by Wendy Rosnau
She heard the door open and turned from the window to see Jacy with a tray.
“I brought you some soup. It’ll warm you up and help you sleep.”
“I’m sorry I’ve been so much trouble.”
“You know me,” he smiled, “we Hell’s Angels gravitate to trouble.”
She tried to smile; it was hard. She watched him set the tray on the nightstand, let her eyes drift over him, loving every inch of who and what he was. She left the window, and when his hands were free, she stepped into his arms and hugged him.
He lifted her chin and kissed her nose, then her lips. She savored the kiss, melted into it…into him. It was going to be so hard leaving him.
Suddenly, he asked, “Did Otto tell you where he kept the kill-file?”
“It was programmed into the cell phone he was carrying.”
“And he was carrying it on him when he went off the ledge?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll check it out.” He kissed her again. “Eat, then get some sleep. We might be flying to D.C. tomorrow.”
When he left the room, Pris listened at the door until she heard his voice in the kitchen talking to Pierce and Tate. Quietly she left the room and entered his office to make two phone calls. Back in the bedroom, she slipped on her coat, checked to make sure Otto’s phone was still in her pocket, then went out the window.
Pris had only been to Koko’s cabin twice, and both times it had been with Jacy. They had driven over in the pickup. This time she was on foot, following the frozen trail that skirted Two Medicine Lake.
Thirty minutes later Koko met her at the door.
“Are you sure this is how it has to be, sisttsi nan?”
“It’s time I take responsibility for what I’ve done. Jacy has been wonderful, but I can’t lean on him forever.”
“From what I have seen, my grandson enjoys your leaning. He will be upset with both of us when he finds you gone.”
“Tell him I forced you to give me Tate’s keys.”
“I will not. I will tell him the truth.”
“And that is?”
“That you need to face the past before you can make a future with him.”
Pris lowered her head. “I don’t think I’ll be coming back.”
“I will pray that you do. You are good medicine for my grandson.”
“He is good medicine for me, too.”
“Remember that healing takes time, sisttsi nan, and that the best place to heal is in the arms of the one who loves you.”
Jacy had never told her he loved her, though he had certainly proven that he cared about her. She wished he had spoken the words, but then she hadn’t said them either.
Pris took Tate’s keys from Koko’s bony hand, then a map.
“I have marked the route. Go to East Glacier, then Essex. Stay on number 2 past Coram and Hungry Horse. Take highway 40, then turn south on 93. I’ve marked the map and made all the arrangements you asked for.”
When Koko hugged her, Pris clung to her reed-thin body, then whispered, “Take care of him for me.” When she stepped back she was crying. “I will never forget you.”
“And I you, little bird.”
Five hours later Prisca stood in the airport lobby in Washington, D.C. and watched as a gray-haired man dressed in black walked toward her.
When she had called Adolf Merrick, she had told him she had the kill-file, and that she would turn it over, and herself, as soon as she was allowed to see her father.
“Prisca Reznik?”
“Da, I’m Prisca.”
“I’m Merrick. I have a car waiting.”
She nodded, and allowed him to guide her through the crowded airport. They moved quickly, and she was aware that two men had suddenly appeared to follow behind them.
“I’m not going to run,” she assured.
“I don’t believe you are,” Merrick said. “My men are here to protect you. You have the kill-file, right?”
“I do.”
“Then let’s get out of here. I have a plane waiting to take us to Clume. You’re sure you want to visit your father?”
“I wouldn’t call it a visit. I just want a word with him. It won’t take long.”
He motioned to his men to close in around them, and an hour later she was walking through a series of iron gates, then down a hollow-sounding corridor at Clume.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to see him alone,” Merrick said as they stopped outside an iron door.
“But that was the deal,” Pris said.
He studied her a minute, then nodded. “I’ll wait for you here.”
Merrick pressed a button, and Pris stepped into the cell to find her father standing at a narrow window. She hardly recognized him with his head shaved, but she knew it was him—she saw herself in his eyes when he turned around.
“Hello, Father.”
“Pris, what are you doing here?”
“I’ve come to tell you that I know the truth of who you are. That I know about all the lies and the tricks. About the other women in your life, and the abuse my mother endured living with you. I came to tell you that Otto is dead, and that he died loyal to you, though he wasn’t able to take me with him when he jumped to his death. He made it clear that you had made him promise to kill me if I ever faced capture. Such a caring father.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I plan to give the kill-file to Adolf Merrick. I took it from Otto after he was dead. I’m also turning myself in, confessing to everything I’ve done. I’m here to tell you that your daughter is about to betray you as you betrayed me.”
“I didn’t betray you, Pris. You’ve been lied to.”
“Da, I have. By you, Father. Only by you.”
His face contorted. “You’re just like your mother.”
“I hope so. I don’t want to be like you. I don’t want to be Holic Reznik’s daughter anymore. That’s all I came to say.” Pris turned to leave.
“If you do this I will hunt you down, daughter. You will never be free of me. Do you hear! Never!”
