Judge & Jury

Chapter 93

IF I DIDN'T KNOW for sure that I was in love with Andie DeGrasse, the flight to Israel removed all doubt. For much of it we just sat there, our hands locked. I felt something steady and unwavering running from her to me. Andie slept, her head leaning against my shoulder. She bolstered me. She gave me the courage to do what I felt was right.

Our first night in Tel Aviv was spent eating dinner in a quiet café on Shenkin Street, and fighting jet lag. Back in the room we made love, trying to forget-for a night, anyway-why we were here. In the morning we would drive up the coast to Haifa.

It only took about an hour and a half. We passed beach towns on the way up the coastal highway. The city's physical beauty surprised me. Haifa rose dramatically on steep mountain terraces above the gem-blue sea. Lowest was the port and the Old Town, with its ancient stone walls built by crusaders. Farther up was the busy downtown, the scents of bakeries, bazaars, modern businesses. Then higher still, the bustling heights of Mount Carmel, overlooking the Mediterranean.

Up here there were modern hotels, residential streets jutting out over the sea with posh homes and incredible vistas, boulevards of trendy restaurants and stores.

Kolya Remlikov was up here, too.

I was certain that Remlikov wasn't his name here. The name he went by now didn't matter. We dropped off our bags at the Dan Panaroma Hotel. Our twenty-fifth-floor room had a stunning view of the sea.

"It's beautiful," Andie said, gazing out the window.

"It is." I nodded. I placed my hands on her shoulders."Just remember why we're here."

"It doesn't mean we can't find time to take a swim in the Mediterranean."

"Go ahead." I picked a few things out of my travel case: a set of binoculars, a map, my gun, which was licensed."I'll be back in a little while."

"Nick"-Andie turned, a worried look on her face-“don't do anything without me. Promise?"

"Relax." I smiled."I'm just going sightseeing. I promise."

I had our rented Ford parked in front of the hotel. I got behind the wheel, then folded back the map. I had marked out this route many times in advance. I almost felt as if I actually knew the way.

Yehudi Street . 225.

I drove higher up the mountain, on Yefe Nof, a little way past the hotel. Up here was Carmel Center -parks, museums, trendy cafés. Farther up, the road began to loop in ever-narrowing switchbacks overlooking the sea. I turned onto Hayem, then Vashar. Up here, there were expensive homes with dramatic views. I kept on climbing higher. The road clung to the clifflike sides of Mount Carmel. The brilliant blue Mediterranean was a thousand feet below.

Finally I found Yehudi. It was a quiet, residential street with a spectacular view. Number 225 was a few houses down. It was a white, flat-roofed contemporary, down a short stone drive. As I passed it, I felt my blood run cold a little. I drove on to the next switchback, then stopped at a point where I didn't think I could be detected. I got out of the car with the binoculars and looked back down at the house.

Through the lens I could see an expensive house. Murder was always a business that paid handsomely. I didn't see anyone. I didn't see any activity inside. There was a blue minivan parked in the driveway, a European model.

I squinted through the lens.

After a few minutes, I knew I'd better move on. Someone would drive by. The area was affluent, probably well patrolled. I could always say I was up here for the view, but I couldn't keep hanging around.

The garage door suddenly started to open.

A white Audi backed out. I focused closely. The glass was tinted, but the driver's window was rolled down. I could see.

It was him.Remlikov! He was wearing sunglasses, but I recognized him immediately. My heart jumped as if it had been jolted with an electric shock.

And someone else was in the car with him. I shifted the lens. It was a boy. In the passenger seat. He looked about ten, maybe younger. The Audi backed out and turned around in the driveway. I could clearly see Remlikov now.

I found you, Remlikov. I found you, you bastard!

The Audi pulled out onto Yehudi Street and drove away.

I remained there for a few minutes, making notes about the house. Today, I didn't want to follow. I had promised Andie. I got back in the car and drove away.

As I went by the house, I paused for a second in front of the mailbox. I pulled the latch. Quickly, I filtered through and grabbed the most innocuous-looking junk mail I could find. They had junk mail here, too, in Israel.

Back at the hotel, I opened the door to find Andie on the bed taking a nap. She stirred."What'd you find?"

"I found the house. It's nearby. I'll take you there tomorrow."

Andie sat up. She nodded, a little tentatively.

"Andthis, " I said, tossing the piece of junk mail, a solicitation from a local rug cleaner, on the bed."Souvenir. His name isn't Remlikov or Kollich.

"It's Richard Nordeshenko."

Chapter 94

"LOOK!" NICK POINTED toward the modern, glass-ringed house a hundred feet below."That's him! That's Remlikov."

Andie focused the binoculars. She spied the man-thin, dark, not so large, not so scary. A surge of anger tightened her chest.

She hadn't known how she would feel when she saw the man who killed her son. And now that it was happening, now that he was only a few yards away, she knew it wasn't what she wanted. It made her stomach cramp.

"I see him." Andie's fingers gripped the binoculars even more tightly. Behind her, Nick squeezed her arm.

"Does he look familiar?"

"No." She wished he did. She wanted to feel deep hatred for him. Revulsion.Something. So this was the killer? The man who took her whole world away? She shook her head again."No. I've never seen him before."

"He lives with his wife and son."

