Desert Dark

by Sonja Stone

  “Maybe it’s not him. Maybe he was kidnapped.”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s him. But how did the shooter make such a colossal mistake, hitting Alan instead of you?” Jack stands and reaches for Nadia’s hand to help her up. Distracts her with a question. “You were nowhere near the guys, right?”

  She takes his hand. “Not even close. Like, ten feet away.”

  He doesn’t want to let go. She gently frees herself and turns away.

  They find Alan and Libby resting near the mouth of the cave. “It’s time to go,” Jack says. “We’re a day overdue, so I assume someone’s looking for us, but I don’t know for a fact. We need to get Alan to a doctor. Everyone, keep your eyes open and stay alert.” He hesitates a moment before adding, “And make sure your weapons are readily available.”

  “What about Damon?” Libby asks.

  “We can’t wait any longer.”

  “We’re not leaving him,” she says.

  “This is not a debate. And I’m not sure he’s with us anymore.”

  “You think he’s dead?”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  “Well, what do you mean?” Libby presses for an answer.

  “You know what? I don’t even know. But we need to take care of Alan.” Jack turns away.

  “You think he’s the double, don’t you?”

  He looks at Nadia. “You told them?”

  “I didn’t say anything. Everyone already knew. Alan mentioned it months ago.”

  Yeah, if I overheard it, I’m sure others did too. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore, Libby. We have other priorities.” Jack nods toward Alan.

  Jack and Nadia take the first shift with Alan, supporting his weight as he limps along. They rotate every thirty minutes so that no one carries him more than an hour without a break. Their pace is agonizingly slow. Late in the afternoon, they find a steep incline leading out. They climb the hill on hands and knees.

  The sun dips behind the mountains before they reach the highway. “We need to split up. You’ll have better luck hitching a ride if it’s just you two,” Jack tells Libby. He kneels on the asphalt and rips open the side seam of his first aid kit. He flips through the plastic cards and hands her a small stack. Two Arizona State University student IDs, a health insurance card and a credit card.

  Libby reads the names. “Libby Brown and Alan Cross. You have a set of these for all four of us?”

  “Five of us,” Jack corrects her. “Hide your weapons. Memorize your birth dates. You’re freshmen at ASU. You were camping and Alan fell on some rocks. Don’t report in. It’s time to go dark. I’ll have Wolfe find you.”

  “Got it,” Libby says. She hoists Alan’s arm over her shoulder.

  The fear has not left Alan’s face. Jack smiles, trying to reassure him. “You’ll be fine. It’s smooth sailing from here.” He gently punches Alan’s shoulder. “Hey, I told you one day your life would depend on her.”

  Alan glances at Libby and gives Jack a half-smile. “I guess you were right.”

  “Almost always.”

  Libby and Alan head southeast as Jack and Nadia go west, straight toward the setting sun. The sky burns orange before them.

  “How far are we from school?” Nadia asks.

  She’s struggling to keep up, but Jack can’t afford to slow his pace. “I think it’s about seventeen-thirty. If we’re lucky, we’ll get back by twenty-three-hundred.”

  “Do you think it’s safe? I mean, do you think the shooter is on campus?”

  “I can’t imagine he would stick around. Missing your target is generally frowned upon in our line of work.”

  “Do you think they’ll try again?” She looks over her shoulder.

  “No, I think you’re okay. If they really wanted you dead, Damon could’ve slit your throat before he left.” Jack stops and grabs Nadia’s arm. “I’m so sorry I left you with him. If anything had happened to you . . .”

  “It’s okay. You didn’t know.”

  “But I should have. After he called me boy scout?” They continue walking. “Dean Wolfe will know how to proceed. I don’t know if he’ll heighten security or what, but he’ll do something. No worries, Nadia. It’ll be okay.” He has no idea if this is true, but she looks concerned and he wants to reassure her. “It’s almost over. We’ll explain it all to Wolfe and clear your name. You’ll be exonerated.”

  He envisions the scene: relief will wash over Dean Wolfe. Jack might get a formal commendation. Maybe a letter signed by the President—or a dinner at the White House, followed by an awards ceremony, like they do for Navy SEALs. Not televised, of course, but still. And Nadia—he can patch things up with her. They can go on an actual date. Who knows? They might have a future together yet.