Pris pressed the button next to the door to signal Merrick that she was finished. When the door opened, she stepped out into the sterile hall as her father continued to shout threats at her, damning her to eternal hell.
Merrick flew her back to D.C. and escorted her to his office. There, Pris handed over Otto’s cell phone and told the Onyxx commander that he would find the kill-file there. She confessed to killing Alton Bromly and Thomas Walrich, then waited for him to lock her up.
“I understand now why Jacy was so determined to help you. You’re not only beautiful, you’re a brave young woman, Miss Reznik. I could have told Jacy this days ago, but I wanted to meet Holic Reznik’s daughter.
“So this is how it is, Miss Reznik. The two men you killed were double agents. Bromly had been on Euro-Quest’s hit list for over a year, and our own agent, Thomas Walrich, had been on ours for six months after stealing confidential material and selling it to the KGB. I’ve spoken to my superiors, and we all agree that you’ve done us a service. In the report I intend to file tomorrow it will state that you were working undercover for us. With the job complete, you’ll be moved to a safe location. I took the liberty of choosing that locale for you. You will be reunited with your mother. Your plane leaves within the hour.”
Chapter 17
Jacy walked into Merrick’s office early the next morning after spending the night pacing the Glacier International Airport in Kalispell—Montana was getting one helluva winter storm. He had his Stetson pulled low over his eyes and his sheepskin coat tucked under his arm.
He looked like a wild Indian on the warpath.
“Where is she?”
Merrick looked up from his paperwork. “You made good time considering the weather report. It’s supposed to head this way. Hell, I hope not. Sit down.”
“I’ll stand.”
“If you want to have this conversation, you’ll sit.”
J
acy tossed the black camera bag on Merrick’s desk before taking a seat. He had been livid when he’d learned that Koko had given Pris the keys to Tate’s pickup and had made flight reservations for her. He’d driven straight to Kalispell hoping to catch her, but she’d managed to fly out ahead of the storm. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been so lucky. He’d had to cool his heels overnight while ten inches of fresh snow paralyzed the airport.
“Last time I saw you, you were in a wheelchair. You’re looking fit. Ready to take on the entire agency, as a matter a fact.”
Jacy ignored the small talk. “She doesn’t deserve to be hung for this. She was only doing—”
“—what she was told. Yes, I know. The perfect pawn in another one of Holic’s games. Using his daughter was quite ingenious. I agree, however, to hang her would be a miscarriage of justice.”
Jacy hadn’t expected to hear that. He sat back, a little less hostile, but still determined to be heard. “What will it take to pardon her?”
“What are you offering?”
Jacy pointed to the bag. “For starters, Holic’s gun. And if you want me back at Onyxx, I’ll agree, but only if Pris walks away a free woman. Her record swept clean.”
“An interesting exchange. I rather like the setup we created at the cabin. A communication and research base away from headquarters has proven useful. You could work from your home as you did on the Austrian mission. You were invaluable to our success there.”
“Then we agree. I’ll come back, and she’ll be set free? A full pardon.”
“Agreed.”
That was too easy. Jacy asked, “What do you know that I don’t?”
“I know that you’re a pretty damn good judge of character. Prisca Reznik is an amazing young woman. Courageous, smart…beautiful. Want to tell me what happened in Montana?”
“I’ll send you a report. Pierce is on his way back with Otto Breit’s body. He went over the side of a cliff. It’ll be in the report. We couldn’t find the kill-file.”
“No need to worry about that any longer. I have it. Pris delivered it personally.”
Jacy was surprised to hear that. Why hadn’t she told him she had it?
“And where is she now?”
“I have your word you’ll return to Onyxx, work as a controller?”
“You have my word. Where is she?”
Merrick checked his watch, then stood. “Walk with me, I’m going to be late for a meeting, and there’s a few more things you need to know.”
As they left the office, Jacy keeping stride with his commander, Merrick said, “First off, she’s safe. I’ve reunited her with her mother.”
The Azores would have been the perfect place to heal if Pris could stop thinking about Jacy. It was a magical place with water as blue as the sky, and balmy ocean breezes that warmed her face the moment she stepped outside.
Pris strolled the beach, hand in hand with her mother. She wore white shorts and a yellow tank, and carried her sandals. The baked sand warmed her feet, and it was the first time in her life that she’d had a suntan.
Her mother seemed to thrive here. She looked younger, rested and most of all, happy. She wore free-flowing sun-dresses and fussed with her silky blond hair. She was also painting again, something Pris hadn’t seen her mother do in years.
They had spent hours talking about the past, both the good and the bad. They’d shared tears, but there had been happy moments, too—confessions of the soul exchanged. It had only served to bring them closer together. They had always been close, but over the past two months they had been inseparable.
Pris had been afraid to tell her mother about the two men she’d killed, but Mady had surprised her. There was no repulsion or disappointment in her blue eyes when she looked at her daughter. Only sympathy and understanding.
Your father is the master of deceit. Don’t blame yourself for succumbing to his experience and silver tongue. I was fooled for years.
Then she had divulged her own secrets—when she’d first learned the truth about Holic the Butcher Reznik, she hadn’t been strong enough to leave him.