"He has aboy? " That, Andie hadn't expected. Did his family know? The terrible things he'd done? When they were sitting at their meals or kicking a ball between them or whatever the hell they did? How could someone with a child do these horrible things?

"He goes out every day around this time," Nick said, gazing through his own binoculars."At four, he drives his son."

"Nick." Andie put down the glasses and looked at him, teary-eyed."I don't think I can do this. I know I'm supposed to hate this man. Look what he did to me. I know what we need from him. I know what we have to do. It's just that…You sonovabitch, " she spat toward the house. She turned her eyes away.

"Just do what you have to do," she said angrily."You were right. Youare right."

Suddenly the garage doors started to open again. Nick glanced at his watch."There he goes."

The man who had killed her son stepped out of a door from inside the garage. He was wearing a white, short-sleeved shirt, tan slacks, and sunglasses. He looked around for a second, then climbed in the Audi and started the car.

"Every day. Same time. There's the boy."

Andie turned and brought the glasses up again. The boy couldn't have been much more than eleven or twelve. A little older than Jarrod. He was innocent, she told herself, of whatever the father had done."Where are they going?"

"I don't know. I want to follow them. Are you okay with that?"

Andie nodded. This scum. This bastard.How could he play the loving father when he knew what he had done?

The boy stepped out of the house and met the car, which was backing around in the driveway.

Andie focused closer. He was carrying a book and what looked like a portable computer. The cover of the book came into view. She didn't know why she was even interested.

Chess.

The boy climbed into the Audi.

"Come on," Nick said. He tossed his binoculars into the backseat."Let's go. I don't want to fall too far behind."

Andie nodded, about to put down the lens, taking one more sweep of the car backing up to the front of the house.

Then, as if she'd been plunged into an icy pool of water, she exclaimed,"Oh my God, Nick!"

The shock of what she had just seen sent a violent, nauseating force through her. She became covered in perspiration as flashes of the horrible memory invaded her brain."Oh, Jesus Christ, no."

"What?" Nick put the car back in park.

"Look in the house!" Her jaw tightened, and her mouth was so dry she could barely spit out the words."You see that man?"

Nick grabbed the binoculars from her.

He saw the man standing near the front window, hands on hips, in sweatpants and a white Guinness T-shirt, watching Remlikov drive away.

"That's him!" The blood drained out of Andie's face. She could see his long blond hair in her mind's eye.

"That's the same man I saw running from the van!"

Chapter 95

THE NEXT DAY, Andie stayed back at the hotel while I tracked Remlikov's movements. I followed him and his son down the mountain to his chess lessons on Hassan Street, in the center of town.

At night, I held on to her tightly. Seeing that man had brought everything back-the bus, the explosion, Jarrod. I saw in her face the same pain as that day in the ER after it all happened: the events suddenly fresh and vivid again.

That night I was sure she was asleep, but she was just lying there in the darkness, wide awake. Once or twice, I felt her shudder, then she turned away from me and buried her head into the pillow."It's okay," I whispered, and wrapped my arms around her, trying to make her strong. But I knew it wasn't okay. I knew the hurt was fresh and new. This face from the past complicated everything.

On the next night, just before dawn, I was lying in bed thinking, tracing the first rays of light as they washed over the room.

"Do you know how you're going to do this?" Andie asked, surprising me.

"Yes." I turned to her.

I had a plan. I was just afraid to share it. I knew it wouldn't go over well with her.

We had to get to Remlikov. The problem was, he rarely left the house. I couldn't burst in there, guns blazing. We needed Remlikov alive. I knew there was only one way-one leverage.

The boy.

There was no way around it, and I knew how troubling this would be for her. Also, I needed Andie's help. So I told Andie what had to be done-that it involved the boy.

"It's going to be dangerous," I said, shifting onto my elbow.

I knew precisely what I was asking. The boy was innocent, just as Jarrod was. But we had to get at Remlikov through the one thing that he loved most-just as he had taken the one thing from her that she loved most.

"Nick." She shook her head."I can't do that."

"We're not looking for a favor from him, Andie. We're squeezing a killer for a piece of information that could get us all killed. It's the only way he's vulnerable. I told you before we came how hard this was going to be."

"Do you know what you're asking? You're asking me to do the same thing to another mother that's just happened to me."

"I know what I'm asking, Andie." I reached for her."I'm not a killer, Andie. But these people are."

She stared back at me, thinking I was suddenly capable of the same violence and evil that had taken her son.

"I give you my word, whatever happens, the boy won't be harmed."

"Oh, yes he will.He will. "

I ran my hand through her hair, pulling a few strands away from her face."I need you to say yes, Andie. I need your help to get it done."

"And if I don't?"

"Then we walk away. We get on that plane and go back home. We forget about Cavello."

Andie sucked in a breath, wrapping her arms around her knees."And if I say yes? Afterward, what happens?"

"We let the boy go, Andie.We let the boy go. "

She shook her head."I meant with Remlikov. And the blond man."

I told the truth."I don't know."

She nodded, and after a while her body just sank into mine."He can't be harmed," she said."The boy…"

"Of course not." I squeezed her."I promise."

Chapter 96

PAVEL NORDESHENKO WAS twelve years old, and he no longer liked that his father still insisted on driving him to his lessons in the center of town.

Other boys his age were riding the Metro. Sometimes, when his father was away on his many trips, his mother let him take the bus lines. He liked to spend a few minutes in the bustling streets of the Old Town, far away from the sprawling vistas of Carmel Center and the heights.

