by Pam Jenoff
My stomach drops. They mean to kill us after all, throw our bodies over the edge. Nicole turns to me, not understanding. Then, as she takes in my expression, her eyes grow wide with terror.
The Turk pulls a pistol from his jacket. Nicole screams, turning away as if to shield Noah from a bullet. The man pauses, seeming to have second thoughts about killing two unarmed women and a child. Seizing upon his hesitation, I knock one of the bottles of wine from his arm, expecting it to break. But it clatters to the ledge, rolls forward.
The Turk’s eyes dart to the bottle and as he lunges for it, I dive for his gun. I stumble and fall to my knees on the ledge, reaching the bottle of wine before he can. I grasp the neck of the bottle with one hand, fighting to keep it out of his hands. As he struggles for it, I am pushed closer to the edge.
Desperately, I claw at the rocks, digging my feet into the earth and trying without success to gain some traction, something to keep me from falling. Then my hand involuntarily releases the bottle, which flies over the edge. The Turk dives for it again, this time overreaching.
“Ahhh!” The Turk flails, waving his arms wildly, wobbling. He grabs me by the shirt and before I can react, pulls me with him as he falls backward over the ledge.
I am too surprised to scream. I guess this is it, a calm voice in my head says as we careen through the darkness. I did what I set out to do, found Jared, got the answers I was seeking. There is a seeming hesitation in time, then a sense of weightlessness as we fall, and I wonder how far down it is to the bottom, how long until we reach it.
Suddenly I crash into something hard, pain radiating through my body. I’ve landed on another ledge that juts out from the cave wall several feet below in the gorge, unseen from above. I grunt as the Turk lands on top of me a second later, his full weight crushing me against the ground. His hesitation is gone now, hands instantly at my throat, squeezing my windpipe.
I reach down blindly for his gun. Sensing my motion, he releases my throat and his fingers close over mine as I struggle to turn the gun toward him. A shot rings out between us.
He’s hit, I realize as he rolls off of me. Taking a deep breath, I kick hard against his chest, sending him over the edge. His scream fades as he falls into the gorge below. Seconds later there is a loud thump, then silence.
“Jordan!” Nicole cries out. Above, the sandy-haired man pushes Nicole close to the edge as she struggles unsuccessfully to hold her footing while clutching tightly to Noah. I look around. I am more than ten feet below the precipice, with nothing to grab on to to get back up. And I cannot get a clear shot at the man without risking hitting Nicole or Noah.
“Hold on,” I call. She does not respond, but stands paralyzed as she clutches the child, eyes closed, mouth moving in silent prayer.
From the doorway, there is a sudden roar and another figure appears. Ari! At the sight of him, my heart flips. How did he find us?
In one fell swoop, Ari pushes Nicole and Noah to safety, then leaps at the sandy-haired man, knocking him down. But the man, much larger and heavier than Ari, rolls on top of him, pinning him to the ground.
The two men grapple for what seems like an eternity. With a mighty shove, Ari pushes the man over the edge. I jump back, hugging the wall as he flies past, joining his accomplice in the abyss.
“Jordan?” Ari calls from above, his panicked voice echoing through the cavern.
“Down here.”
He straightens and his eyes widen, relief flooding his face. He leaps over the edge, bending his knees to soften his landing beside me. “Are you okay?”
“F-fine,” I manage, trying to catch my breath. “But how did you . . . ”
“Nicole found me in Zante before I reached the address, told me that the information was bad.” His words come out in a breathless rush. “We figured out a way that she could give me the wine and I could get her the money she needed to pay off her debts. But when I went to arrange the fund transfer, Nicole disappeared. At first I thought maybe she’d gotten cold feet about our arrangement, but when I got ahold of Jared, he told me about Noah being taken and I figured that Santini’s men grabbed Nicole, too. So I—”
“Ari!” Nicole cries out from above. Ivan stands in the doorway to the wine chamber, kneeling over something. Dynamite, I realize, as he lights the charge. Blowing up the cave must have been their contingency plan. Ivan stands and picks up the last bottle of wine where the Turk dropped it. Then he runs past Nicole and out of the cave.
