much more. It gives you a purpose. It gives your life value. That's why all these motherfuckers do this."
Robert waived his arm around us, encompassing all motherfuckers who did anything. "All these Isis idiots, those crazy Christians holding "God hates fags" signs at military funerals. They're all doing it because they want their lives to have meaning."
"That sounds kind of selfish," I said with a smile.
Robert laughed again and turned back to his beans.
"Maybe it is selfish. But I think it's powerful. I think the woman we're going to find is incredibly powerful. Incredibly smart. And the most dangerous person on the planet right now."
A shiver ran up my spine. Robert Maxim was often right. What if I destroyed someone who could save us all just because I was selfish?
Robert
I woke up with a jolt. Blue sat at the end of the bed, his ears perked, watching me. Sydney was on her side, curled away from me. The cabin was dark, the moonlight filtering in from outside pale—it was a new moon.
I'd been here on nights when the moon was full, and it practically looked like daylight outside. Tonight was the kind of night to stare at stars.
I had fallen asleep hard and fast. Exhaustion flooding over me and sinking me down so quickly that I hardly had a moment to enjoy the fact that I was in a bed with Sydney Rye.
I rolled toward her, staring at the back of her head. Blue watched me. If I touched her, he would stop me.
What had woken me? And why was Blue awake?
I listened closely but didn't hear anything. Getting out of the bed, I checked my phone. There was a message from Deacon.
The eagle is aware. Time to move on.
Martha knew.
The message had just arrived, but I had no idea how much time we had. Martha must have sent a team after me. Did she know the location of the safe house? It was possible.
I looked back over at the bed. Sydney's face was soft in sleep, her features mellowed, and the hard line of her brow smooth.
Her body was a series of soft curves. She looked more womanly, more feminine, in sleep. While awake and in action, there was a masculine edge to her. Or at least what society called a masculine edge.
I'd seen more and more of that type of movement since the Her prophet arrived on the scene. There was a way that women were walking now--that they didn't believe the centuries, the millennia of proof that they were the weaker sex. They were starting to realize how much power they held.
A shiver ran over me. What if all women were like Sydney Rye? Where would that leave the world?
It was ridiculous. There were few people as violent or cunning as her. No amount of belief in a prophet would change that.
But it could change a lot.
"Sydney," I whispered softly. Her eyes flicked open and found me in the darkness where I stood a few feet away at the table. "We need to move."
She sat up quickly and her eyes went to Blue. He stepped to her side.
I packed our bags, adding freeze-dried food, water purification tablets and sunscreen. I'd fashioned a pack for Blue so that he could carry supplies as well. We'd take my motorcycle as far as possible then trek the rest of the way. We'd be going slowly enough on this rough terrain for Blue to follow the bike.
Stepping outside as Sydney tied on her boots, I pulled the cover off my motorcycle, an all-black Ducati that I had fitted with specialty tires for the desert terrain. I ran my hand over its curves. It was like a woman. Like a tough, fast woman. My favorite kind.
The desert night was cold, and I turned up the collar of my jacket against its icy fingers. Sydney and Blue stepped out of the cabin as I stashed the packs.
"The bike can carry everything for now. But I've made a backpack for Blue too."
"That's smart." Sydney's voice was quiet.
I looked up at her, raising my brows. "What's up?"
"Nothing." But she didn't sound like herself. Was she about to fall under another influence? Was I about to lose Sydney Rye? What if it happened on the bike and she tried to kill me?
"Sydney." I walked up to her and took her by the shoulders, staring into her eyes. Her dark gray irises glinted up at me. "What am I gonna do if you lose it? If you try and kill me?"
Her lips curled up in a predatory smile. "You could let me drive." She gave a small shrug. "That way you know where my hands are. And like I said, I'm not suicidal."
"You're not suicidal. But who knows what the prophet did to you. Who knows what she planted in that brain of yours." I searched her face. Trying to find some evidence, some clue…but there was nothing there. Just the scars, the fine lines of aging, and the bright eyes of the woman I loved.
I'd die for her. I'd even let her drive my Ducati.
"Just to prove to you I'm not selfish, I'll let you drive."
"That doesn't prove you're not selfish, Robert. If you're letting me drive so that you can be sure I won't murder you, then it's totally selfish. You see my point?" She raised her eyebrows at me.
I laughed. "I don't think that's the case. I'm letting you drive my bike because I think you'll enjoy it. And I want you to be happy."
