18. Garrett

18

GARRETT

We tore out of the motel parking lot just as the whole place lit up red and blue. I drove a few miles, then pulled over at a gas station and called Director Gibson. I didn’t trust the FBI with our safety but I could at least let them help figure out who the assassins were. I filled him in and told him about the prints on the broken vase.

We sped on through the night, our pickup the lone car moving on the deserted highway. The guards and Caroline were dozing in the back, the Princess up front with me. The guilt built and built in my chest until I finally broke the silence. “I’m sorry, Your Highness,” I muttered.

“For what?” That beautiful voice, glass-smooth and gentle. It seemed to glow in the darkness, lighting up the dark places.

“Grabbing you like that.”

She didn’t answer, but I could feel her looking at me. I stared hard at the road. I knew what was coming. I felt myself tense, felt all that anger and shame rise up and lock me down.

“It looked like maybe you were remembering something,” she said carefully.

My forearms flexed. The steering wheel creaked. But there was something about that voice. It coated my mind like cool running water, calming me. Everything was still locking down, but more slowly.

“What was it?” she prompted.

I owed her an explanation, but I couldn’t let those memories out. I couldn’t handle reliving it all, or seeing Baker’s face again. And I didn’t want her to see what a mess I was. Bad enough that she must be terrified of me, now.

“Nothing I want to talk about,” I muttered.

She bit her lip and nodded, then turned to stare out of the window. Aw, hell. My stomach twisted. She’d only been trying to help.

I sucked in a breath and hardened myself. Getting close to her had just put her in more danger. From now on, I had to keep my distance. And if I wanted to keep her alive, I had to figure out which one of her guards was the traitor. I looked in the rear view mirror.

Emerik was sitting with his arms primly crossed, his back ramrod straight even in sleep. He’d tried to stop me going into her room. To protect her from me? Or to protect the assassin? He’d claimed he hadn’t heard anything. Because he was in his sixties and his hearing wasn’t as sharp as mine? Or had he heard the same sounds I had and flat-out lied? Afterwards, he’d looked guilty as hell. Because he’d messed up? Or because he was in league with her attacker?

Then there was Jakov. Everything pointed to him. He was new to the job. His parents were from a country that was still Lakovia’s enemy, even if the fighting had stopped. The same country the lead assassin seemed to come from. He could have been placed as a sleeper agent. Or someone could have turned him, or blackmailed him into helping them.

I sighed. It could be either of them. The only way to know was to test them.

Just outside Phoenix, I pulled into a gas station and roused everyone. “Use the restroom, grab a drink,” I told them. “We’re heading for Tucson.”

Jakov just nodded politely but Emerik spoke up. “How long will that be?”

“Two hours, maybe a little less.”

He hurried off in the direction of the restrooms. A few moments later, he was back. Just long enough for him to pull out a secret cell phone and tell the assassins where we’re heading.

I reached the off-ramp for Tucson before I announced, “Changed my mind. We’ll head on to Benson and stop there. Less people, less chance the Princess will be recognized. It’s only another hour.”

Emerik’s face fell. “Are you sure, Mr. Buchanan? Why not just stick to the plan?”

Yeah, I thought, furious, because your buddies are waiting for us in Tucson, aren’t they?

“Mr. Buchanan knows this country better than us,” the Princess told him. Benson will be fine.”

I saw Emerik look forlornly at the lights of Tucson as we sped past. And he got more and more agitated as we drove on. Soon he was checking his watch every few minutes and I could see sweat gleaming on his forehead. My chest tightened. I was sure, now. Yeah, you need to call and tell them where we’re really heading, don’t you?

As we drove on, I could see him constantly watching Caroline and Jakov. When it looked like both of them were dozing, he reached into his pocket. I stared in amazement. He was so desperate, he was going to try to send a message right there, from the back seat. But then Jakov stirred and Emerik quickly pulled his hand back.

We pulled into Benson just after dawn. I found a diner and we all trooped inside. I could feel my heart pounding. This is it.

Right on cue, Emerik said, “I need to use the restroom.” And he was gone, almost running towards the door.

I told the others I’d be back in a minute and marched towards the restroom, the anger building with each step. That son of a bitch. The Princess had trusted him for years, since she was a child. And he’d betrayed her in the worst way possible.

I silently opened the restroom door. Four stalls. One occupied. I couldn’t hear him talking to anyone, so he must be texting. I took a step back, gathered myself and smashed my boot against the door. It flew open, crashing against the wall. And there sat Emerik, with—

What?!

With a syringe in his hand.

For a second, we just stared at each other. Then I grabbed him by the throat, lifted him into the air and slammed him against the wall. “You’re a junkie?” I yelled. “ That’s how they got to you? They got you hooked, then they blackmailed you?”

“ What?” he croaked. “ Who?!”

“The assassins! You ran in here to tell them where we were! Just like you called them to tell them we were going to Tucson!”

