Though mortally wounded, Balder was a trained agent. His training could very easily take Nick out of this world before he breathed his final breath. He came at Nick with the knife again and the two of them began a struggle for life and death in the pitch black room.
An expert might have picked out elements of both Jujitsu and Krav Maga during the exchange. Between the two of them, they exchanged sixteen successful blows and seven unsuccessful blows in the space of just eight seconds. Due to Balder's wounds, though, it was a rather one-sided contest. At the end, Balder had the grip of his own knife sticking out of the center of his chest.
As Balder slid to the floor, he gripped the knife handle in both hands, his breathing coming out in pants as he began to suffer from a tension pneumo-thorax. Nick leaned forward and grabbed the handle of the knife, his hands covering Balder's fingers. "Where is Kate? Is she here? Is she with you?" he demanded. Balder sneered. Nick asked another question. "What do you know about all this?"
Balder let out a laugh that ended in a cough, and blood flew from his mouth. "I know that I will never tell you ...," he whispered, then his breathing stopped.
Nick checked his pulse but knew the man had died. He used the expensive silk of Balder's shirt to clean his own knife, then re-sheathed it. He checked Balder's pockets quickly and found car keys and a standard issue field radio.
He turned to exit the building, leaving Balder's corpse along with his pistol and weaponry for security to find. He carefully closed Harrington's cache back up, leaving it looking as undiscovered as possible.
He departed just as he came in, not taking the time to cover his tracks, leaving his equipment behind. Likely, they would think it belonged to the dead man in Harrington's office. Besides, speed was the most important thing to him right now.
In the parking lot, he spotted Balder's rental almost immediately and pulled his car up to it. After transferring his remaining gear into Balder's vehicle, he got into his new car, then drove aimlessly around Portland.
Once he turned onto an empty and darkened street, he pounded the steering wheel with his fists and let out a wordless roar. Nick could not stop his brain from replaying the scene in Harrington's office over and over again. From past experience, he knew that this would persist until he could emotionally cope with what had taken place. To speed things up, he began clinically evaluating every word and every motion each time the little movie played out in his mind's eye.
Had there been any possible way that he could have lived through the encounter and still ended the altercation without killing the man? Their training never focused on disabling or wounding. They were only taught lethal blows. Intellectually, Nick realized that from the second Balder had aimed his pistol at Nick's head, one of them was going to end up dead. The intellectual knowledge did nothing to assuage his overwhelming remorse at having taken another life.
He felt tempted to report in, to call Charlie, but he knew that doing so would lead Kate directly to him, and then to Aria. He had to protect Aria. He struggled to collect his lost control once more and started breathing deep, slow breaths.
He roared again, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He slammed his scarred palms into the steering wheel over and over with tremendous force. It was the only pointless act of aggression he could allow. It was a natural human instinct to seek some kind of relief from the inevitable remorse he felt. Nick also knew from past experience that the kind of self-destructive behavior he instinctively wanted to engage in at that moment would only make things worse.
Suddenly, he remembered the only way he had ever been able to cope with the violence that seemed to follow him like a shadow all his life. "God, please help me," he prayed. "Help me, God."
He drove randomly for another hour with the standard issue radio set to receive. At three o'clock, when he was sure he wasn't being followed and wouldn't lead anyone to Aria, he turned back toward Mt. Hood.
Aria Suarez was a five foot tall, bookish, piano playing, female civilian with no history of violence; the sister of a cop and the daughter of a Sergeant Major. With that profile, NISA had sent three of their best agents to interrogate and kill her. By contrast, in about an hour NISA would start dealing with the Nick Williams problem. They would be coming after their rogue agent like the four horsemen of the apocalypse. As good as he knew he was, Nick knew in his heart that Hecate was better. There would be no hiding from Kate. It would take all of his skill just to stay one step ahead of her.
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Chapter 17
ARIA paced the front room, watching her reflection in the glass wall. Where in the world was he? It was already four-fifteen. All the things that could have gone wrong on this mission of his replayed over and over in her mind. He acted so confident, but nothing was easy about breaking into a nuclear weapons facility. Nothing.
Taking a deep breath, she looked at her watch again. Before he'd left, she had known that this would be a hard wait, but that hadn't prepared her for it. Since she'd gotten off her computer, the last three hours had dragged by. She promised herself she wouldn't start panicking again for another hour.
Deciding that she would be more comfortable if she changed clothes, she went to the bedroom. She still wore the same jeans and sweatshirt she had tossed on after her shower the day before. There had been so little time for her to pack that she wasn't even sure what she had with her, but at the bottom of the backpack she found a T-shirt and a pair of sweat pants.
After a very quick shower and a change of clothes she felt a little better. What she wanted was her piano. She could lose herself for hours in music if she could just sit at a piano.
As she turned to pace the room again, she heard the sound of a car's tires crunching on the gravel. She started to run to the door when she realized that it might not be Nick, so she went back to get the pistol and waited in the doorway of the kitchen. Suddenly, the glass wall of the living room made her feel very exposed, so she moved further back into the kitchen.
