Night Watch--A Novel

by Iris Johansen

  She’d spent countless hours imagining what that moment would be like; Dr. Waldridge would certainly be calm and reassuring as he removed the bandages and waxed eye patches, and her mother’s voice would be dripping with tension, terrified that a failure might crush her daughter’s spirit.

  If it was a success, there would be cheers and champagne; for failure, there would only be apologies and empty words of encouragement. Either way, Kendra would be forced to mask what she felt to give everyone around her what they needed from her.

  No thanks.

  She’d decided to make the story her own. Maybe she was being selfish, but she had been the one living in the dark all these years. She’d earned the right to do this alone on her own terms.

  Two blocks and a right turn later, she found herself right where she wanted to be.

  Piccadilly Circus.

  She’d visited the area several times during her stay in London and she enjoyed the gasps and squeals of delight it elicited from tourists and children seeing it for the first time. It was the junction of several streets in the heart of this large shopping and entertainment district, and from what she understood, it’s already-spectacular lighting was even more breathtaking with the seasonal decorations.

  Not a bad place to take her first steps into a new world.

  She stopped in the pedestrian plaza and felt the cool breeze on her face. She took a deep breath. Engine exhaust, perfume, and baked goods from a nearby market.

  It was noisy. Cars and buses roared by on the crisscrossing streets that surrounded her, shoppers talked and laughed, and a brass quartet played Christmas carols nearby.

  She stood motionless for a long moment. A moment which became one full minute, then five.

  What in the hell was she waiting for?

  It was time to rip off the Band-Aid. So to speak.

  Are you ready for me, world?

  Because I’m ready for you.

  She pulled off her large sunglasses and reached toward the bandages glued between her forehead and upper cheekbones. She tugged, the bandages barely moved. Hmm. The hospital staff probably had a solution that would dissolve the adhesive. This wasn’t going to be easy.

  She peeled back the bandages, feeling her skin stretch and pull. She felt no pain, just an unbearable excitement that sent her heart leaping into her throat.

  Was she really doing this?

  The bandages fluttered to the sidewalk. She peeled off the thick pads that covered her eye sockets.

  She held her breath.

  There was … something.

  Her eyes were still closed, but there was a sensation she’d never experienced.

  Was this … light?

  She opened her eyes.

  She gasped.

  In that instant, she stood in another world.

  No words. No words to describe what she was suddenly experiencing. There was simply no frame of reference, nothing she could possibly compare this with.

  The sounds were the same, but they were now paired with these … things.

  Lights. Colors. People.

  Oh, the people …

  Did noses really look like that? And those ears …

  So this is how everyone saw each other. How arbitrary it was that some would be considered more attractive than any others … At this moment, they all looked beautiful to her.

  One of them was staring at her. A woman with shoulder-length hair whose face was twisted in what Kendra realized was a smile. Could this person see the amazement, the wonder, the awe?

  “Kendra, baby,” the woman whispered.

  Kendra gasped. It must be … For the first time in her life, she was looking at the face she’d wanted to see more than any other.

  “Mom?”

  The woman’s head bobbed up and down. “You can see?”

  “Yes.”

  “Everything?”

  “I … think so.”

  Her mother laughed even as tears rolled down her cheeks. She took Kendra in her arms and hugged her.

  Kendra squeezed her tight. “You followed me?”

  “I had a feeling. I know my little girl.” She laughed shakily. “And you know me. I had to keep my distance. I knew you’d realize it was me if I didn’t.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom.”

  “No, don’t be. As I said, I know how you think. I—I just needed to be here.”

  “I’m glad you are.” Kendra spun around and faced the multicolored lights. She wanted to reach out, embrace them all. She was brimming with wild exhilaration. She felt as if she were part of those brilliant lights, that they were shining out of her. “You have to tell me what those colors are. It’s incredible. I just want to soak in every detail.”

  “There’s so much more to see … The Grand Canyon, the Mediterranean Sea at sunrise, the canals of Venice…”

  “I want to see it all. Every single bit of it. Tonight!”

  Her mother laughed. “Soon. First there’s someone else you need to see. Someone who deserves to be here with you.”

  Kendra nodded. “I know.”

  “Should you call him, or should I?”

  “I’ll do it.” Kendra pulled her phone from her pocket. She started to tap out the number, but realized that the illuminated buttons were disorienting her. She closed her eyes to finish entering the digits.

  He answered on the first ring. “Hello.”

  Kendra could barely contain the joy in her voice. “Dr. Waldridge … It’s me, Kendra. Sorry to bother you, but I really think you should get yourself here to Piccadilly Circus…”

  Old Town San Diego

  Present Day

  Lynch held his phone between him and Kendra on a quiet side street on the bustling tourist and entertainment area of Old Town. He had Rye on speaker, and they had just given him the info on Dr. Porter Shaw and his involvement in the Night Watch Project.

  “Night Watch,” Rye said. “Interesting.”

  “How so?” Lynch asked.

  “I’ve started asking around about Waldridge, and the Night Watch Project has been mentioned a few times. But when I try to dig in about it, people tend to clam up fast.”