  “Where do you think he went? Damon, I mean.”

  “I don’t know. We had no reason to suspect him. He could’ve stayed with us. And I don’t know why they took a shot at you. I guess if you’d died, they could claim you were the double. You wouldn’t be around to disprove it. But then again, the gunfire might’ve been a distraction.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe this was Damon’s extraction. You know, they wanted to pull their agent out of the field, but still provide reasonable doubt. Like maybe we’re supposed to think he was kidnapped, instead of believing he’s the double.”

  “But if it is Damon, why didn’t he kill me? It doesn’t make any sense.” They walk in silence for a few minutes. “Unless—maybe he couldn’t. Maybe he got too close to me.”

  Jack nods. I know I did.

  “Over Thanksgiving we talked about his brother.”

  Jack knows about Damon’s brother; he read the police report. As team leader he’s privy to any information involving past trauma.

  “I know he’s trained to deceive,” Nadia continues, “but I felt a real connection with him.”

  Jack glances at Nadia. Even better that he’s gone. It’ll be hard enough to win her back without competition from him.

  They walk along the deserted highway for an eternity. The land turns dark before the sky. The sliver of moon offers little light. They almost miss the dirt road leading to school.

  “Thank God,” Jack says, as they finally reach the gate.

  The night guard greets them. “We were worried about you. Where’s the rest of your team?”

  “Long story,” Jack says.

  “Dean Wolfe is here. He wants to see you immediately.”

  “Right now? It has to be at least twenty-three-hundred,” Jack protests.

  “It’s closer to two, and I’m just delivering the message.” The guard pulls the gate closed behind them. With a solid clunk, it locks in place.

  “I’ll come with you. We can talk to him together,” Nadia says.

  Jack had left his team alone while he searched for Noah, then again when he looked for the shooter. If he’d stayed with them, if he’d been by Nadia’s side, maybe none of this would’ve happened.

  “No, go ahead to your room. I’d rather see him alone. I’ll tell him about Damon. I can fill you in tomorrow.”

  “Thanks,” Nadia says, and rests her hand on his arm. Her warmth feels like fire against his chilled skin. He grabs her quickly and pulls her against him. Her body tenses for a second, then she exhales and returns his hug.

  “I’m crazy about you,” he says, not letting go. “The only reason I even . . . Nadia, I take my duty to my country very seriously. I know you aren’t from a military family, so maybe you don’t understand the personal sacrifices I’m prepared to make, but I hoped you were innocent from the first time I met you.”

  He releases her and she smiles. For a second he thinks, Everything is gonna be okay.

  “Thank you for telling me.” She looks down, then back into his eyes. “I think I need a little time.”

  Jack nods and brushes a lock of hair from her cheek. At least it’s not a no.

  “Good luck with the dean. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

&
nbsp; He waits as she crosses the lawn, then he goes inside.

  The Exit sign casts a red glow through the foyer. Just be honest with him. Jack walks the darkened hallway to the sitting room. This isn’t my fault. He knocks gently.

  Wolfe throws the door open and Jack jumps.

  “Finally. Come in. Sit down, son. What happened?” A deep crease is etched between Wolfe’s eyebrows.

  He must’ve been worried sick. Jack sinks into the chair. “We experienced enemy fire from an unknown assailant.”

  “Is everyone all right?” Dean Wolfe perches on the edge of his desk. He leans toward Jack, his concern evident.

  “One of the bullets grazed Alan’s leg. Libby took him to the hospital. We invoked Sunstroke Protocol.”

  “Alan Cohen was shot?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “But he’s not dead.”

  “No sir. It’s not bad. He should be fine.”

  Wolfe whistles softly. He looks away and rubs his face with both hands. “And the others?”

  “Nadia returned with me; she’s in her room. Sir, I’m sorry to tell you this, but Damon’s gone.”

  “Damon’s dead?” Dean Wolfe’s eyes widen.

