She dropped the phone before she realized it was slipping from her grasp. As it clattered to the desk, she knew that whoever was on the other end would be instantly alerted. The first wave of panic flooded through her body. She stumbled into the bathroom and pulled the bolt across. Two barriers now stood between her and whoever was out there. she told herself, which might give her enough time to escape through the window over the bathtub. Throwing open the shower curtain, she very nearly climbed into the arms of a bearish man wearing Bermuda shorts and a Budweiser T-shirt. “Hey,” he said, lurching toward her.
But she had already leaped back, screaming at last, until she slammed against the locked door that knocked her into a sudden state of hyperalertness. It was as if some primal self were saying-This is life or death! Fortunately the huge man with the beard had caught his foot on the edge of the tub as he made his move, falling flat on his face on the floor behind her. It gave her the instant she needed to fumble the lock open, but a split second later the man grabbed her ankle. Now thinking with absolute clarity, she brought her free foot backward as hard as she could and caught him flush in the face. She heard something crack and hoped she had broken his nose, her panic lessening with the realization that she could hurt him. As she spun in the open doorway she saw him rise up, clutching his face with both hands. Blood was pouring through his fingers and his eyes were blind with tears, but he was holding a fillet knife and stumbling toward her. Everything was coming at her with a kind of slow-motion intensity, like a series of slalom poles on a downhill run. Finally making it to the hall door, she flung it open and ran, only to collide immediately with someone standing in the outside hallway. This man was in his mid-thirties, with bone-white skin, clear blue eyes and closecropped hair. She caught a glimpse of his creased trousers and fitted shirt, realizing that he had to be military. She saw him bring a leg up, reach under the cuff and pull out a knife. He was a Seal, she knew, and the knife was standard-issue. How she knew this she had no idea, but she did and there it was. She staggered back into the room and the man with the bloody nose stood up behind her. “Jesus H. Christ,” the Seal said, “why don’t you just make a mess of it, pal?” “She’s tough,” the other man said, grabbing Elizabeth by the hair. He had his hand on her blouse and murder was in his eyes when the Seal spun him around and put the knife to his chin. “Right now your nose is bloody. You want to dispense with it altogether?” “Hey, fuck you, Russell,” said the bearded man, his eyes twisted down toward the knife touching his left carotid artery’. He softened his voice a little. “You said this gig would be easy.” “I also said,” the Seal responded calmly, “that you were not personally authorized to harm her.” The bearish man blinked slowly. as though trying to locate some plug that had just been pulled in his cortex. The effort at reconnection apparently failed: despite the Seal’s warning he hauled Elizabeth against his crotch and tried to force his tongue into her mouth. The Seal reversed his knife and drove down with the pointed steel end of its handle, punching through the bearded man’s skull and penetrating a full inch into his brain. Jerking upright with an incredulous look on his face, the man pitched backward over a coffee table and crashed to the floor. In seizure, he thrashed, his arms twitching while a thin thread of foam trailed from the coiner of his mouth. Then he was still. Elizabeth, suspended in that icy space between terror and nausea, stared at a spot on the wall. “Amateur Night,” said the man named Russell. He turned to Elizabeth. “Come here,” he ordered, taking a length of rope from his back pocket. He’s going to hang me, Elizabeth thought wildly. Grabbing her wrist, he twisted it behind her. He was incredibly strong, slamming her into a wall until she could not move. She felt her head pulled back by the hair, she saw the knife arc toward her throat, and then it stopped. “If I wanted to,” he said very quietly, “I could have already killed you. But I follow orders.” As he began to twist the rope around her wrists, someone crashed into him from behind. The attack was so sudden and fierce Elizabeth thought for an erratic moment that it might be some sort of wild animal. In horror, she watched as the Seal flew away from her, another man on his back as the two crashed over the couch and onto the floor. In the next second she saw that it was Peter, lurching up, seeing the Seal diving for the knife. Peter fell on him, grabbing his wrist the split second before Russell caught him with an elbow under the chin. Peter reeled back and Russell leapt on him, planting a knee on his chest and stabbing down. Peter jerked his head sideways as the blade sliced just past his ear, burying itself in the floor. Russell swore and struggled to pull the knife free. Before he could, Elizabeth grabbed the chair she had tried to wedge under the doorknob and smashed it down on the back of Russell’s head. The Seal fell forward hard, the blade of his knife disappearing beneath his body. Whether it had entered him or not was impossible to tell, but one thing was clear: he wasn’t moving. They ran for their lives.