Down here, where Abhramov's academy was, the streets were narrow and busier.Alive! The smells were of leather goods and spices and Arab bakeries. The sounds of merchants hawking their goods in the bazaar.

His father was always overprotective. Pavel wanted to go with his friends to the cinema or the beach, but Father always said,"You can't be too safe. Too careful." What was he always so afraid of? Sometimes his mother would let him take a day off, but his father always made him go to his lessons, as if it were religious study.

"There is a tournament next month, in Tel Aviv," his father said as they drove quietly through the crowded streets."Would you like to go?"

Pavel shrugged. Tournaments meant work, more studying to prepare.

"There will be masters from other countries there. Sergei thinks you are ready. What do you say?"

"I guess." Pavel shrugged."If he says I'm ready."

The car turned onto Allenby Street. The Baha'i Gardens were in full spring bloom.

"There is a casino in Caesaria. On the way back, we might stop. I'm told they play a little poker there. Just like the Americans. I know a man there who owes me a favor. He might get you in. Just to watch."

"You think?"

"I don't know," his father said, hiding a smile."I've been known to have a few connections here and there."

They made the turn on crowded Hassan Street. Down here, the traffic was mostly mopeds and small delivery trucks. And taxis filled with tourists making their way up from the port.

Master Abhramov's studio was over a pita bakery. The place always smelled sweetly of dough. Their car slowed in front of the run-down building.

"Study hard." His father winked."There's a lot at stake."

Pavel gathered up his notebook and computer, and opened the door. He ran inside Abhramov's building, on cloud nine. As he headed for the narrow stairs, a man was standing in his way.

"I'm afraid that I'm lost," he said."Do you know where Haaretz Street is?"

The man was large and handsome, in a blue shirt and khakis, his eyes hidden by sunglasses. He spoke English like a tourist. American, perhaps.

"Haaretz? I think it's just down there. At the end of the street."

"Can you show me?" the man asked."I'm not from around here."

Abhramov would be expecting him. They had an hour and a half, and the grumpy old master didn't like him to be late.

"Just here." Pavel pushed back through the door and pointed."At the end. The bakery. You see?"

That was one of the last things he remembered.

Other than a hand wrapping around his mouth, and the damp, acrid cloth that smelled of chemicals. And the feeling of total weightlessness, of being carried away.

And the fear that his father would be angry when he came to pick him up and he wasn't there.

Chapter 97

"MIRA, LISTEN CLOSELY.I can't find Pavel! "

Nordeshenko's heart was beating wildly. The chess instructor said his son had never arrived for his lesson. It had happened a few times before-always when Nordeshenko was away on business. He combed the streets around the studio. He checked the ice-cream stalls, the bakeries, Pavel's favorite places. No one had seen the boy.

"He wasn't there when I went to pick him up at Abhramov's. I was hoping he had called."

"What do you mean?" His wife became alarmed."He always waits there. He knows not to stray."

"He didn't go to his lesson. Is there anywhere he might go that you can think of? Someplace he's spoken of? A friend?" How many times had he told the boy he had to be careful?

"No!" Mira's voice began to get excited."Maybe he took the bus. I've let him once or twice."

"He wouldn't let us know?"

Over the years, Nordeshenko had experienced the hollow feeling when a job didn't go right. He had that feeling now.

"We've got to call the police," Mira said.

"No!"The police! That was exactly what he couldnot do. Draw attention to himself. Now-with Reichardt in his house. What if they looked into him? He'd have to explain where he'd been overseas. And who this visitor was.

No, he had to think."You could be right about the bus. I'll follow the line. I'll call you closer to home."

Nordeshenko switched off and wound the Audi through the streets of the Old Town, frantically searching for his son's face amid the crowds.This is payback, he thought,for the things I have done.

On Hassan Shukri, near Memorial Park, he overtook a city bus and swung the car in front of it to block its path."I'm looking for my son," he yelled, and pounded on the door for the driver to open."Please, let me in!"

People would be panicked, he knew. They would think him a terrorist!"Look, I'm not armed." He put out his arms. Finally, the hesitant driver opened the door.

"Pavel!" Nordeshenko jumped on, searching the rows of startled passengers.

Pavel wasn't there!

"I'm sorry, but we must move on," the driver said. Nordeshenko stepped back onto the street.

Mira was right. They would have to call the police. There was no escaping it. Even to delay a minute could endanger his son more. Reichardt would have to leave-immediately. But surely Mira would mention him. The police would look into him.This was very bad!

Minutes later, Nordeshenko pulled into his driveway. He slammed the Audi door and ran into his house."Any word?"

"No." Mira shook her head, clearly panicked.

"We're in trouble," Nordeshenko said, realizing now there was no other choice.

Reichardt came in from the deck."What's wrong?"

"You have to leave.Now. Pavel is missing. We have to call the police."

The South African's eyes stretched wide. Nordeshenko instinctively knew what the man was thinking. The conversation would turn to their visitor. They would have to explain him-and why he had had to leave so suddenly.

The telephone rang, reprieving them.

Mira covered her mouth."Maybe that's him."

Nordeshenko ran to the phone. He didn't want to let the South African out of his sight. He swallowed, lifting the receiver.

"Pavel?"