  “Do they not know or do they just not want to talk?” Kendra asked.

  “Probably both, depending on the person with whom I’m talking. Don’t worry. I already have an idea how to find out what’s going on there. I promise I won’t leave London until I find out.”

  “Keep us posted,” Lynch said. “We’ll check in when we hear more.”

  He cut the connection and looked at Kendra. “I have faith in him. If anyone can figure out what’s going on there, it’s Rye.”

  “I believe you.”

  Lynch gestured for her to follow him around the corner, where they stood in front of a bar emblazoned with the words CAFÉ COYOTE high on a neon sign.

  Kendra shook her head. “I can’t believe you took me to another bar. Did you suddenly acquire a taste for bad karaoke?”

  “You don’t know bad karaoke. You haven’t heard me try to sing yet.”

  “Ooh, now I’m intrigued. What’s your pleasure? ‘New York, New York’? Or maybe ‘The Gambler’?”

  “That would take a lot more tequila shots than this place could possibly stock.”

  “Oh, I’d gladly make a run to the liquor wholesaler to make it happen.”

  “I bet you would. It’ll have to wait for another night. This isn’t a karaoke bar.” Lynch gestured for Kendra to precede him through the open door.

  She entered to find herself in a rowdy bar largely populated by college-age patrons. In addition to a long bar, there was a dozen or so high-top cocktail tables, four dartboards, and a small stage elevated only a few inches above the rest of the floor. The stage held a guitar and keyboard duo of male vocalists who were covering Hall & Oates’ “You Make My Dreams Come True.”

  “See?” Lynch said. “No karaoke.”

  “Well, this is a close cousin. But these guys are pretty good.” She turned to Lynch. “So what le
ad are we following here?”

  “No lead. No lead at all.”

  She frowned. “Then why the hell are we here?”

  “To allow you to decompress for a bit.”

  She turned toward the door. “I don’t have time for this.”

  He grabbed her arm. “Make time. You need it.” He met her eyes. “I’ve watched you since this began, and you’re at the point where you’re pulled taut and ready to break. Waldridge means too much to you. You’re losing perspective.” He gave a half shrug. “Added to the fact that it bothers the hell out of me to see you like this.”

  “I’m fine. I’m not losing—” She stopped. She didn’t like to admit it, but she couldn’t lie about being on edge. At the FBI office today, she’d had trouble keeping it together. She asked sarcastically, “You think drinks at an Old Town bar are what I need to decompress?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Then explain to me why we’re here.”

  “For some music therapy.”

  She pointed to the stage. “And you think listening to these guys will give me what I need?”

  “Actually, no. The guitarist is a friend of mine, but I seriously doubt his talents have the rehabilitative power to soothe your nerves and restore a sense of calm and focus to your psyche.”

  “You have a lot of friends in this town, you know that?”

  “I can’t help it if I’m a popular guy. It’s the cross I bear.”

  “So who is this music-therapy wizard you have in mind?”

  “You.”

  Her eyes widened as she stepped closer to him. “Are you crazy? You want me to practice music therapy on myself?”

  “You do it all the time. I’ve seen it.”

  “You’ve seen nothing of the sort.”

  “Of course I have. Every time I’ve seen you with one of your clients. You come away invigorated, but at the same time a sense of calm comes over you. And that razor-sharp focus of yours is never more acute than it is after one of your sessions. Do you deny it?”

  Kendra thought for a moment. She couldn’t deny it, but she hadn’t realized that Lynch had studied that aspect of her life enough to know that basic and very intimate force that drove her. But she should have realized it; anyone as controlling as Lynch would probe and watch until he did know everything. “Okay, music has always been a big part of my life. When I couldn’t see, it was one way I could connect with anyone else. It was one experience I could share completely.” She suddenly felt uncomfortable. “But you make it sound like I’m doing my sessions for myself instead of my clients.”

  “Of course not. I know you’re doing it for them,” he said quietly. “It’s just a fortunate side benefit that it also helps you.”

  “And just how am I supposed to treat myself here?”

  To Kendra’s surprise, Lynch suddenly hopped onto the small stage. He whispered to the guitarist, who nodded. Lynch stepped back toward Kendra.

  “What the hell did you just do?” she said with ice in her voice.

  Lynch smiled, but didn’t answer.

  The musicians finished their song, and the guitarist spoke to the crowd. “Okay, we’re going to have a smoke break, but while we’re gone, we’ll leave you in some very capable hands. Be back in a few.”

  He stepped off the stage, handed Kendra his acoustic guitar, and clasped hands with Lynch. She watched in amazement as the musicians disappeared into a back hallway.

  She held up the guitar. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

  “What you always do. Play it. Connect.”

  “You play it.”

  “This is how you used to earn your living, wasn’t it? Playing clubs during your so-called wild days?”

  “I wouldn’t call that a living. Scraping by is more like it,”

  “Okay, then scrape on up to that stage. Your public is waiting.”

  Kendra glanced around the crowded bar, where several patrons were indeed looking at her. It still would have been a simple matter to place the guitar on its stand next to the stage microphone and walk away.