  “No, not dead. Missing. Disappeared. We have no idea what happened to him. But I believe he’s the double. I’m confident it’s not Nadia.”

  “Really.”

  “Dean Wolfe, I’m so sorry. I know I’m responsible for the safety of my group but I couldn’t have prevented the attack. I may have made some bad choices, but they didn’t lead to the assault.”

  “Jack, your dedication and commitment are unquestioned. I’m certain you had good reason to leave your group.”

  “Yes sir, I did. I thought Noah’s team had prepared an ambush. Then later, Damon vanished while I searched for the gunman. Maybe I should’ve stayed with them, but I was concerned that the shooter would fire again at daybreak. I couldn’t give him six hours to find a better sniper’s nest.” Tears sting his eyes. He squints, hoping the Dean won’t notice.

  “Son, it’s okay.” Dean Wolfe stands to touch Jack’s shoulder. His brow pulls together as he offers reassuring words. “It’s a miracle you weren’t all killed with someone shooting down into the canyon. The bullets could’ve ricocheted off the rock—who knows what might have happened. I know you did what you could. I’m grateful you’re all right.”

  Jack exhales. “Thank you for understanding.” Exhausted, he leans back against the chair. He closes his eyes.

  “I need to get Nadia’s statement while it’s fresh in her mind. Why don’t you give her a call and have her come on in?”

  The words sound overly casual. Jack opens his eyes. The Dean’s face has changed slightly, from concern to . . . what is it? A guarded expression Jack can’t quite read. Wolfe hands him the cordless phone from his desk.

  Shots fired down into the canyon. Did I say where the shots were fired? Jack’s heartbeat quickens.

  “I’m certain you had good reason to leave your group, Jack”—that’s what Wolfe said. A warm sensation floods his body. I hadn’t told him I left my team. The warm turns to numbness as the blood rushes to his feet. Jack can’t feel his legs. How could he possibly know we weren’t together—unless he’s already been briefed?

  Jack’s hands shake as he dials the girls’ dorm. The phone rings five, six, seven times. He’s sure Dean Wolfe will hear the panic in his voice as he whispers, “There’s no answer.”

  “Give it a few more rings. Someone will pick up.”

  A moment later, Nadia’s breathless voice, “Hello?”

  “Nadia. It’s Jack.” His voice sounds strange and far away. His tongue feels thick. “I’m at the dean’s office. He needs you to come in. He wants to get your report. Tonight.”

  “Are you kidding me?” She makes a groaning noise in the back of her throat. “All right. I’ll be right there.”

  “I’m going to stay here,” Jack says.

  “Okay.”

  “And Nadia?”

  “What?”

  “Don’t forget your sweater.”

  She pauses for a beat. “What did you say?”

  “It’s cold out.”

  Nadia is silent for a moment. Finally she answers in a tiny voice, “Okay, Jack. Thank you.”

  Jack hands the phone to Dean Wolfe. He doesn’t think to hang up.

  Wolfe nestles the receiver onto its charger. He sighs, very softly, and shakes his head. He looks up at Jack, into his eyes, and whispers, “I just realized what I said.”

  “What’s that, sir?” Jack’s voice cracks.

  Wolfe is up now, pacing the floor in front of Jack. He stops and leans into Jack’s seat, holding the arms of the wingback chair. Pinning Jack in place. “I’m sorry, son. You would have made a fine agent.”

  Jack feels a sharp blow to the side of his head and then . . . darkness.

  69

  NADIA

  TUESDAY, DECEMBER 13

  2:13 AM

  Nadia lowers the phone onto its cradle. The hair on her arms stands on end.

  Jack used their code.

  What did he say to do if he used the code? Run, save yourself. That’s what he’d said.

  Her first instinct is to not trust him. But why would he lie?

  Maybe Jack is the double. He’s setting me up. He wants me to run so I look guilty.

  No. If he wanted to frame me, he would’ve killed me on the way back to school. He’d call it self-defense—tell everyone I attacked him.

  That’s what I would’ve done.

  Maybe someone else is in the dean’s office. Maybe Jack was ambushed. Maybe Wolfe is dead.

  Or maybe it’s Wolfe.

  What if it’s Wolfe?