“Nicole, go!” I cry. With a last desperate look back, she disappears through the entrance with the child.
“Here,” Ari says. He lifts me up over his head, pushing me back up to the top ledge. I scramble to my feet and turn to help him, but he waves me off, climbing with stunning agility, gaining traction by finding notches and crevices in the sheer rock face that I hadn’t known existed.
I start toward the entrance of the cave. I look back, expecting to see Ari following close behind. Instead, he has run to the far end of the ledge and is reaching for the still smoldering dynamite. “Ari, no . . . ”
“Get out!” he orders as he picks up the dynamite and starts to fling it into the gorge. “Now!”
Desperately I run toward the entrance of the cave. As I reach the archway to the main chamber, there is a deafening bang. I am thrown forward to the ground and everything goes black.
chapter TWENTY
I LIE IN THE darkness for several seconds, unable to move. Am I dead?
Pain shoots through my shoulder then, reviving me. Sensing daylight, I open my eyes. I am lying on the soggy ground in the entrance chamber to the cave. Nicole is standing over me, still holding Noah, trying to pull me to my feet. Bright sky fills the space behind her.
She tugs at my arm. “Get up!” she says, as though talking to a lazy child. But her voice is urgent.
I inhale, filling my lungs with dirt and smoke. The last thing I remember is Ari flinging the dynamite over the gorge. Where is he? I leap to my feet, start back into the cave.
“Jordan, no.” Nicole holds me back. There is a rumbling sound from farther inside, low and deep. “The walls have collapsed. It isn’t safe.”
“But I have to . . . ” I break from her grasp and run deeper into the cave.
“Come back,” Nicole calls from the entrance. “He’s gone. The whole thing could go at any second. It’s suicide to go back in there.”
Her protestations fade behind me as I reach the tunnel that leads to the ledge, struggling to see through the darkness and dust. “Ari?” I call blindly. There is no response. “Ari?” I repeat, shouting now, my words echoing off the walls. From the far side of the gorge comes a scratching sound. “Is that you?”
An indiscernible mumble is the only response. “He’s alive!” I call over my shoulder.
“Then wait, let me get help,” Nicole replies, her voice faint in the distance. But there’s no time—the rest of the cave could collapse at any second.
I feel along the wall, extending one foot before me. Then I stop. The ledge that once connected the entrance and wine chamber has collapsed with the explosion. Already narrow, it is now half its original size, no more than a few inches of rock hovering precariously over the vast chasm below.
Taking a deep breath, I step gingerly out on the ledge, inching forward. Dirt crumbles beneath my feet. I grasp at the wall beside me for support, moving as quickly as the precarious walkway will allow. As I near the far end, I see a figure lying beneath a pile of rubble. “Ari!” I kneel beside him.
He stares at me, dazed. “Jordan?”
“Are you all right?”
“Fine. But my leg . . . ” He gestures to where his limb is caught between two rocks.
I start toward them. “Is it broken?”
“No, but wait.” He points to the larger boulder, which is wedged against what remains of the doorway to the wine chamber. “That rock is supporting the frame. If you move it, you’ll destabilize the whole cavern.”
“We have to get you out,” I insist.
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He shakes his head. “You could be killed.” He grasps my wrist. “I’m not letting you do this.”
“Well, I’m not leaving without you.”
We glare at each other, another battle of wills. “Look,” I say, trying again, “we have to hurry. If we sit here the whole cave is going to collapse and then we’ll both die.”
“Then go now.”
“Not a chance. I’m going to move the larger boulder on the count of three and then we run for it.” I see him glance over my shoulder, hesitating at the narrow ledge over the gorge. Fear of heights, I remember; his one weakness. “You can do this. We can do this together.”
A flicker crosses Ari’s face, as though he wants to believe me. But another rumbling sound comes from farther inside the cave, closer now, more ominous. “All right,” he concedes.
“Ready? On three: one . . . two . . . three . . . ” Leaning all my weight into the rock, I press against it. There is no movement.
