Chapter Nineteen
Rose was excited to start the third week of camp outdoors. She watched the Humvee pull away from the waterfront park’s playground. There, the rest of the students were already warming up, their voices light and playful.
Rose noticed Maji restlessly scanning the sky, as if expecting another drone to appear. “Nice of Dev to drive us,” she said.
Four cars had left the estate, Frank driving the town car as usual, but without them in it. When the three decoys had split off, Maji’s full attention went to scanning the road for signs of trouble.
Here in the park, Maji seemed equally consumed by the task, though Rose caught her bare nod of acknowledgment.
“What are you looking for?” Rose asked. Their classmates were nearly the only people in the park at eight fifteen on a Monday morning. The smart runners and dog walkers had already made their circuits, before the humidity began to creep up along with the temperature and the sun’s intensity.
“Anything out of place,” Maji replied, finally giving Rose her attention. Well, most of it. She touched her watch and said to someone at the other end of the comm, “Going radio silent. Rios out.”
After confirming that the tracking pendant Rose wore was functioning properly, Maji let her join the others while she stood a little apart, maintaining watch. Rose saw Hannah take in Maji’s positioning and give her a tiny nod before issuing a final safety reminder to the students.
Indoors, the parkour drills felt safe, like a gymnastics class. All the rolls they had practiced so far made landings second nature, and if they missed their grip on an underbar or got sloppy on a pop vault, kong, or balance walk on top of the prop wall, the mat provided a forgiving cushion. Outdoors, with real concrete, solid walls, and hard metal railings, Rose hesitated to try some of the moves that seemed plausible in the dojo. She noticed a few of the girls in their follow-the-leader drill adapting the sequence to accommodate their own fears, as well.
Or perhaps it was the weather dampening their spirits. Rose could feel the humidity in every breath and had to keep wiping away a trickle of sweat as it tried to sting her eyes. The yoga pants and stretch top she’d worn to protect her arms and legs against scrapes clung to her skin. A simple catwalk across a park bench made her pant. Thunder rumbled off to the north, and the leaves on the trees stirred fitfully.
Rose stepped away from the line of students and looked for Maji. Appearing drier and more composed than the rest of them, Maji spoke into her comm, her expression darkening to match the sky. A flash of heat lightning lit the sky, and she turned her head until she caught sight of Rose watching her. Standing transfixed, Rose watched Maji fish a bottle of water from the cooler, drain half of it, and briskly stride over to her.
“Finish this, and follow me,” Maji said, her eyes flitting from Rose to the horizon. “Act casual.”
Rose chugged the water down and tossed the bottle into a nearby trash can. “Ready.”
Maji led her at a jog across the park toward a neighborhood of tree-lined streets and modest houses. At the edge of the park, they paused, Maji listening and then replying, “No, we’re better on foot. Is it a rental?” She paused to listen briefly. “Just make sure it stays there, and let me know if anyone else is on the move. Out.”
They dashed across the street and into the grassy, graveled alley that ran through the middle of the block, behind the houses. Once out of sight of the street, Maji looked back and slowed to a walk. Rose fell into step with her, asking between gulps of air, “What are we—”
“Watch for a little white car. Or anything else cruising around.” With that, Maji led her on an extended game of follow-the-leader. They crouched low behind hedges to peek at cross streets and flipped themselves over chain-link fences to cut across a parking lot.
The first sprinkles of the imminent thundershower did little to cool Rose off. Instead, they made surfaces slick. When she slipped on a grating, Maji steadied her, and the touch made Rose’s pulse sing. Or was it just the adrenaline?
“We’re almost there,” Maji assured her, stepping back. “You’re doing great.”
Rose flushed. She wasn’t about to admit it—not with Maji genuinely concerned for their safety—but she’d been enjoying herself.
They crossed a narrow street and jogged up the side of yet another modest two-story house. As they approached the six-foot fence at the end of the driveway, Rose recognized the dojo just beyond it. The fence loomed taller in Rose’s overheated eyes, too high to scale even with Maji’s help. Inside the house, a dog barked, and they both turned, following the sound of a window sliding open.
A white-haired head poked out. “What do you think—” The annoyed look on the old woman’s face turned to wonder. “Maji?”
“Hi, Mrs. Altadonna,” Maji replied, blushing. “Sorry to set Figaro off.”
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Altadonna said. “Figgie remembers you. Come on in and say hi.”
Maji glanced up at the sky and held a hand out for the drops of rain beginning to come down. “Another day. We gotta get back to class before it really opens up.”
“Well, come back soon.” Mrs. Altadonna was already sliding the window shut as Maji smiled and waved her good-bye.
“I could use a secret tunnel right now,” Rose sighed as Maji looked through a hole in the fence.