It was her turn to laugh. "You want me to be happy? Wow. Is that a thing? Happiness?"
I shrugged and gestured for her to get on the bike first. "You tell me after you handle this beauty."
Her eyes ran over the bike like a man ogling a hot woman on the street. "Oh, you're right; this is gonna be fun."
It wasn't my favorite fantasy about Sydney Rye, but riding behind her on a motorcycle was definitely up there on the visualization board of Robert Maxim. My thighs cupping her ass, my hands around her taut waist. The way she concentrated on the path ahead, following my directions as I navigated through the rugged landscape.
We didn't go fast, but it saved our strength for the journey ahead.
Every time I glanced back, I found Blue behind us, his white fur lit by the pale moon as he jogged to keep up.
Where did his loyalties lie? He was devoted to Sydney. But he also must be devoted to his puppies. And he let Sydney be controlled by the prophet. Why would Blue do that?
Which side was he on?
Sydney
I liked this bike. It handled well, and the strong rumble of the engine sent a thrill of power up my spine.
Lightning sizzled at the edge of my vision—easy to distinguish from reality. The pale light of the moon illuminated the path and Robert's body behind mine kept away the chill.
As we moved further away from the cabin, I grew calmer. I was on the right path. I needed to find Her. What I did once I got there would come to me.
The distant thwop of a helicopter rose over the growl of the engine.
Robert pointed to our left to a large boulder.
"Quickly, stop over there. They're here."
I pulled into the shadow of the boulder and Maxim climbed off. Blue raced up to us and Robert signaled for us all to crouch down, hiding in the boulder's dark shadow. The helicopter's bright beam focused over the cabin several miles away. It backtracked and landed in the same spot that Deacon had chosen hours earlier.
Robert's breath brushed my cheek as we huddled at the edge of the boulder, watching through Robert’s binoculars as armed men ran from the helicopter into the cabin.
"How did they find us?" I asked.
"They're the CIA, Sydney. They have their ways."
"You think one of your men gave up this location?"
"It's possible. But don't worry, I'm prepared."
"Of course you are." A smile tugged at my lips. I did appreciate how Robert Maxim was always prepared.
The men came back out and climbed into the helicopter. It took off and circled the cabin. The light landed on our tracks and they began to follow the motorcycle's trail. "Shit," Maxim said before turning to the bike. He opened up a side compartment and pulled out an Uzi. "I don't want to have to kill any of them."
"'Cause we're kind of on the same side?" I asked.
"They're just men following orders. Men I've probably worked with."
"But you're willing to kill them?" I asked.
"
They're not taking you anywhere," Robert said handing me a second Uzi.
"Maybe you should take the bike. Distract them," I said.
He shook his head. "No. They won't stop looking for you. They need to not find us."
The helicopter was getting closer. My grip on the gun tightened. Blue growled low in his throat.
The wind from the blades kicked up sand, spiraling it into the bright beam of their searchlight. What would a machine gun do against a helicopter? We'd have to wait for the men to descend. And then kill them.
They probably weren't trying to kill us, though. "Do you think they just want to talk?" I asked Robert.
"Yes. Talk," Robert said, his voice quiet.
"Then we shouldn't kill them. Let them take me for an interrogation."
"You'll never get out again, Sydney. If Martha doesn't outright kill you, she'll put you in a black ops prison for the rest of your days. You can either die here tonight, or die after they've tortured you for all the information they can get."
Well, when he put it that way...
A whistling sound pierced the night, and suddenly a missile of some kind impacted with the helicopter. It twisted out of the air, igniting into flame, a bloom of black smoke billowing into the dark sky as it tilted and plummeted toward the ground. The horrendous wrenching of metal crashing into rock blasted through the night.
I started running back down the path toward the crashed helicopter, Blue by my side. The glow of the fire lit up the night but the wreckage was hidden behind other boulders.
"What are you doing?" Robert called as he followed me.
"They might need our help," I yelled.
"Need our help! We were about to kill them."
"Yeah, but we didn't want to."
As we came around a bend the wreckage appeared; the helicopter lay crumpled on its side, the windshield shattered. A body slumped in the pilot seat. But the co-pilot crawled, dragging broken legs behind him, trying to get away from the burning fuselage.
I ran to him even as Robert yelled behind me. "It's going to blow; don't be an idiot!"
Flock of Wolves Page 10
