Night Watch--A Novel

by Iris Johansen

  Pfffft.

  He heard the sound an instant before he felt an icy chill. He looked down.

  A long silver blade was protruding from his chest. It was coated with blood. His blood.

  Only then did he hear the breathing of his attacker behind him.

  Darkness.

  * * *

  KENDRA DRUMMED HER FINGERS as she sat in the passenger seat of Lynch’s car. They’d been on the way to the FBI offices when Lynch’s phone rang with an insistent tone she’d only heard twice before. Each time, Lynch had stepped away and took the call someplace where she couldn’t hear him. Classified stuff, she’d been told. Not that she really cared.

  This time Lynch abruptly pulled his car over on Fifth Street and spent the first minutes pacing back and forth on the sidewalk next to her with the phone pressed to his ear. Then he leaned against the brick wall of the restaurant where he’d parked. His posture slumped, and he was frozen in place for a long moment even after he ended the call.

  This wasn’t high-impact Lynch. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

  She climbed out of the car and walked over to him. “What’s going on?”

  His face was tense, his lips tight. “I have to go to England.”

  “Another one of your assignments?”

  “No, it’s just…” He looked away. “Rye is dead.”

  Her breath left her. “What?”

  “His body was found in a landfill a hundred kilometers outside of London. It so happened there were cadaver dogs on-site for another investigation. It’s the only reason they found him. They think he was bagged and tossed into a Dumpster.”

  The words didn’t sound real to her as they tumbled from Lynch’s mouth. Neither the words nor the terrible vision of that amusing, lively man just tossed away like so much garbage. Lynch was obviously having trouble believing them, too.

  Kendra placed her hand on his. “I’m so sorry. I really liked him.”

  “And Rye liked you.”

  “I feel guilty,” she said unsteadily.

  “For what?”

  “For pulling him into this. He didn’t know what we were getting him into.”

  “We didn’t know much ourselves.” Lynch took a deep breath. “Rye never did anything he didn’t want to do. I feel bad ten different ways right now, but guilt doesn’t enter into it. Rye loved living on the edge. He almost died on three separate occasions in the years since I met him. It’s who he was.”

  “I feel bad that he was doing it for us.”

  Lynch nodded. “I guess I am feeling some guilt there. If I hadn’t called him, he’d be in his cottage reading and drinking wine right now.”

  “What was he doing the last time you spoke to him?”

  “He was tracking a lead from the auto investigation system of our Big Bear corpse, Dr. Porter Shaw. Shaw’s supposed workplace didn’t exist, but Rye found an old factory where he’d been going.”

  “That was the last time you talked to him?”

  “Yes. He texted me the address. It may be nothing, but as far as I know, it’s the last place he went. I have to go there.”

  She nodded. “But can’t the local police handle it?”

  “They are handling it. I was just talking to a mutual friend of mine and Rye’s. He’s with the National Crime Agency. I told him what I knew, but I still need to go there.”

  “Of course.”

  Regret flashed across his face. “I have to do this, Kendra.”

  “I told you, I know you do. I’m just sorry I can’t go with you. As long as Waldridge is missing, there’s no way I can leave here.”

  “I wouldn’t ask you to.” He looked away from her. “Damn. A world without Rye Malone is a sadder place. I’m already missing him.”

  “Did he have family?”

  “An ex-wife who was happily married to him when he was an intelligence-agency desk jockey. When he was in the field, she just couldn’t take it.”

  “I guess she never wanted to receive a call like the one you just got.”

  “I guess she didn’t.” His lips twisted. “Maybe she’s a very smart woman.”

  CHAPTER

  12

  LYNCH DROVE KENDRA BACK to her condo, where he threw together his belongings and packed with astonishing efficiency.

  Kendra smiled. “Something tells me you’ve spent a lot of time living out of that suitcase.”

  “Too much time.” He zipped his Eagle Creek duffel and rested it on the floor. “When a piece of luggage feels more like home than my actual house, I know I’ve been doing something seriously wrong.”

  “It cost Rye his marriage, and it sounds like it cost you Ashley.”

  He stepped closer to her. “I’m not thinking about Ashley.”

  She felt herself tense. “Out of sight, out of mind?”

  “No. That was a relationship that had run its course.” His face was only inches from hers. “But this … This has been nice. You and me, here, under the same roof. I had the same feeling when you were at my place. There’s something very … right about it.”

  He was too close. She was having trouble breathing. “I seem to remember a few moments when it felt anything but right.”

  He smiled. “There are a few awkward moments in any new relationship. I told you that we’d get through it, and we did.”

  “Relationship? I think we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves.”

  “No. You just need to catch up.”

  Kendra was about to toss off a flip rejoinder, but she saw Lynch was no longer smiling. “You’re still shell-shocked from losing your friend. I’m not going to take anything you say seriously.”

  “I’m more serious than I’ve ever been. If Rye’s death tells me anything, it’s that it’s foolish to waste time.”