Holding up one finger to pause the discussion, Maji said into the comm, “Roger that. Stand by.” She reached her right hand to the small of her back and withdrew the gun, then gave Rose a hint of a smile. “No tunnel needed.” She flipped a latch between two boards, and a small section of the fence hinged open.
Maji slipped through sideways, and Rose followed. At the back door, Maji keyed in a code and entered first, motioning Rose to wait against the wall just inside the laundry area. “Back in a flash.”
In under a minute, Maji returned, holstering her gun as she spoke. “All clear. Area secured. Sit rep?” She frowned, but nodded. “Okay. Out.”
“No bad guys after all?” Rose asked.
Maji looked less than convinced, but her voice was neutral. “False alarm. Sorry.”
“It was a great parkour lesson,” Rose said, giving her a weary smile. The relative cool of the dojo, with its dehumidifiers humming quietly and the ceiling fans moving the air gently, was immensely refreshing. And the showers were only steps away.
* * *
Bubbles greeted her with a cup of coffee as Rose emerged from the locker room in a fresh T-shirt and her gi. “Ready to play indoors, huh?”
Rose laughed. “Ready for clean clothes.” She accepted the coffee, realizing that she was also hungry. “And a snack?”
Crunching on celery sticks with peanut butter while she arranged the tray of snacks, Rose saw a large van pull up to the back door, Tanya and Christy in the front. The girls spilled out the side door, squealing and giggling as they dashed between raindrops. Soledad hopped out last and stood with her face upturned, catching the rain in a posture of gratitude.
“Amen,” Maji said from beside Rose. At Rose’s startled reaction, she added, “Sorry. I like rain. You?”
Rose thought of all the times she’d run outside with Angelo into a summer downpour to revel in it. “Yes.” She took in Maji’s fresh gi and still damp, neatly rebraided hair. “Summer thunderstorms were part of the magic here. Exotic, like lightning bugs.”
The cacophony of girls headed for the locker room and snack tray forestalled Rose asking Maji about her own experience, her own feelings. Did she find the buildup to a storm stirring, the release when the dark sky finally broke open cathartic? In those moments, Rose always wished she was sharing her summer on Long Island with a lover. Maybe when Angelo was finished, and safe, a simple luxury like this would be theirs.
Maji rotated among the paired students as they worked on striking drills. They’d gone back to the basics while the din of rain on the roof made talking too difficult. When the showers let up, Hannah would have them switch gears again. She had more delicate topics and some trigger-inducing scenarios planned for the afternoon. The kids might as well get their ya-yas out now.
She noticed Rose standing frozen in place, then searching the room for her. Maji caught her eye and moved toward her. As she neared, Rose yelled, “On the porch!”
Maji turned toward the porch and froze as well, but not in fear. With one hand on the doorknob, Iris Fineman stood looking determined to enter, the hair matted to her head, gone dark with the soaking she’d taken between the little white rental car at the curb and the sheltering overhang of the porch. So much for the Please use back entrance sign on the locked door. Maji turned back toward Rose. “That’s Iris,” she said, leaning in close to Rose’s ear to avoid yelling. “Wave her around back.”
Maji strode down the hall, her pulse pounding in her ears, and pushed the door of Hannah’s office open. “Fineman’s here. Now.”
Hannah raised an eyebrow. “With a white compact car?”
“Yes. Probably the one from the park.”
“Then she followed us back. Not Sirko’s people, at least.”
In the rational part of her brain, Maji knew that was more important than how Iris had found the dojo. But if the rational part was trying to say more, the rain was drowning it out. “So you didn’t tell her to come here?”
“I did not,” Hannah replied. “I told her six p.m., at my house.”
Maji let out her breath. “Yeah, well, we know how well she follows the rules.”
“Look who’s talking,” came a rich, slightly raspy voice behind her. Too close, and way too familiar.
Maji pivoted toward the sound and looked up into the blue-gray eyes of the woman dripping on the floor not two feet away. No words came to mind, just a buzzing in the back of her head.
“Since I’m early,” Iris suggested, “let me take you to lunch. To catch up.”
Maji blinked and swallowed down bile. “I have nothing to say to you,” she bit out at last. Then she stepped around Iris and headed straight for the back door.
Rose looked up from the kitchen counter just in time to catch Maji striding toward the door, still barefoot from working on the mats. “Wait,” she started, as the door banged open and then shut again. “You don’t have any shoes.”
“Rose,” Hannah asked, poking her head into the kitchen area, “would you get our guest a towel and something dry to put on?”
“Sure, but—” Rose began, looking out the window at Maji’s retreating form.
“She’ll be fine,” Hannah assured. “Please stay inside until she returns.”
While the students and instructors ate on the porch, Rose waited with her back turned for Iris to strip off her sodden clothing.
“If you’re modest, fine.” The journalist chuckled. “But don’t be polite on my account. I gave up that luxury a lifetime ago.”