The confusion in his eyes turned to shock, then anger. “You think I’d betray her?” He closed his eyes and sighed. “I’m diabetic !” He said it as if it was some huge confession. “No one knows.”

I blinked. And replayed the last few hours in my head.

Me rousing him in Phoenix. Him running off to the restroom to check his glucose levels in secret. Asking how long until we got to Tucson. Figuring that he could inject there, in two hours. Then being trapped for an extra hour in the car, getting pale and sweaty, unable to inject without revealing his secret….

Shit! It all made sense. I released him and he dropped to the floor. “Why keep it a secret?” I demanded.

“I’m past retirement age!” he snapped. “Any physical weakness and I’d be gone, and—” He looked down at his polished shoes for a second. “And protecting her is my life,” he said quietly.

All the adrenaline drained out of me. It wasn’t him. I could hear the emotion in his voice and you can’t fake that kind of loyalty. I cursed and leaned back against the wall of the stall. Then I filled Emerik in on the leak, and how I’d narrowed it down to the two guards.

“It’s Jakov,” he said immediately. “I never trusted him.”

It made sense on paper, given Jakov’s heritage, but he didn’t feel like a traitor. Goddammit, I’m no good at this!

I marched back to the table and asked the Princess for a moment alone. Then I told her everything that had happened, leaving out Emerik’s diabetes. She was furious that I’d tested him, but relieved that he was cleared. “So now what?” she asked.

It had to be Jakov. But I couldn’t accuse him without evidence. And until I figured out how to prove it and neutralized him, the assassins were going to follow us wherever we went. Dammit!

We went back to the table and I gave the waitress twenty bucks to let us make a call on her cell phone. FBI Director Gibson picked up on the second ring and I put him on speaker.

“The guy who left his prints on the vase is Silvas Lukin,” Gibson told us. “I’m looking at his photo right now. Mean-looking son of a—”—he caught himself when he remembered who was listening—”Sorry, Your Highness. Anyway, he was an officer in the Garmanian army.”

The Princess looked up at me, her eyes huge with fear. Emerik said nothing, but his shoulders had set hard with tension. Jakov was staring at the phone as if willing it to unsay what it had just said.

“ Was?” asked the Princess.

“He was jailed for war crimes. He ran a special ops unit tasked with operations behind Lakovian lines. Very efficient: he was awarded a whole slew of medals. But his unit also got a reputation for cruelty. They were sent to assassinate a Lakovian strategist and they tortured his wife in front of him first. They were told to destroy a weapons plant and, instead of just letting the civilian staff escape, they rounded them up in the cafeteria and executed them. But the worst one was in a town called…”—he struggled with the pronunciation—”Thoreeny? Thorina?”

“ Thorine,” whispered the Princess .

I’d never heard her sound so scared. Raw horror, something so bad it was buried in her psyche forever. Something she’d give anything to un-know. I reached under the table, grabbed her hand and squeezed it tight.

The others were having the same reaction. “That was him?” muttered Emerik. Caroline looked as if she was about to start crying.

“What happened in Thorine?” I asked helplessly.

“It was a town Garmania took over early in the war,” said Gibson. “Lakovia had finally liberated it. Lukin and his team sneaked in to...to get revenge, I guess. They went to the town’s main church and—” He broke off. When he spoke again, his voice was thick with emotion. “Oh. Oh Jesus.”

The Princess was squeezing my hand like that was all that was holding back the tears. “It was where we’d taken all the children,” she whispered. “To keep them safe.”

“Lukin’s team used gas,’ said Gibson. “Three hundred and sixty-seven children. Dead. Lukin said at his trial that he didn’t want them growing up into more Lakovian parasites. They sent him to a military jail for life, but he escaped four months ago. And it’s not just him. The guy you shot, at the motel? One of Lukin’s old unit. My bet is that all the assassins are. Lukin’s put his old special ops team back together.”

We still didn’t know if these people were operating on their own or with the backing of the Garmanian government. But at least we knew who we were up against: a special ops team, used to sneaking behind enemy lines, lead by an absolute psycho who detested Lakovians.

And now their mission was to kill the Princess .

I reached under the table with my other hand and clasped the Princess’s hand in both of mine. Not if I have anything to do with it.

“What do we do?” asked the Princess. It was the most shaken I’d seen her.

I sighed and tried to think. We couldn’t risk going to New York until we got rid of the traitor: we’d be sitting ducks on a plane.

I needed somewhere I could protect her. Somewhere safe. Somewhere familiar.

The answer came to me and I closed my eyes and let out an exhausted sigh. No! I couldn’t. I couldn’t face him. Couldn’t put him in danger.

“What?” asked the Princess.

I opened my eyes. I couldn’t let her be in danger, either. I made up my mind.

“We’re going to Texas,” I told her. “We’re going home.”