Ari reaches up. “It’s okay. You’ve done everything you can.”
“No . . . ” I say, unwilling to give up. Tears sting my eyes. I’m not going to lose him, not like this.
Desperately, I take a deep breath and try again, bracing my legs, using every bit of strength I have left to push against the boulder. There is a creaking sound as it moves and the ceiling above us begins to give.
“Now!” He wrenches his leg free and I yank him to his feet. But then he freezes, staring downward at the crumbling ledge. “Don’t look, just follow me,” I lock my hand in his, pulling him forward.
As we reach the far side of the gorge, the rumble behind us explodes into a deafening roar. I can see light ahead, smell the salt air.
“Run!” Ari cries and we leap forward through the entrance, landing facedown in the shallow surf. A second later, the entire cave seems to shudder and a wall of rock comes tumbling down, sealing off the opening behind us.
We lie motionless, side by side in the sand, breathing hard as the water laps against our skin. I study his face: there are cuts on his forehead, a fresh bruise at his cheekbone. Our eyes meet.
“I’m so sorry I left,” I reply. “When I found out that you were Mosaad, I thought . . . ”
“You thought that I betrayed you, despite everything we promised.”
“Yes,” I admit, touching his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his ripped T-shirt. “But I found Nicole and she told me the whole story, including the fact that you and she are cousins.”
A wary expression crosses his face. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. But I thought if you knew . . . ”
“It’s all right,” I say, meaning it. Though I hate the fact that he kept the truth from me, I would have done the same if the situation was reversed; I won’t be hypocritical by holding it against him now.
He draws me close, strong arms circling around me, and then his lips are on mine. I inhale his familiar scent beneath the layers of blood and sweat.
Nicole, I remember a moment later, pulling away. She stands respectfully a few feet away, facing so that Noah cannot see us.
I turn back to Ari. “What were you thinking, picking up the dynamite like that?” I demand. “You’re insane—and you could have been killed.”
“Thanks,” he replies, as if I’d given him a compliment. “Nice hair, by the way.” I raise my hand, recalling my bleached-blond locks.
He reaches for me again, but before our lips meet, Nicole is over us. “Aaron, thank God,” she says, kneeling and setting Noah down.
Ari sits up and reaches for the child, running his hands over Noah’s torso and limbs, checking for injuries with a swift, smooth touch. Satisfied, he turns to Nicole. “What happened?”
“They grabbed me outside the bank.”
“I figured as much,” he says grimly. “We never should have split up.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered. They had Noah. And they didn’t want money, just the wine,” she adds.
A strange look crosses Ari’s face. “Did you give it to them?”
“I had to,” she replies. His face falls with disappointment. “It’s the strangest thing, though,” she adds. “They didn’t take the wine, they broke the bottles. Why would they do that?”
“And what does your government want with the wine anyway?” I interject.
He turns to me. “Remember what Signora Conti told us about the wine, about how it was part of a shipment that was supposed to be delivered to the Germans in exchange for the lives of the Jewish workers?”
“Of course. But a lesser wine was substituted for it at the last minute and the Jews were killed.”
“Right, but what she didn’t say was that François Mercier, Cerfberre’s longtime friend, was also a secret Nazi sympathizer and war profiteer.”
“The mayor?”
Ari nods. “He’s the one who brokered the deal to get the Jews out. He’s also the one who substituted the inferior wine and stole the Cerfberre 43. Later in the war he was more overt in his collaboration, permitting his town to serve as a staging point for the transport of Jews to the concentration camps. He was responsible for sending thousands of Jews to their deaths.
“For over sixty years, no one has been able to link him directly to any acts, and he’s lived a comfortable life on his government pension, not to mention the wealth he pillaged from the Jews. But recently the Israeli and French governments have been working together to build a case against him, planning to try him as a war criminal. The Cerfberre Bordeaux, which Mercier claimed never existed, is a key piece of evidence in that trial.”
Nicole gasps. “I had no idea. I thought it was just a valuable shipment of wine and I was eager to be done with it as soon as possible. I didn’t know about the war crimes prosecution.”