  Oh my God. It’s Dean Wolfe. It’s been him from the start. Assigning Jack to spy on me; arguing with Sloan about recruiting me; insisting I didn’t need protection.

  Adrenaline floods her body—fight or flight. She doesn’t go back to her room. Her tranq gun is still in its harness, her knife clipped to her back. She can run.

  If she can get out the back gate.

  It’ll be locked. She can’t get past the guard at the front entrance. She can’t call the police. She doesn’t know the day’s code to dial off campus. And even if she did—what would she say? Who would believe her word over the dean’s? Especially after someone planted evidence in her room. Maybe more “evidence” has accrued.

  She’s out of her dorm, sprinting to the back wall before her next breath. She doesn’t feel the ground under her. She doesn’t feel her legs. She doesn’t feel the cold air or the branches of the bushes that scrape her arms.

  What about Jack? Am I just gonna leave him there?

  He brought it on himself. Lying to me. Spying on me.

  Nadia stops running before she reaches the gate. She moves into the shadow of the Navajo Building.

  Where am I going to go?

  She stands in the black night, listening to her pounding heart. It fills her head. And a rushing sound, like a hard wind.

  It’s her breath.

  Frantic thinking will get me killed. She forces herself to breathe slowly, in for five, out for ten.

  Can I really take off and leave Jack? Is that who I want to be?

  She can’t lie to herself. I know how I feel about him. And he risked everything for me.

  It only takes a second to decide. Nadia turns around and runs to the dojo.

  The shoji screens silently slide open and she bows out of habit as she enters the lobby. She races down the north hall, across the mats and up the south hallway to the covert-ops room. She strains to read the keypad in the darkened corridor.

  Oh, what is the word! She realizes she never got around to looking up the meaning of Sensei’s code. Abunai.

  Nadia enters the password and the metal door clicks open.

  From the first cabinet she takes a pencil, which conceals a tiny recording device. She pulls her ponytail into a bun and sticks the pencil through her hair.


  Across the room, she opens the weapons cabinet. She takes two CIA deer guns, which easily hide in her pockets. Almost as an afterthought, Nadia grabs the poisoned pen. She clips it inside her sleeve.

  Halfway down the hall, she decides to leave a message for Sensei, just in case. Her heart lurches as she finishes the thought. Just in case I don’t make it out of there.

  In the front room she uses the pen to scribble on the rice paper covering the wall: Sute Inu.

  She takes the long route to the dean’s office, following the path instead of cutting across the dark, open lawn. She climbs the steps two at a time and eases open the front door. Inside, she draws her tranq gun and moves down the hall.

  She reaches the sitting room. Her shallow breathing roars like an ocean in her head. Control your breath. Four in, hold for four, eight out. Combat breathing.

  She stays against the wall as she approaches Wolfe’s office. Her heart pounds so forcefully she’s sure it will explode.

  A sliver of light shines through the crack in his door. Nadia peeks inside. She sees his desk and one of the navy chairs, but the door obstructs the remaining view. She doesn’t see Jack or Dean Wolfe.

  She holds the gun in her right hand, finger on the trigger, muzzle pointed at the ceiling. With her left hand she pushes the door.

  Shadows cloak the corners of the room. The light from Dean Wolfe’s small desk lamp casts a tiny, motionless, yellow pool.

  She moves inside. Along the wall, well behind the second chair, a man-sized lump lays on the Dean’s Persian rug. Nadia approaches slowly, her weapon pointed at the dark pile. As she advances, the shape becomes clear: Jack’s body crumpled on the floor.

  Three steps into the room the door slams shut behind her.

  Nadia spins, her gun pointed toward the door. Dean Wolfe, also armed, looks back at her. She loses feeling in her legs.

  “Miss Riley,” Dean Wolfe says. “If you would be good enough to drop your weapon.”

  Noise thunders in her head. She doesn’t move. She can’t breathe.

  “Nadia, my gun is not equipped with tranquilizer darts. I strongly encourage you to drop your weapon,” the dean says.

  She drops the gun at her feet.

  “Kick it.”

  Her foot moves toward the gun but she misses.