"Were you planning on shooting me for being late?" Nick asked from behind her.
Aria jumped and whirled around. When she saw Nick, she set the pistol down on the counter and launched herself into his arms. He didn't have any choice but to catch her, so he dropped the bags he held in his hands and put his arms around her. "Nick, I was so scared," she admitted, her lips brushing against the well of his neck as she spoke.
She felt his arms tense like he was about to push her away, but suddenly everything about the way he felt shifted. Instead of bracing her, his arms felt like they cradled her. He moved a hand to the back of her head and turned her face upward, crushing her mouth with his. Aria kissed him back with a decade's worth of love and grief.
As soon as their lips met, it was as if an explosion ripped through her. She'd never felt like this before. The two kisses they'd shared so many years before had been the kisses of children. Now her entire body felt like it was consumed with him. She didn't feel like she could get close enough. She felt him groan as he pulled her nearer. She wrapped her arms tighter around his neck and stood on her toes to get as close to him as possible while he buried his hands in her hair.
Before she knew what happened, he put his hands on her hips, pushed her backward, and ripped his mouth away. He didn't completely break contact, though. Instead, he rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. She could see his chest move as he drew in ragged breaths.
"We have to stop," he said hoarsely.
For some reason, Aria felt the sting of tears. "I know."
"I don't want to stop."
"I don't want you to."
He raised his head and cupped her face in his palms. A smile of pure joy flickered momentarily then vanished. Her heart skipped a beat at the intensity of emotion swirling in his ice blue eyes. He stared down at her for an eternity before finally speaking. "Get some rest," he said, releasing her and taking a step back. "I'm going to go outside."
Aria touched her bottom lip with shaking fingers. She could still
feel his mouth. "Nick?"
He picked up her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing one of the scars at her wrist. "Yes?"
"When I thought you'd died, I cannot explain what that did to me. Everyone was so concerned about me. I mourned you like we actually had a relationship. The pain of your death, the loss I felt, it ripped me apart."
She could see the pain and regret in his eyes. And something more. "I'm just asking you, please don't shut me out any more."
His hands holding her hand squeezed almost reflexively. "I'm afraid I don't know how to keep from doing that."
"Then I suppose you have to learn." She reached up and gently laid her free hand against his cheek. "Trust me. Start there. Trust your thoughts and feelings with me. Because I feel incredibly alone right now, and you're all I have."
He closed his eyes and leaned into her hand. "Aria —"
"But you're all I've ever really wanted, so it's okay. Just don't shut me out."
He opened his eyes and stepped back, breaking contact with her. "Go to bed. I'll be out here on the couch." The look in his eyes clearly said he would be wishing he weren't out here on the couch, but he didn't say it.
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NICK pulled on a pair of sweat pants and left the bathroom, ice cold water glistening on his scarred skin. The bedroom door stood partially open, and he was surprised that Aria was still awake. She sat on the bed with her laptop on her lap and reading glasses perched on her nose. She glanced at him as he paused in the doorway.
"Peter has a meeting arranged with Roj Singh in three days. On Friday."
"Where?"
"Panama City, Florida." She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. "He actually invited me to go with him and his daughter for spring break."
Nick nodded. "Did you find any other pertinent information on his home computer?"
"I'm deciphering."
She slipped her glasses back on and looked at the laptop screen. He clenched the clothes in his hand and left the room, shutting the door behind him. He needed to unwind but his body was fatigued so a good workout wouldn't do. Maybe he needed to feed his soul. He found his Bible in the pocket of the pants he'd worn that night. As he pulled out the Bible, he also pulled out the square of linen cloth that he always carried with him.
The cloth showed twelve years of war. He washed it as often as he dared, but he didn't want to wear out the linen. By now, it was soft, worn, almost transparent. It had blood stains on it, smears of black that he couldn't source, and a rip in one corner that he'd clumsily sewn back together. He ran it through his fingers and stared at the closed bedroom door.
Many years before, when Nick had asked his one-time mentor Staff Sergeant Ahearne how he had met his wife, he had asked Nick, "Ever see a girl and know — just know — that God made her especially for you?"
His chest tightened. How many times over the last ten years had he wished he could just leave his job behind him, find Aria Suarez, and beg her to forgive him for the deceit of his death. What would she have done if he'd just shown up at her door and she didn't need him like she needed him now?
He had to stop thinking about that. Distraction would mean death. Her death — or his, which would ultimately mean hers. He needed to focus on the current mission.
An hour later, Nick laced his hands behind his head and leaned back against the couch. His Bible lay open on his lap but he couldn't focus on the words right now. He knew he had to sleep, but he was still really hyped up from the activity of the night.
His mind wouldn't stop running. How deep did this go? Where would his investigation lead?
He needed to stop his thoughts. He needed to sleep so that he could be sharp and protect Aria. To try to still the ruminations, he started praying. Pushing his mind toward God rather than man.
He jumped, startled, when he felt the couch cushion move. He opened his eyes and watched Aria settle onto the couch next to him. Before he knew what she was doing, she pressed up against his bare side. He hesitated before bringing his arm down around her. Her hair tickled his chest, and he lowered his head just enough so that he could breathe in the smell of her shampoo.