  “Is that we’ve been doing? I thought that we were assessing which way we wanted to go and what was wise. At least, that’s what you—”

  He’d pulled her close and was kissing her. “Assessed, hell. I’m done with that game.” He kissed her again. A hot rush surged through her, and once again she felt overwhelmed by everything that was Adam Lynch. The whiff of his scent, the feel of his facial stubble, and the heat of his deep, almost animalistic breathing.

  He finally pulled away. “I’m not waiting anymore. When I get back, I want to see what this can be. What we can be. Together.”

  “Really?” She was having trouble putting words together when all she wanted to do was go back into his arms, then the nearest bed. “Don’t I get a say?”

  “Not at the moment. You’re still too edgy about committing to anything, and you’ll just annoy the hell out of me. I’m too aware right now that at any time a ten-ton truck could come barreling around a corner and smash one or both of us into the hereafter. Not to mention those sons of bitches who killed Rye and are still out there.”

  “I told you that you were shell-shocked.”

  “Yeah, maybe. Besides, it’s not necessary that you have your say.” He picked up his suitcase. “You’re not the only one who knows how to read people.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yes. Of course, you make it easy for me. You have a terrible poker face, at least as far as this subject goes.” His eyes were suddenly glinting with mischief. “You keep pushing me away, but I realize how irresistible I am.”

  That damn smile was irresistible.

  And he was going away, and might face fatal ten-ton trucks and those men who’d killed Rye without her.

  She found herself smiling back at him. “And so very modest, Lynch.”

  “False modesty is no virtue. Like I said, I’m tired of wasting time.” He walked to the door, opened it, and turned around. “I hate doing this, you know. I’ll call you from England. I’m going to find out what happened, but you need to be careful. If they got Rye, they can get any one of us.”

  She nodded soberly. “I know. You be careful, too.”

  “Hey, I guarantee nothing’s going to happen to me.” He said grimly, �
�I’m mad as hell, and I have an agenda. Both of those factors can move mountains.”

  He turned and left the condo.

  * * *

  KENDRA WAS JUST ABOUT to leave the condo again when the front door buzzed. She punched her wall-mounted intercom unit’s talk button and spoke into it. “Let me guess, Lynch. You forgot your toothbrush. Or was it your semiautomatic?”

  Jessie Mercado’s voice blared from the speaker. “Neither. But it sounds like he left behind some good memories.”

  Shit.

  “Jessie?”

  “Yes. I can come back if you want to spend more time lolling in the rosy glow of your night with Adam Lynch.”

  “No lolling. No rosy glow. Come on up.”

  “If you insist.”

  Kendra pushed the button that unlocked her building’s front door. Jessie entered her condo a minute later. “Sorry to drop by unannounced. I was nearby and decided to take a chance.” She slipped out of her leather jacket. “Where’s Lynch?”

  “On his way to England.”

  Jessie’s eyes widened in surprise. “Was there a break in the case?”

  “Not exactly. We told you we had someone working the case from there…”

  “Yeah?”

  “He was murdered. They found his body early this morning.”

  Jessie flinched. “God, I’m sorry.”

  “It hit Lynch pretty hard. They were old friends.”

  “That begs the question … Is Lynch going there to kick ass, or is he going to pick up the trail and actually work the case?”

  “Hopefully both. His friend was investigating an abandoned factory that had something to do with Dr. Shaw.”

  “And with Night Watch?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to find out.”

  “Well, I’ve been investigating your pants-pissing kidnapper.”

  “My pants-pissing attempted kidnapper, thanks to you.”

  “Yeah, that guy. I decided to see what I could find out about him.”

  “Between last night and this morning?”

  “Sure. Hospitals don’t close.”

  Kendra’s eyes widened. “What did you do?”

  “There’s one nice thing about large health conglomerates … The minute Wallace Powers’s social security number went into the system, his entire medical history could be accessed from any computer in their network. Even if that computer happens to be in a fairly quiet, twenty-four-hour urgent-care location.”

  “Don’t you need a key card and a password?”

  “A pretty smile and a couple hundred bucks will go a long way in a place like that at three in the morning.”

  “Did it tell you anything other than that Powers once sprained his ankle playing beach volleyball?”

  Jessie smiled. “He did do that. How did you know?”

  “A framed photograph in his house, signed by his teammates. It was between the front door and the bathroom.”

  “I missed that. In my experience, these medical histories are more useful to get a sense of the employment history, emergency contacts, addresses where he lived, that kind of stuff.”

  “Well?”

  Jessie pulled a sheaf of papers from her inside jacket pocket. “I got all that. But there was something else here.”

  “I hate to think of how many laws you’d just broken.”

  “Then don’t think about it. Just think of him trying to drug you and carry you off in a barrel.”

  “Since you put it that way…”

  Jessie looked down at the papers. “Our friend was diagnosed with stage-four liver cancer. He was given eight weeks to live.”

  “Eight weeks … That’s horrible.”

  “The diagnosis was made over three years ago.”

  “What?” Kendra took the pages and looked at them. “What kind of treatment did he have?”

  “No treatment. At least none that appears in his records. The next time anyone in the network saw him, seven months later, he was completely cured.”

  Kendra looked up from the pages. “Are you sure?”