  She turned back. Lynch was wearing a borderline-cheesy, self-satisfied smile. The bastard was practically daring her to do it.

  Fine.

  She gripped the guitar and stepped behind the microphone. She leaned toward the mike to make an introduction, but she stopped.

  Not necessary. The music would speak for itself.

  She leaned back and strummed the guitar, feeling the pull of the strings beneath her fingers. Nice.

  She closed her eyes, as she often did while playing any musical instrument she’d mastered during her years in the dark. She played a few chords, still not knowing what song she’d play. She had an instinct for what chord progressions would work in this bar, on this night, and she knew the right song would soon follow.

  That song was James Taylor’s “Fire and Rain.”

  She wasn’t sure she’d actually sing it, but again, it felt right. She let herself feel the words and music, allowing them to become extensions of her as her voice warmed to the soulful lyrics.

  When she finished, she opened her eyes. Most of the bar’s patrons were now staring at her, having put their beers, darts, and conversations on hold.

  They erupted into cheers and wild applause. She merely nodded her appreciation, put her guitar down, and left the stage. The crowd was still applauding as Lynch mouthed a single word.

  “Wow.”

  She walked toward him and stopped just inches away.

  A long moment of silence.

  She kissed him squarely on the mouth.

  Again, not something she’d planned. It just felt right.

  He smiled. “What was that for?”

  “For knowing what I need. Before I even knew it myself.”

  He nodded. “My pleasure. You want to get out of here?”

  “Yes.”

  They moved through the bar and stepped out onto the street, which had become busier in the short time they were inside.

  “Are you okay?” Lynch asked. “You seem a little…”

  “Buzzed?” Kendra finished for him.

  “I was going to say woozy.”

  “Definitely buzzed. And I mean in the best possible way. It felt wonderful.” And all the jagged edges of anxiety that had been lacerating her were magically smoothed away. She knew it was temporary, but she’d take it. “I’ve never had any desire to perform in front of people again. And it may be years before I do it again. But right now, it’s just what I needed to—”

  She froze.

  “What is it?” Lynch asked.

  “Keep walking. Act normal.”

  His brows rose. “That’s exactly what I was doing before you stopped dead in your tracks.”

  They continued down the busy sidewalk.

  “She’s here,” Kendra said in a low voice.

  “Who?”

  “Motorcycle woman. I think she followed us into the bar.”

  “Did you see her?”

  “No. But I’m willing to bet she’s following us right now. Don’t look back.”

  “That’s probably the most insulting thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  “Sorry.”

  “What makes you think she’s here?”

  Kendra nodded toward the strip of fine dirt running between the sidewalk and the street. “Those damn Fusion Lei riding boots again. I just spotted a relatively undisturbed footprint heading in the direction of the bar.”

  “Other people wear those boots, right?”

  “Of course. But they’re rare enough that I’m willing to bet that it’s more than just a coincidence. She’s here.”

  Lynch thought for a moment. “Okay. I want you to walk four blocks down, just past the Western wear store. Then take a left and keep walking.”

  “And what exactly will you be doing?”

  “I’ll be nearby. Right now I’ll duck into this restaurant and out through the back. Make a big show of saying good-bye to me.”

  �
�How do I do that?”

  He kissed her. “That’s how. See you around the corner.”

  She was so surprised by the gesture that she could only summon a limp wave as he ducked into the restaurant and moved toward the back.

  She continued down the street. Motorcycle woman, whoever the hell she was, had saved her from those two thugs in the building. Why not turn around and confront her? Difficult, she decided, because the woman could be tailing her from blocks behind. She’d been studying reflections in the shop windows and knew the no one in the immediate vicinity was following her.

  Kendra turned, walked past the Western wear store and turned left as instructed. She stole a glance back as she made the turn. There were several people on the sidewalk some distance away, among them at least two females with roughly the same body type as Motorcycle woman.

  What in the hell did she want?

  If, indeed, one of those women was her. She hadn’t been able to catch a look at the shoes.

  Keep walking. Stay alert. Don’t look back.

  Where the hell was Lynch? If he was somewhere on this street, he was damned good. She sure couldn’t spot him.

  She walked an entire block, then another. Did Lynch expect her to just keep walking until she reached the—

  A sharp yell behind her!

  Kendra whirled around. Lynch was there, and he had a woman in a hold.

  She had short dark hair in a pixie cut and wore jeans and a long black coat that looked somewhat like a duster. And Fusion Lei riding boots.

  She used one of those boots to kick backward and strike Lynch’s knee. He winced in pain, and she seized the opportunity to drop out of his grip. She spun around and pummeled him with half a dozen lightning blows to his kidneys. He was obviously in agony, but he snapped his hands over her wrists and twisted her around with her own left arm pulled taut over her throat.

  The woman was still struggling as Kendra ran toward them. “Enough,” Lynch said, gritting his teeth. “Keep it up, and I promise you’ll be unconscious in seconds.”

  She muttered something Kendra couldn’t understand, but was probably obscene.

  Kendra studied the woman. “It’s definitely her. Same body type, exact same boots with a light blue scuff mark on the right heel.”