"You have a nice boy," the voice on the line replied."I'm going to give you instructions, and the degree to which you follow them will determine whether you ever see him again."

"What?" Nordeshenko grunted. So it was some kind of kidnapping. He spoke in English.Perfect English.

"I have your son," the caller said again."The good news is you can have him back safe and sound in a matter of minutes. The bad news is if you don't do precisely what I ask, you'll never see him again."

"Who is this?" Nordeshenko demanded.

"Never mind who it is. What I'd focus on now is which of those two scenarios you see taking place."

Nordeshenko looked at Mira, gave her a bolstering nod."Let's proceed with the good news. Getting Pavel back."

"That's wise. First things first. I think we're both aware that it's not in either of our interests to involve the police. Do we have an understanding on that?"

"We don't have an understanding on anything, except that you will give me back my son. I want to speak with him."

"I'm afraid that won't be happening. Let's just say he's wearing jeans and a red sweatshirt and Nike sneakers, and he's carrying some chess books and a wallet with a picture of his family in his pocket. As far as the rest, I'm afraid you'll have to trust us on that."

"You don't have any idea who you're dealing with," Nordeshenko threatened into the phone.

"Oh, yes I do. I know who I'm dealing with,Kolya Remlikov. "

Chapter 98

IF SOMEONE HAD suddenly burst in and blasted Nordeshenko up against the wall with a shotgun, he would have been no less stunned. No one had uttered that name to him in ten years.

He realized he was dealing with a more serious adversary.

"You hurt him," Nordeshenko said,"you'll be paying for that mistake the rest of your life."

"Hurthim?" the American caller said."I believe that's more your style, Remlikov. You mean hurt him as in the elevator of the courthouse back in New York? Like what you did to those two marshals?"

Whatever color was left in Nordeshenko's face drained.

Who could this be? Who had traced him? Even Cavello's people didn't know who he was. This was worse than a ransom. His whole life was unraveling.

Nordeshenko's mouth was as dry as sandpaper."How much do you want?" he muttered.

"How much do we want? Not a cent, not a penny. You can have your boy back and go on with your decrepit, lying life. All you have to do is give me a single piece of information."

"Information." Nordeshenko wet his lips."And what is that?"

"Cavello," the caller answered.

Nordeshenko's heart crashed to a stop. He had never once given a client up. He had never traded with anybody, never considered it. The list of people he worked with was sacred.

The American went on,"I'm giving youone hour. After that, you'll never see your boy again. Your identity and Interpol dossier will be turned over to the Israeli police."

"And what if I can't help you?" Nordeshenko asked."What if I don't know?"

"Then I'd start packing."

What could he do? They knew his name. How to reach him. They knew it was he who had helped Cavello escape. And they had the one thing that he valued most in the world in their possession."Okay," he said.

"Give me your mobile phone number-I'll contact you within an hour. Drive down the hill. Wait for my call. The meet will be quick. And Kolya, I think we both know what a tragedy it would be if the police were involved."

"You've got a lot of balls," Nordeshenko said."Whoever you are." But he gave the man his number.

"That's quite a statement, Kolya, after what I've seen you do."

The line went dead. Nordeshenko gave Mira a reassuring nod. Then he signaled to the South African.

"Come on, Reichardt. There's work to do."

Chapter 99

WE DROVE THE CAR to an abandoned tobacco warehouse I had scouted in the seedy Hadar section of town. And waited. The boy was sleeping peacefully. I gave him a breath of fresh ether every time he stirred.

Over the years, in the course of my job, I'd done a few things I wasn't proud of. None like this. The boy was innocent, whatever his father had done. We watched him sleep in the backseat. Andie was sitting next to him, calming him. Once or twice she brushed his light-brown hair.

The exchange couldn't come too quickly for either of us.

"Where are we going to meet?" Andie asked, the boy's head resting on her thigh.

"You mean, where amI going to meet him? In the Baha'i Gardens. Six o'clock. There's an outdoor concert going on an hour later. The place should be jammed."

Andie nodded.

"I'll need to tape his mouth and bind his hands, Andie. It's necessary. He'll be awake. I want him in the car with you. You can reassure him he's going to see his father in a few minutes. When it's time, I'll call you. You drive up, look for my signal, then you let him go. And you get the hell out of there-you understand? I don't want you anywhere around after it's done."

"Where?"

"Back to the hotel." We'd changed lodgings this morning, out of the fancy Panorama to a smaller pension in the Old Town, where we didn't even have to leave our passports."We're leaving for Tel Aviv tonight."

"Where are we heading?"

" Paris. Late flight out. Assuming all goes well."

"And after that?"

I opened the car door."That part of the itinerary is yet to be determined."

The boy stirred. The anesthetic was wearing off. Soon, I would let him wake. I glanced at my watch for about the fiftieth time. The hour had passed."Time."

Andie smiled bravely.

I got out and called Remlikov on his mobile. I told him the location where we were going to meet. I didn't want Andie to hear what I had to say.

I came back to the car and sat in the front seat."It's done." I nodded, leaning back with a sick expression, as if I'd been chewing rancid meat.

"You know, I'm okay with this, Nick.I am. There's just one thing that doesn't seem right."

"What's that?"

"Remlikov. And the blond guy. They're the ones who killed Jarrod. They get off free?"

"We knew that coming over here, Andie. We came for Cavello. He's the one who ordered it done."