“No one did,” Ari reassures her. “We’ve kept the indictment top secret so that Mercier wouldn’t grow wise and flee to a country that doesn’t have extradition.”
“So the men who took Noah and wanted the wine destroyed . . . ”
“Must be somehow connected to Mercier,” I finish for her.
“Mercier must have learned that the Cerfberre Bordeaux had been found,” Ari adds. “If only I had gotten here sooner, they wouldn’t have been able to destroy all of the bottles and—”
“No,” I interrupt. “That is, they didn’t destroy all of the bottles.” His jaw drops. “Almost all of them were lost,” I add, gesturing toward the collapsed entrance to the cave. “But I think that the guy who got away still has one.”
Ari leaps to his feet, grimacing at the pain in his leg, then turns to Nicole. “Wait here with Noah.” She clutches the child more tightly in response. “You stay here, too,” he says to me.
I jump up. “No way.”
He looks at me as if he wants to argue before realizing it will just delay him further. “Come on.” He starts down the beach.
“Where are we going?” I ask, following.
“I saw the yacht those men came in on when I was on my way here—it’s just past that next bluff.”
“Should we go to your boat?”
“There’s no time. It’s back by Jared and Nicole’s cottage.” I think of Jared. He doesn’t know yet that his son has been rescued.
Ari breaks into a run and I follow, neither of us speaking further. He is still surprisingly swift despite his limp and my shoulder throbs as I struggle to keep up. We round a curve reaching another inlet, one that I had not seen coming over land with Jared. There is a small harbor here, seemingly deserted.
At the far end of the lone dock sits a yacht, larger than the one on which Ari and I sailed from Trieste. Ella, the name on the side of the boat reads in blue cursive. Something familiar in me stirs.
Ari sprints forward toward the yacht. “Wait here,” he calls over his shoulder as he boards. Ignoring him, I press forward. As I reach the edge of the dock, Ari climbs the ladder to the rear deck, pauses for a second to survey the boat and, seeing no one, hoists one foot onboard.
&
nbsp; But before he can finish climbing over, Ivan appears behind him.
“Watch out!” I call in warning. Ari begins to pivot, but his usual speed is slowed, I can tell, by the injury to his leg. Before he can react, Ivan grabs him and throws him to the deck. I speed up, racing toward the boat.
A shot rings out. “Ari!” I cry, fearing he has been hit. But the bullet was intended for me, not him, I recognize as a second shot whizzes past my head, closer this time.
I duck, scanning the deck of the yacht. Ivan is still grappling with Ari—the shot must have been fired by someone else on board. I hesitate, wishing I had my gun—any gun. Continuing forward, I crouch near to the ground. Then I break into a low run, climb onto the rear of the boat.
Ari is on his back now, wrestling Ivan for control of his gun. The last bottle of wine lies on the deck a few feet away from them. I start forward, uncertain how to help. Ari waves me back, then reaches for his waist, his hand closing around air. He must have lost his gun in the explosion. He glances down in my direction, but I shake my head helplessly, as if to say, “Mine is gone, too.” His eyes widen as he realizes that both of us are unarmed.
Seeming to find new strength, Ari rolls on top of Ivan, pinning him and grabbing him by the neck and twisting. There is a sickening crunch and Ivan goes limp. An expression of horror and self-loathing crosses Ari’s face and in that moment I know all that I will ever need about the work he did for the Israeli government, the things they taught him.
Ari jumps to his feet and picks up the bottle of wine from the spot where it lies on the deck beside the lifeless Ivan. “Let’s go.”
Before I can respond, there is a noise behind me. I start to turn and suddenly another man comes out of the cabin. He leaps on me like a cat and I freeze, feeling the blade of a knife at my neck, cold and steely. “The wine,” he hisses at Ari.
Ari looks toward Ivan’s gun where it lies on the ground beside him, realizing he should have picked it up before retrieving the wine. Then he turns back, faltering, ready to give up the bottle if he thinks it will save me.
“Don’t do it,” I say, remembering how Ivan and his men were planning to kill us anyway, even after they had the wine.