Rose turned back toward her and looked past the nude stranger to the washer and dryer combo in the corner. “You can throw your things in the dryer.” She held out a stack of folded clothes.
As Iris entered the kitchen dressed in the borrowed T-shirt and sweats, her hair toweled dry to a rusty red, Rose looked up from the table, where Bubbles had joined her.
“Thanks,” she said, extending a hand. “I’m Iris.” She pronounced her name, as Maji had, ee-rees.
“We need to eat,” Bubbles said, not introducing herself. “Hannah will be here for you in a minute.”
Rose gave Iris’s hand a perfunctory shake. “Drink?” She gestured toward the shelf full of cups. Given Bubbles’s uncharacteristic coldness, she decided not to offer anything more.
“Thanks again,” Iris said, opening the fridge. Seating herself, she asked, “You two teach here?”
Rose looked to Bubbles, who had just taken a bite. “She does. I’m just a student. And you’re the reporter.”
Iris looked surprised, which gave Rose a twinge of guilty pleasure. “Has Ri been talking about me?” Her eyes drifted to the window and the yard beyond, then back to Rose.
“No,” Bubbles answered. Rose made a mental note to never, ever get on her bad side.
Hannah appeared in the doorway, and Iris rose, asking, “Shall we begin?”
“We’ll meet as arranged,” Hannah replied, eyeing the borrowed clothes. “I’ll have your things at my home at six p.m.” She stood aside, sweeping her hand toward the back door.
The sting of pavement on her soles barely registered as Maji loped down the block. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” she spat, one outburst for every stride forward and away. Away.
She’d had months to run through a thousand conversations, all one-sided, in her mind. And she’d never planned to have them in person. Just because Iris had managed to track her down didn’t mean she had to now, either.
Maji crossed the street at the corner, headed into the park with its rain-soaked lawn, and opened into a sprint. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” she belted out.
Panting up the grassy knoll, she looked out over the water as she crested the peak. Starting down the other side, her feet slid out from under her. Maji slapped the hillside, chin tucked, as she landed on her back. She looked up into the slanting rain, now a gentle shower as the storm tapered off. “What the fuck?” she yelled at the sky. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Only the rumble of retreating clouds replied, and Maji laughed mirthlessly, rolled over and pushed herself up, careful not to skid down the hill on her face. She sat on the knoll and looked out at the inlet, the last of the clouds scudding southward, the intermittent drops hitting the water. Her feet stung, and she gingerly crossed each over the opposite knee, inspecting the soles. Pretty scraped up, but no gashes. She should go back and tape them up. Would Iris still be there?
Maji stood, then doubled over and left the remainder of breakfast in the wet grass. “That about sums it up.”
As she straightened back up, Maji caught sight of the silver Humvee cruising through the park. She thought for a New York minute about running again, then sighed, giving up the fantasy of escape for good this time. She waved and waited.
Dev pulled up, took one look at the mud coating her gi, and said, “Wait.” He hopped out and opened the back, pulling out a beach towel and first aid kit while speaking softly into his comm.
Maji laid the towel on the passenger seat and got in, crossing her right foot over her left knee. “Save me the lecture.” She didn’t need to hear how stupid and irresponsible it was to expose herself that way.
“Not my lane,” Dev agreed. He frowned at her dirty sole. “We need to wash those.”
“You can’t come in the dojo,” Maji replied. “Just drop me off—I’ll take care of them.”
Dev shook his head. “I’ve seen you treat yourself.” He pulled the key from the ignition and crossed his arms. “Point me to a wash station. Anyplace secure.”
A few minutes later, they pulled into Mrs. Altadonna’s drive. Maji rolled down her window and listened for Figgie’s yippy bark. Dev was not fond of small dogs, she recalled. “If my friend doesn’t show in two minutes, we’ll borrow the hose.”
Dev looked from the house to her again, and shrugged. “So, Fineman tracked you down, huh? I heard she’d been digging. Guess that’s what happens when you embed an investigative journalist.”
“War correspondent, dude. Whatever.” She looked toward the window, willing Mrs. A to pull back the blind and open it again.
“So she found you, so what? Just say thank you and send her on her way.”
Maji goggled at him. “Thank you?”
“For cutting your little Rambo episode short,” he said, as if stating the obvious.
Maji’s vision wavered. She remembered grabbing the rifle and opening fire. And waking up with a blinding headache, three days after they medevaced her. “She hit me?”
“Somebody had to,” he said matter-of-factly. “I couldn’t get around behind you. Okay, I’ll thank her.”
The house window slid up on Maji’s right, and she accepted Mrs. A’s offer to come inside.