  “I had a doctor friend look these over, and he says his levels went from death’s door to perfectly healthy in a matter of months.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “It isn’t. As least not according to my doctor friend.” Jessie took the printouts back. “You have no idea what kind of work your Dr. Waldridge was doing?”

  “No. I told you, he was incredibly coy about it. It wasn’t something that made him happy, though. I didn’t get the impression he’d come up with some all-powerful miracle disease cure.”

  “He performed a miracle on you.”

  “And he and the Night Watch Project made sure the whole world knew about it. They didn’t keep their miracle under wraps for years on end.” She frowned, and said slowly, “No, there’s something else going on here.”

  “It was a long time ago, wasn’t it? Maybe you don’t remember it the way it was. That happens sometimes.”

  “I haven’t forgotten one thing connected to Charles Waldridge. And I wouldn’t be confused or mistaken just because a little time has passed.”

  “Aren’t you being defensive? A little time?”

  Jessie was right to call her on it, she thought. It had been more than a little time since that day in Monterrey when everything had changed for her …

  Monterey, California

  Eight Years Earlier

  Kendra paced alone in a back corridor of the Monterey Conference Center listening to the din of the crowd seated in the adjacent five-hundred-seat theater. She was a featured speaker at the TED Conference, an annual event which gathered interesting people to share their experiences and insights with attendees and eventually worldwide audiences on the Web.

  She glanced at the exit sign, which glowed red in the dim hallway.

  Tempting.

  Damned tempting.

  “Those doors open to the parking lot,” a voice said from the darkness. “You can make a clean break for it.”

  She turned to face Dr. Waldridge as he stepped toward her. She smiled with an effort. “I could make the Santa Cruz boardwalk by sunset.”

  He smiled. “What’s in Santa Cruz?”

  She sighed wistfully. “The ocean. A basket of fried shrimp. A cold bottle of beer.”

  “I can see your conundrum. But what about all the disappointed people you’ll leave behind?”

  “They can come with me. There’s enough beer and fried shrimp for all. My treat.”

  “I don’t really think that will work,” he said gently.

  “No? Oh, well.” She brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. “It was a solution. I’m having trouble forcing myself to go out there today.”

  “Nervous?”

  “Are you joking? I’ve done a hundred of these in the last year. Academic conferences, press events, fund-raisers…”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “Maybe I’m burned-out.” She rubbed the tense muscles at the back of her neck. “I’ve been thinking that I can’t do it anymore.”

  “Of course you can.”

  She shook her head. “Burned-out is probably the wrong term. It’s hard to describe. Ever since I got my sight, I feel like … I’m living in someone else’s body. Every minute of every day is a different experience. So much has changed for me.”

  His lips turned up at the corners. “I don’t believe you’re telling me that you’d rather still be blind.”

  “Of course not.” She turned to him and her voice was suddenly passionate. “Do you know how grateful I am to you? Every day I wake up, and I tell myself how lucky I am that Charles Waldridge agreed to see me that day in London and decided to perform a miracle.”

  He chuckled. “Hardly a miracle. Pure science and medicine.”

  “I know all the explanations, but when it’s all said and done, it was a miracle for me.”

  “But you’ve suddenly become uncomfortable with your miracle?” His gaze was narrowed on her
face. “Or maybe not so suddenly. I can’t say that I haven’t seen a few signs emerging in the past few weeks.”

  She’d known he’d probably been aware of the way she was feeling. He was the most brilliant person she’d ever met, and he’d grown to know her so well. She was only surprised that he’d waited for her to confront him with it instead of stepping in and dealing with the problem as he had all the rest of the obstacles they’d overcome together. “It’s not that I’m ungrateful, but it’s been an adjustment. And when I’m still trying to figure out what my new life is going to be like, I’m having to jump through hoops. The same speeches, the same questions, the travel, the hotels … I’m looking for normal, and I’m wondering if I’ll ever find it.”

  “You will.”

  “When?”

  “Give it time.” He was suddenly beside her, gazing into her eyes. “Don’t you realize that you may never be what people call ‘normal?’ I knew the moment I met you that even if the operation didn’t work, you’d always be extraordinary. You had a disability, but you were still working to become all that you possibly could be.” He lifted her chin, and said quietly, “And that result would have been far from ordinary. Miracles don’t always happen in an operating room, Kendra.”

  She couldn’t look away from him. He seemed to be trying to tell her something that had nothing to do with conferences and cold beer and everything to do with …

  What?

  But he’d stepped back and was turning away. “So protect that miracle. Let yourself have time to get priorities in order before you jump into the fray. Life out there can be scary, even terrifying.”

  “Terrifying?” It was a strange thing for him to say. “I’m not afraid of terrifying. It’s only the unknown. It’s what people who aren’t protected by people like my mom and you face every day. It’s called life.” She turned toward the doorway to the auditorium, where a stage manager appeared. He spoke into his wireless headset and flashed his index finger, indicating one minute until showtime.

  One minute, and she’d once more be drawn into that smothering darkness. One minute, and she’d feel the chains reaching out for her again.