"Where were you?" Aria asked.
"The throne room of God," he said quietly. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "Look Aria —" he started to say, but she cut him off.
"Where did you get that scar?" she asked him, running a thin finger down the jagged line at the top of his chest.
"Nigeria. Listen —"
"What about this one?" she asked him, tracing the one on his ribs. He felt his nerves jump under her touch.
"Libya. Aria —"
"And this one?" she asked, reaching to trace the deep mark on his hairline.
Nick closed his eyes at her touch, taking the hint that she clearly didn't want to talk about anything now. "Iraq."
She leaned forward and kissed the scar at his hairline. Nick closed his eyes and felt himself relax under the soothing brush of her lips. He felt his mind still and his exhausted body finally succumb to sleep.
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KATE Royce did not key her radio when Balder didn't check in. In eight years, Balder had never failed to check in so she assumed the radio was compromised.
She began her backtrack and arrived in the parking lot adjacent to NWT shortly before two in the morning. Balder's car wasn't there but another agency rental was.
Kate casually strolled up to the vehicle and circled it twice, checking for anything suspicious inside or outside the vehicle. After checking her surroundings, she got down on all fours and shined her flashlight beneath it, giving it a thorough check for explosives or traps.
Satisfied, she walked up to the car and shined her light inside. She tried the rear passenger door with her weak hand, her strong hand gripping her pistol, and did not feel a great deal of surprise when the door opened, unlocked.
Within a very short amount of time, she ascertained that this was Nighthawk's issued vehicle as she had suspected and that it had been stripped clean, just as she suspected. Dozens of possible scenarios played out in her imagination and she quickly narrowed them down to the three most likely.
First scenario, Nighthawk had somehow been turned, had avoided Balder, and was now fleeing with the principal. She judged that scenario as very unlikely.
Second scenario, Nighthawk had somehow been turned, had take Balder out, and was now fleeing with the principal. She judged that scenario as very, very unlikely.
Third scenario, Balder had finally fulfilled his ten year dream of terminating Nighthawk after a brief but effective interrogation and was now disposing of his body in several small pieces all over the Pacific northwest while simultaneously running the principal to ground. Kate judged that much more likely and the thought made her sigh.
Then Kate saw and heard the sirens racing toward the NWT facility — a lot of sirens — and decided she needed more information. More important than that, she urgently required the location of Balder's issued rental car.
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Chapter 18
"DON'T worry, Charlie. We'll get you out of here," Nick said. He wouldn't look at Charlie's face, wouldn't see the skin hanging down, or else the rage would consume him and he wouldn't be able to concentrate. The wound in his side hurt like mad, and the way he was having trouble breathing, he was sure that a lung had been punctured. He concentrated on that instead.
"Leave me here, kid. I'll just slow you down," Charlie panted. He was obviously going into hypovolemic shock. He'd lost an awful lot of blood.
"Charlie, I've seen the ending to the Dirty Dozen. I know what happens when I go on without you. And I'm nothing like Lee Marvin."
Charlie chuckled despite his near mortal wounds. "Always with the jokes, son."
"Two minutes until the drop, then we're out of here. You have to see your boy graduate from Basic Training, remember?"
"Yeah. My boy."
Nick stepped over the corpse of the Libyan guard and brought the laser designator to his sh
oulder, sighting on the chemical weapons plant, and depressed the trigger, painting the bullseye for the incoming laser guided missile. Once the target lit up, time always felt like it slowed to a crawl, and everything around Nick moved in slow motion.
He only had so much time before he wouldn't be able to move Charlie, and it seemed as if two minutes had expired. Finally, the laser began to beep, signaling that the fighter pilot thirty thousand feet up had locked onto the target and fired. Nick started counting down the time. Ten seconds before it struck he prepared himself for the force of the detonation.
Before the sound of the explosion had finished reverberating through the desert, Nick had Charlie on his shoulders as he ran through the chaos. He had five minutes to get to the pickup point, or else they would be left behind. As he topped the last rise, he saw the Blackhawk settling quietly in the sand. Twenty more yards and they were home free.
NICK knocked on the door of the bedroom but heard no response. He waited about ten seconds and knocked again. "Aria?"
Nothing. Worried, he threw open the door. On the bed he could see the lump of a figure buried under a mound of pillows and blankets. He could only see part of one arm.
"Aria?" he said, rushing to the bed. She didn't move. He reached through the mound and found a shoulder to shake. "Aria, you have to get up. We need to go." Nothing happened. Had Kate found them? He felt an empty sinking feeling in his gut. Had she suffocated Aria with all the covers?
He ripped the covers off her and checked her wrist for a pulse. Her pulse was strong. He shook her again. She opened her eyes and glared at him, then sat up and brushed her hair out of her eyes. Nick suddenly felt like he wanted to leap in the air like a prima ballerina. Where was all this coming from inside him? All he could think the second he knew she was okay was that she looked positively appealing like that.
An Aria for Nick (Christian Romantic Suspense) (Song of Suspense) Page 15