Suddenly, I heard the sound of the boy stirring."Father?"

I got out of the car and opened the rear door."Here." I tossed Andie a baseball cap."I want you wearing this at all times. And the sunglasses. The boy cannot see your face. This is when it starts to get dicey, Andie. I want you to be very careful from this point on."

"Yeah, thanks." Andie nodded flatly.

I took the rope and some duct tape. She stroked the boy, as if she were comforting Jarrod."Sshh… it's going to be all right."

"And one more thing." Our eyes met, as close as I could come in this moment to an embrace."After the exchange, you wait an hour, that's all. If I don't come back to the hotel, you drive to Tel Aviv. You make that flight."

"Assuming things go wrong."

"You won't know. You just take off. Okay?"

She shook her head."I'm not leaving you."

"Believe me, if I'm not back in an hour, you won't have to worry about that."

Chapter 100

I'M NOT SURE who first decided to build the vast, multiterraced gardens that climb steeply up the slope of Mount Carmel and are dedicated to the Baha'i faith, but whoever it was had perfect insight into the art of the clandestine exchange.

The grounds were public enough to get lost in and open enough to spot any unwanted accomplices hanging around. It had multiple exits leading to heavily trafficked thoroughfares. Tours were constantly going around, and that Thursday, late in the afternoon, the gardens were as crowded as the lawn at a Tanglewood concert.

If this goes well, I told myself, trying to calm my nerves,I might even give some thought to converting.

I got there at 6:45 p.m., a few minutes early, and stood around the statue of someone named Sayyid Ali Muhammad, or the Bab, on the lowest level of the gardens, where I told Remlikov we would meet. I had given him only thirty minutes' warning, not much time to prepare. The elaborate park had eighteen different terraces. He didn't know whether I was at the upper or lower gardens. And with Ben Gurion Street only meters away, it would be easy for Andie to drop the boy and escape.

Me-that could be an entirely different story.

I'd done secret meets dozens of times, but always with the confidence that someone with a listening device and a sniper's rifle was watching my back. Never naked, on unprotected turf-and with the slight complication of having kidnapped some cold-blooded killer's kid.

Crowds were starting to form. Some Israeli folksinger was performing two levels up. The setting couldn't be better. I told myself, just think like it's Madison Square Garden. All I had to do, once the exchange was made, was blend in with the crowd and get away.

At five of six, I took out my cell in front of the statue and gave Remlikov our final call."Are you here?"

"I'm here.What about my son?"

"Walk to the statue of Ali Muhammad off Ben Gurion Street. You know it?"

"I know it. How will I know you?"

"I'll be the one holding the twelve-year-old with tape over his mouth. Don't worry, I'll know you."

Remlikov sniffed, unamused."It will take me a few minutes. I'm on the upper level."

"Don't bother, then. In five minutes, I'll be gone." I punched off the line. He'd be here. I didn't want to give him a single extra moment to prepare.

Chapter 101

I HAVE TO ADMIT, the following couple of minutes were as tense and heart-stopping as any in my life. I tried to focus on the crowds, mostly young people and families heading up to the higher terraces. An occasional policeman wandered by, dangling the ubiquitous Uzi.

I checked my Glock one last time. I adjusted my sunglasses. I tried to calm the riot in my gut.

5:59 p.m. Come on, Remlikov. This has to happen now!

Then I spotted him coming out of the crowd. He was wearing an open-collar print shirt and a black leather jacket. A few people passed in front of us, but he focused directly on me. Must've been the chess book I was holding prominently. He walked right up to me. He removed his sunglasses and took a long look into my eyes. I had seen the faces of many professional killers. There was always a dull glaze in the eye, even when they smiled. Remlikov had it in spades.

"Stand in front of me," I said, shifting my back to the statue. I didn't want any sudden ambush taking me by surprise.

He glanced at the chess book."I believe that's mine."

I handed it over to him.

"And myson, " he added as if we were talking merchandise.

"Cavello," I replied.

"You've come a long way on the premise I know where he is." He smiled.

"You're wasting time that could be very valuable. I leave here in two minutes."

"Two minutes." He pursed his thin lips."I'll take my chances. Neither of us wants to walk away empty-handed. You surprised me today. Surprise is a reaction I've grown used to doing without. I'd take it as a courtesy if you told me how you found me."

"The business in New York or your real name?"

"Any order." He shrugged back politely.

I glanced toward the ground. Then I looked back at him with a slight smile."Your shoes." He was still wearing them."Not very high-tech, I'm afraid. But I hear they're all the rage in this part of the world."

"My shoes." Remlikov snorted, at first with surprise, then with a roll of his eyes. He shifted on his bum left leg."My feet kill me." He shook his head."Even now."

"You might think about a change of brand, if you plan to continue work."

"No more," he said,"I'm finished."

"Wise. You're a family man. Now, you have something for me?"

"You didn't finish." Remlikov continued to look at me."Though I have the feeling I can take it from here. If you were able to identify my shoes, you must have seen some kind of security tape of what took place. To link that to me, my history, and find me here, that would take a lot of help. Resources. Governmental resources, I'm quite sure. Homeland Security? FBI?"

"Those are a lot of assumptions," I said with a deferential nod,"for a man who only hasone minute."

"Not so high-tech also." Remlikov smiled."I recognize you as the person who shot at us in the courthouse during our escape."