If I had left him, none of this would have happened. Your great grandpa would still be alive, Holic would never have taught you how to shoot a gun, and you would not be suffering now about something you had no control over. I live with that guilt every day. I could have prevented so much if I hadn’t been such a coward.
The word coward had settled around Pris—it was what she had been weeks ago when she’d slipped out the bedroom window of Jacy’s cabin for the last time. She hadn’t wanted to say goodbye, and so she hadn’t.
It had been a cowardly act.
“You’re quiet again today,” Mady said.
“I’m just tired.”
“I think it’s more than that. All week you’ve been in a mood. Nadja has noticed it, too.” Mady pulled Pris to a stop. “Can I help?”
Pris had avoided talking about Jacy to her mother. It simply hurt too much. If he’d cared at all, he would at least have called. She didn’t want to be a pathetic nineteen-year-old. Why would a man like Jacy Madox be interested in someone who had ruined her life the way she had? Someone who was too much of a coward even to say goodbye?
Still, she knew she couldn’t stay on the island. She had to make a life for herself, and not in this safe box.
“I love being here with you, Mama. You know I do. But I feel lost since I’ve come here. I’m probably just being impatient, wanting to feel normal again, when that’s never going to happen. Each day I walk the beach hoping to feel better, but I just keep feeling worse. Lost.”
“Perhaps you need something to do.”
Exactly, Pris thought. Something to take her mind off the past…and Jacy Madox.
“I thought about taking up painting. You seem to enjoy it, and I used to, but…”
“I was thinking more along the lines of a job,” Mady said. “After dinner why don’t you talk to Bjorn? He’s made some connections here on the island.”
“You like him.”
“Yes, I like him, and I trust him, too.”
“Do you think he’ll ever marry Aunt Nadja?”
“Yes, I think he will. When the time is right.”
“Alzbet adores them both.”
“And they are very proud of her, as I am of you. In a few months there will be a new addition to the family. We’re all excited about that. Nadja thinks it’s going to be a boy. Don’t tell Bjorn.”
Throughout the day Pris considered what kind of job she would be good at. But she quickly realized that her skills were limited. Not exactly limited, more of a specialized nature. She knew guns, how to acquire a fake ID, and how to disappear off a rooftop within minutes. But those skills wouldn’t get her a job on the island.
She approached Bjorn after dinner, found him on the veranda leaning against the railing looking out over the water. The first time she had met Bjorn, he had intimidated her much like Jacy had when she’d first met him. He was bigger than she’d expected—this man she had once believed had killed her mother. But she knew now that he wasn’t capable of such an act. Like Jacy, Bjorn Odell was a good man.
He wore his blond hair as long as Jacy’s, but that was the only similarity. He was broader-shouldered, with blue eyes that matched his daughter’s. He was from Denmark and almost forty—that information had come from Aunt Nadja.
“Could I talk to you?”
He turned from the railing. “Sure. What do you need?”
“I need a job. Something to keep me busy. I have too much time to think.”
“And what, or should I ask, who are you thinking about?”
Pris hesitated, then came out with what she was thinking at that exact moment. “Have you talked to Jacy?”
“Ja, he’s called.”
“He has?”
“You sound surprised.”
Pris shrugged.
“Jacy and I have been through a lot together. He’s a good friend. Merrick’s got him on two assignments at the m
oment, and he’s keeping busy.”
“I thought he’d retired.”
Bjorn rested his lower back against the railing and stuck his thumbs in his jean pockets. “He did, but then he agreed to go back. He’s still working out of the cabin.” He smiled. “Go ahead and ask.”
“Ask what?”
“You want to know if he’s asked about you, right?”
Pris looked off toward the ocean. “Has he?”
“Every time he calls.”
Bjorn’s answer turned Pris’s head. “And what does he ask?”
“If you’re happy. How you’re doing.”
“And what do you tell him?”
“That he should come for a visit and see for himself. I got the feeling from him, and now you, that there’s some unfinished business between the two of you.”
Pris changed the subject. “About that job…”
“So what are you good at?”
“I thought about that after Mama and I talked this morning, and I’ve decided that the only thing I’m good at is shooting a gun and deviant behavior. I don’t think that will look too good on a job résumé.”
Bjorn chuckled. “I’ll make a few calls, and see what I can come up with.”
Jacy watched the Onyxx chopper land from the other side of the lake. It had been three months since he’d had any visitors, although he was on the phone to Merrick more than ever.
He followed the trail, Matwau bounding ahead of him. His knee felt better today. The weather was changing, spring was in the air.
When he reached the cabin, he saw no one on the deck waiting for him. If Merrick had come to talk to him about the last job he was working on, fine. But if he was there to dump another research mission on him, he was going to tell him to get someone else. He was spending his days and nights in his office.
He opened the door, ready to plead his case, but it wasn’t Merrick who had come in the chopper. It was Bjorn.
He grinned, then said, “Damn, it’s good to see you.”
“I heard you were walking, and I had to come see for myself.”