They raced through the lobby and into the parking lot. There they braked hard as they found themselves in the gun sights of the Navy Seal’s only remaining backup. It was the tow truck driver, still clearly civilian, but this time he was armed. “Where’s Russell?” he asked. His voice was unsteady and he looked off-balance upon seeing another man with the girl. “Upstairs,” said Peter, trying to keep his voice from shaking. Then, winging it, he said, “It’s been called off. She’s not the one.” Putting a guiding hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder, he walked her past the kid. He had seen enough of her to realize that her eyes looked remarkably calm now, although her ability to speak seemed to have deserted her for the moment. The tow truck driver followed at an uncertain distance. He was ten years younger than the guy upstairs, eighteen at most, and certainly no Seal. A bootleg operation, Peter thought. Henderson, clearly the mastermind of this mission, probably didn’t want it on the books. What would his bosses say if they knew he had ordered the ending of a life they had paid so much to extend? “Hey!” the kid abruptly yelled. Peter and Elizabeth turned to find him pointing his pistol directly at their heads. “Let’s go up and see if that’s what that Army guy says,” he stuttered. “He won’t be especially happy about that,” Peter said ominously. “He’s taking a nap. Sueno. He’s not at all pleased when someone wakes him while he’s sleeping. He gets really very angry. The kid flicked a glance up at the windows and licked his lips. “No, you’d better come upstairs with me. Peter feigned an attitude of disgust. Beside him, Elizabeth let out an exaggerated sigh. “Look,” she said, “you want to keep your tow truck or not? If you don’t get out of my way, I swear to God I’ll have the police on you faster than a duck on a June bug.” The guy looked at her, unsure of himself. Peter moved forward, putting the gun to his own forehead and making sure the driver could see how unafraid he was. “If you’re going to do something, do it here. But first be aware that you’ll be killing Dr. Peter Jance of the Advanced Weapons Testing Program, U.S Army, Department of Defense, and you will be hunted down and killed like a dog for doing that.” The boy finally blinked.
Peter stole another look at Elizabeth, realizing what he had just said. Jesus. Maybe she’d assume it was a cover identity. Maybe he’d never have to tell her because this kid will shoot them both. But the kid didn’t. Lowering his gun, he cleared his throat. “You stay here. I’m gonna go talk to him.” He turned and went into the hotel.
Peter gave a sign and he and Elizabeth tore off. “Down here!” he hissed, running toward the Humvee hidden behind a screen of sweet olive. “How did you know?” she asked as they ran. “When you didn’t show up at the bay, I figured I’d better check up on you. “Thank God. You saved my life. You were wonderful.” “I didn’t really have time to think,” he said truthfully then stopped, seeing the weird look on her face. And then he heard the safety clicking off. He turned to see the kid with the pistol: this time he was shaking and furious. “You’re crazy, man, killing that guy. Now you’re fucking dead cause you saw my face and I ain’t gonna-” His voice was drowned out by a horn blaring in the road behind him. Swinging around, the kid dropped the gun in panic and dove out of the way as a Range Rover with government plates, lights flashing, bore down on him. It missed him by inches and jammed to a stop near Peter and Elizabeth. The back door swung open. Peter caught a glimpse of wild blond hair and knew it was Alex. He reached for the woman’s hand but she was backing away. She had seen Alex, too, and all she knew was that he was the mysterious guy who had stalked her when she had first arrived on the island. “It’s all right,” Peter assured her. “Come on.” Still she didn’t move, which gave the kid with the gun time enough to retrieve his weapon and wheel on them. Peter and Elizabeth dove into the Range Rover as it lurched off down the road. Peter thought he heard the 9mm go off, but Alex had his foot to the floor and nothing much could be heard over the engine’s roar and the wind whistling through the windows. “Welcome to. Vieques. Finally,” Alex said to Elizabeth. Then he shot Peter a funny look in the rearview mirror. “You all right, Doc?” “I’m fine,” said Peter. But as the adrenaline began to ebb, he felt a twinge of pain at the top of his ear and dabbed at it. There was a di-vision now in the top rim of his ear and it hurt like hell. But the blood was already scabbing over and Peter counted himself lucky to be alive. Almost put an end to this wonderful body. he thought, and realized how proprietary he felt now toward it. “That guy in your room, did you get his name?” Alex asked. Peter was watching Elizabeth. She was looking out the back window. Turning, he saw a line of three vehicles speeding toward them, headlights blazing from around a curve. “Get down!” Alex yelled, and they hit the floor. As the government cars streaked past without slowing, the three in the Land Rover nearly stopped breathing. Alex gave a cheerful wave to their taillights, and then gave the all-clear signal. Peter and the woman sat back up. “Russell,” she answered, shaking now. “Henderson’s guy.” Peter said in recognition. “Where are we headed?” “Airport,” said Alex, swinging around to meet Elizabeth’s gaze. He seemed about to say something, then Peter ordered him to watch the road and Alex changed his mind. Eyes now forward, he accelerated. Peter glanced at Alex, who gave him a weirdly humorous look, eyebrows raised and face twisted into an odd smile. “Something, huh?”