I took off my glasses. Now we were staring at each other face to face."Paid good money for these suckers, too."

"But more important, I'm wondering why an American law enforcement agent in Haifa has to kidnap my son instead of breaking down my door with a warrant if he knew my whereabouts. And more to the point-for purely selfish reasons-how many other people you might be associated with know as well."

"All good questions," I said, deciding to indulge him a few seconds longer."And what have you come up with?"

"That you must somehow be a very desperate man. Or, at the very least, extremely passionate in your work."

"Chat's over. Now you have to convince me why I should give you back your boy and not shoot you on the spot for what you did in New York."

A wistful smile creased Remlikov's lips."Because I have something very valuable for you. Something that could get us both killed, and very probably will one day."

"And what if that isn't enough?" This man had done such horrible things. He deserved to die or at least to rot for the rest of his life in prison. An urge rose up in me, to take out my gun and do to him what he deserved-after he gave me what I needed.

Of course, he was probably thinking the same thing.

"Then, because you're not me." Remlikov shrugged."How is that?"

I wanted to get this done with. Andie was probably dying with anxiety, wondering what was going on here."Clock's on," I said.

"What you are looking for is in South America," he said." Argentina, I believe. Or Chile. At the very bottom, near the tip. Cavello has a ranch there. Sheep, I think."

"Keep going," I prodded. I knew he was holding back.

"How do I know you will not turn my name over to the authorities the minute you have Cavello?"

"How doI know you won't alert him as soon as you have your boy?"

We stood there facing each other, looking into each other's eyes. Remlikov smiled."My son is a chess player. He has a natural gift for avoiding stalemates. But of course, you already know that."

"I don't play chess." I shrugged."But I was thinking, since we both know something about the other that would be best not to get out, it would probably be a good thing if we never set eyes on each other again."

"I was thinking that, too." Remlikov nodded."I believe it's near a town called Ushuaia. Close to the tip. The weather is not so good, I am told, but the isolation is worth every penny. Even thename is telling."

He told me the name of Cavello's ranch. Hearing it, I smiled. I knew his information was true.

"Now, I think you have something forme. " Remlikov put his sunglasses back on, our business complete.

Chapter 102

I TOOK OUT MY PHONE and pressed the Send button. Andie answered quickly.

"You can bring him now."

I tried not to glance in any direction. I didn't want to alert anyone, Remlikov or a possible accomplice, as to how this was going to take place. My hands were moist, and sweat trickled down my collar. There was nothing to do but wait, and stare at each other.

"So, who was it, if I can ask?"

"Who waswho? " I shrugged. I figured he was talking about Andie.

"Who was on that bus? The reason you want Cavello so bad?"

"Consider yourself lucky I don't kill you right here for what you've done."

"Interesting," he said, snorting."I was thinking the very same thing about you."

I saw him rub the tips of his fingers. I knew this killer wouldn't just let me get away. I looked around. I needed cover. A group of young people were passing by. I spotted two policemen, meandering our way.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw our white Ford pull up on Ben Gurion Street at one of the entrances to the park. Andie held there, just as I told her, waiting for my signal. I shot another glance at the policemen, my insurance.

"My son?" Remlikov pressed."The minute is up, no?"

Chapter 103

"I WANT YOU TO KNOW, Remlikov, if Cavello's not where you say he is, every law enforcement agency in the world is going to have your name and fingerprints. It's a hard way to raise a family."

"Andyou should know, if there's as much as a scratch on my son, I'll be looking through employment rosters of the FBI for as long as it takes."

I raised my left arm. The signal.

The rear door of the car opened. I saw the boy emerge. Andie would've been pointing him toward us. He shielded his eyes through the waning sun.

Remlikov waved at him."Pavel, over here!"

The boy started to run to him. The killer looked at me. Andie's car started up, then disappeared into traffic.

"I meant what I said, Remlikov. I wish I could shoot you dead," I said.

Then I cut around the statue-in front of the unsuspecting policemen. Without drawing any attention to myself, I started to jog, fast enough to put as much distance as I could between me and Remlikov.

I hunched into a stream of people heading for the upper terraces. The path was hilly and crowded. I didn't notice anyone following me.

I left the path and started up a small hill, using trees and low branches as cover. I spotted another exit down below. Allenby Street.

That's where I decided to head. Catch a cab. In minutes I'd meet Andie back at the hotel. We had what we needed. Within the hour, we'd be gone.

I never looked back until I'd zigzagged to the top of the knoll. When I did, Remlikov was kneeling with his arms held out. His son ran into his embrace. He peppered the boy's face with grateful kisses.

Then he looked up the hill in my direction. I didn't know if he could see me. Trees obstructed the view. But it felt like it.

For the first time in minutes, my heart rate finally started to calm. I had what I needed. Andie had gotten away safely. I knew where Cavello was.

I almost felt like cheering. We had pulled it off! We were winning this time.

Only then did I feel my neck roughly wrenched backward, and the knife blade digging deeply into my ribs.

"Sorry, mate, it doesn't quite work like that."

My blood froze.

"Now, I'm going to ask you this once," the voice said in a heavy South African accent,"and if you have any hope of living more than the next few seconds, you'll be telling me the answer. Who dropped off that kid?"

He dug the blade in deeper; the air gushed out of my lungs. I managed to get one look at him, and I knew I was in terrible trouble.