Ten minutes later, dressed in an old terry cloth robe and slippers from the late Mr. Altadonna over well-cleaned and bandaged feet, Maji slipped through the little secret door in the fence for the second time that day. She’d send them back with a nice card and a gift, tomorrow. As Dev called to her from the back door of Mrs. A’s house, she gave him a jaunty wave and snicked the fence boards back into place. Extract yourself, dude.
Angelo sat Maji down on the bed in Carlo’s room. “When you said you wouldn’t work with Iris, this isn’t quite what I pictured.”
He watched Maji square her shoulders and train her eyes on the wall beyond him. Good soldier Rios, prepared to accept whatever discipline he called for. That thousand-yard stare worried him more than her breaking protocol earlier. She was always in danger of beating herself up over relatively small stuff. And he needed her back on her game. “This is where you tell me it won’t happen again, Staff Sergeant.”
“Dev said she knocked me out.”
He’d been passed out in Mashriki’s tent when the women of the camp, led by Iris, had risen up. But he’d gotten a thorough briefing from JSOC during his layup at Walter Reed. From the sound of it, if Iris hadn’t cold-cocked her lover, the heroic Sergeant Rios would have earned a medal for taking dozens of enemy combatant lives. And every one of them would have torn Ri to shreds inside. “I heard that, too. Not so pissed at her now, are you?”
“Doesn’t make it any easier to look at her.” Maji shifted her gaze down. “She asked me to lunch, for fuck’s sake.”
He chuckled. “Sucks to be you, babe.” Her glare in response only served to reassure him. “Some point, you gotta talk to her. But today we got bigger worries.”
She gave him a skeptical look, but took the iPod and earbuds he handed her.
On the audio, Ricky showed Uncle Lupo to the door at the Big House. Then his high-tops squeaked back over the foyer floor to the carpeted living room, and he phumphed down on the couch.
“How come you didn’t tell him about the drone?” Ricky asked.
“Lupo talks to Khodorov,” Gino answered, sounding vexed. “And I don’t want that asshole thinking we don’t have things covered here. I’m with Ang on that.”
“But this guy’s sending hovercraft onto our property. And feeding me instructions. He’s creepy.”
“Since when are you afraid of a messenger boy? You’re making me rethink your place in my organization now.”
“I’m not afraid. It’s just, he keeps showing up from nowhere and telling me things, like what’s on the daily specials at my folks’ restaurant.”
“You think I can’t stand up to some Russian fuck who doesn’t even have the balls to come to me directly?”
“’Course you can, G. It’s just…”
“Rick! Look at me.” Gino paused. “Who do you answer to?”
“You.”
“Okay, so try and pay attention for once. Just because a guy scares you, and you play along a little, doesn’t mean you have to give him anything of real value. You keep telling me what they ask you for, and I’ll keep telling you how to handle them.”
“What if Khodorov finds out?”
There was a smacking sound. “Goddammit! I worry about all the Russians, got it? There is a reason I run this organization and you run around collecting the vig for me. Do you even know why you put Frank in the hospital?”
“You said to. And I do what you say.”
“Jesus,” Gino swore. “First off, you nearly fucking killed him. And then who would I have down there for eyes and ears on that Khodorov kid? Second, Khodorov gets wind that anybody here told Sirko anything, even the crap we’re feeding him, somebody’s gonna go down for that. You want that to be you, or Frank?”
“Oh,” Ricky replied. “Oh. Gotcha.”
Maji handed the iPod back to Angelo and lay back on the bed. “Double-dealing runs in the family, doesn’t it?”
His wry smile said yes. “Gino’s a Benedetti, for sure. More ambitious than Grandpa or Pop, and greedier than both put together. He was smart, he’d tell Khodorov and ask for protection. But he’s just not wired that way.”
“But you’re going to get the program to Sirko somehow, aren’t you?”
“That’s outside mission parameters,” Angelo answered. “And more than you need to know.”
“Does Hannah know?” As Angelo’s support she should, but then as JSOC’s consultant she’d also be bound to tell Command.
“She’s on board.” He didn’t explain further.
“And Tom? Dev?”
“I’m keeping them insulated. Like you, if you’d stop asking questions.”
She let that sink in. It wasn’t the first time the team had chosen a course of action that would make them unsung heroes if they succeeded and hang them out to dry if they didn’t. “Does JSOC know you’re bringing Iris in?”
He paused long enough that she knew he wished he could rewind the whole conversation. “No. And I’m sorry that I had to tell you. But when they debrief you later, at least you can say you didn’t know why.”
Maji doubted the addition of Sirko as a second high-value target was Angelo’s only secret. Or that he really planned to sit in a black-ops prison, taking the blame for going off mission to keep the rest of them out of hot water. Which only left one real exit strategy—and it wasn’t going off grid. Her stomach knotted. Hannah must know. She looked at him levelly, careful not to reveal her suspicions, and reminded herself to breathe. “Hell,” she lied, “I can honestly tell Command that I didn’t want to know.”