The hair that fell across his face was blond.

Chapter 104

THE TRUTH WAS, I'd been in the FBI thirteen years and had been in a real dogfight only a couple of times. Those were more like takedowns, and not with some professionally trained killer twice my size who had me gagging in a choke hold, with a knife jammed into my ribs.

The guy's grip had me helpless. I couldn't scream. What good would that do? I could barely think. The blade edged into my rib cage so sharply, I wasn't sure if it wasn't already in my chest.

"I can break your neck cleanly, friend, and all you'll do is drift off into la-la land, which I recommend as the way to go. Or, I can play with you a bit."

Oh, Christ!

"Do yourself a favor, mate. Who was the woman in that car?"

A thought came to me. It was from some self-defense course I'd taken at the Bureau years ago. The natural urge in this situation is to struggle harder, to pull away, but to someone who is adept at crushing your windpipe in a second, it only tightens the choke.

Stepinto him, I was told. Go with his momentum. So I figured, what the hell? I wasn't giving up Andie.

So I leaned my weight into Blondie. It threw him off, maybe a step. He didn't release me, just shuffled backward.

It freed my hand enough to reach inside my jacket. I groped for the grip of my Glock. I didn't know if I had it pointed toward him or me. Only that if I didn't fire quickly, it didn't much matter.

The blond killer sighed."Your choice, asshole."

I jerked the trigger.Once, twice! The recoil spun us both back, the closeness muffling the sound. I didn't know if I'd hit something. Or whether it was him or me. But I didn't feel the knife. Or pain shooting through my abdomen. I pulled the trigger two more times.

"Fuck!" The blond guy yelped and staggered backward.

I spun away just as he lashed out savagely with the knife. I rolled on my torso and saw a bloody hole in his thigh, red oozing through his ripped jeans.

"Oh, you are fucking dead!" He looked down, glaring at me with an animal fury.

I still held the gun pointed at him. But I wasn't sure what to do. Now there was nothing to muffle the sound. A group of people was headed toward us. I was an FBI agent, not a cold-blooded killer. But even as FBI, I was toast. I'd be explaining what I was doing here for the rest of my life. From an Israeli jail cell!

"Turn around," I yelled at him."Open your jacket."

The blond guy eyed the people coming toward us. He slowly opened his jacket."What are you going to do, mate? Shoot me?"

He had to be armed, but I didn't see a gun. Even worse, these people were coming closer and I was brandishing one. He didn't know who I was. He didn't know where Andie and I were staying. What hedid know was that if I hadn't already put a bullet through his head, with all these people coming close, I probably wasn't about to now.

"Start walking." I pointed the gun."Back down the hill. Walk!"

Chapter 105

BLONDIE OBLIGED ME, but slowly, angrily. He cast a cold eye at the approaching crowd, blood oozing from his thigh. I hadn't killed him, and he saw things were working to his advantage now. The asshole had me gauged perfectly.

"Tell Remlikov all bets are off if I don't find what I'm looking for." I started to back away.

There was an entrance to Ben Gurion Street maybe a hundred yards below. People were streaming through the gates by the dozens. I figured that in a crowd, even he wouldn't shoot. I could outrun him. All I had to do was make it that far.

I took off, darting through hedges and trees as cover. I glanced around to see him scamper up the knoll, remove a gun from the back of his jeans, then straighten into a shooter's crouch.

I didn't hear a sound, but a bullet whizzed past my ear, thudding into the trunk of a nearby tree.

He started after me.It was freaky. The guy had a.40-caliber bullet lodged in his thigh, and it wasn't stopping him a bit.

I was no longer backpedaling. I ran down to the entrance that led onto Ben Gurion, a busy thoroughfare, where I figured maybe I could lose him. All I had to do was find a cab and make it back to the hotel. That's all!

A boy and his girlfriend were just turning into the park. He was wearing sandals and a Linkin Park T-shirt, and had a guitar slung around his back. I heard something zing past my shoulder. Right in front of my face the kid wheeled around and hit the pavement, his shoulder exploding in red. His girlfriend put her hands up to her face and screamed.

"Get down! Get down!" people were shouting.

I stared in disbelief.

An innocent person was down. This was way, way out of control now. I knew I should've stopped and ended it there. Taken him down, waited for the cops, something logical and sane. There were screams and bedlam everywhere. I took a look back for the blond-haired killer.I had lost him! Policemen were running up to the scene from Ben Gurion. I didn't know what to do. I made a quick judgment that the kid would be all right.

I took off toward the square.

Concealing myself in the crowd, I tried to put as much distance as I could between me and my assailant. I was praying the police would corral him, but then I spotted him-his blond hair and darting eyes-racing along the perimeter wall, following my path. I pushed deeper into the crowd.

I hurried without a clear destination through the crowded streets, searching frantically for a cab. I could still get out of this. All I had to do was get back to the hotel. They had no idea who we were.

I found myself racing down a narrow street of bazaar merchants, angling away from the park. Hundreds of tiny stalls-leather jackets, embroidered shirts, baskets, spices-crowded with hawkers and tourists.

I zigzagged through the side-by-side stalls, switching sides of the street as I strained to see if he was still behind me. And hewas -knocking over racks, pushing people out of his way, gaining. Sirens were coming from the entrance to the park.

This madman wouldn't stop. I was on a crowded street with no cabs.You don't know where you're going, Nick! At some point I was going to have to stop and confront him. I should have shot him when I had the chance.

Two more rounds zinged by my head, slamming into a stall in front of me that was filled with colorful fabrics, toppling it over.

I ducked, picking up my pace. The end of the street was fast approaching. The problem was, I was going to get there quicker than I had a plan for where to go next. It opened to a terraced cul-de-sac, maybe twenty feet above a busy street below. I was trapped. Cold reality set in-Nick, you're going to have to fight this bastard.

I turned at the corner and just stood there, staring at my options: leaping into the crowded street below or facing him. I gripped my gun. I thought of Andie, the image she had lived with for the past year, the blond man hurrying away from the juror bus.

This was the man who had killed her son.

I stopped behind a stall at the end of the street. Maybe it wasn't Cavello, but this was the man who blew up the jury. I had no real plan. I wasn't a cop or a fugitive. Just someone whose adrenaline was racing. Someone who was about to make a stand.

The blond-haired killer finally staggered into the cul-de-sac.

"Put it down," I said, pointing my gun at him.

"Put it down?" He smirked, coming to a stop. He stared at me."I don't know who you were, but you're a dead man now, friend."

Chapter 106

HE STARTED TO RAISE his arm, and I jerked off two shots. Both hit home, tearing into his chest. He grabbed the top of a nearby stall, fabric falling all over him as it crashed down. He tried to get up. I saw him elevate his gun hand, frantically tearing garments off himself.

"You blew up that bus!" I screamed.

The blond killer hesitated. It took him by surprise. Then a smile creased his lips, as if he found all of this amusing."I did." He winked, trying to free his gun hand.“Boom!"

I hurled myself at him, smashing my fist into his face. He staggered backward into the railing. I held him by the shirt collar, out of control. I hit him again with everything I had in me. Teeth cracked, and blood spurted from his mouth. But he didn't go down.

"Well, here's a message." I flung him with all my might toward the railing."Boom your fucking self!"

The killer smashed against the edge, still trying to right his gun toward me, and toppled over, jerking a shot wildly into the air.

Like a dead weight, he landed on top of a parked car below.

I went over to the railing. People were screaming, running out of the way. I was exhausted, out of breath, gasping for air. For a second, I didn't care who saw me. I didn't care if I heard a police siren or if the cops found me.

Then I came to my senses. I couldn't believe what my eyes were seeing.

The crazy bastard opened his eyes. He looked up at me. He wouldn't die. Blood was matted in his hair and on his shirt. He rolled off the car and, with legs like jelly, staggered backward toward the street, somehow still in possession of his gun, arcing his arm upward.

Toward me!

I didn't move. I just stood there staring at him.“Die, you sonovabitch," I said.“Die!"

He crouched between two cars. I could see he was having trouble breathing. Then he quickly stepped out and aimed to shoot at me. There was a smirk on his face.

I heard the beep. And the chilling screech of brakes. It was sharp and penetrating, bone-rattling loud.

The killer spun. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. The look on his face was one of disbelief.

The bus careered into him, throwing him fifty feet into the street. His gun flew out of his hand and hit the pavement with a crack that sounded like a shot.

I heard screaming. I took a last look. He was just a crumpled, bloody mound.

This time I wasn't waiting around for another encore. When the crowd looked up, the balcony was empty.

Chapter 107

MINUTES LATER, I was knocking on the door of our hotel room."Andie, let me in!"

The door opened, and I almost fell through, collapsing into Andie's arms."God, Nick, I didn't know what to think," she said, throwing her arms around me. She stared at my bloodstained shirt, the black-and-blue marks on my neck.

"Nick!"

"I'm all right," I said."But we have to get out of herenow! "

I changed quickly. We dragged our bags downstairs and paid. In minutes we were weaving back through the streets, Andie driving, to the coastal highway, headed back toward Tel Aviv. We had a ten-o'clock flight out of there. I closed my eyes, leaned my head back on the headrest, and blew out an exhausted breath.

"You weren't supposed to stay." I turned my head and opened my eyes.

"What?"

"I said an hour. I was thirty minutes late. I told you to get out of there. You weren't supposed to stay."

Andie stared at me as if she'd misheard. Then a smile creased her lips." Braveheart was on the movie channel… I got caught up."

Andie took one hand off the wheel and briefly patted my arm."I told you I wasn't leaving you, Nick."

We drove a little longer, the lights of Haifa fading into the darkness. I felt as empty and exhausted as ever before in my life.

"Did we get it?" she finally asked.

I hesitated a little."Yeah, we got it." I smiled.

"So are we headed to Paris?"

"Stopover." I nodded.

"Then where?"

"Still love me?" I asked.

"You scared the hell out of me, Nick. I don't know what I'm feeling."

"You should have been in my shoes." I paused."No. Not really."

A smile edged across my lips. A wide one-triumphant. I couldn't believe we had pulled it off.

Then Andie was smiling, too."Yeah, I still love you," she said."So where? "

The end of the earth. Cavello had taunted me.Come and get me, Nicky Smiles.

That's what had made me laugh. Why I knew Remlikov had told me the truth-the name of Cavello's ranch: El Fin del Mundo. The End of the World.

" Patagonia," I told her.

" Patagonia ?" Andie looked at me."I'm not even sure I know where that is."

"Don't worry. I do."