Last Man Standing

51

Claire jerked up from a deep sleep that she had fallen into from exhaustion and despite her terror. She felt the fingers against her skin and she was about to strike out at her attacker when the voice made her stop.

“It’s just me, Claire,” said Kevin as he lifted off her blindfold.

There was no light, so Claire had to let her eyes adjust to the darkness. She looked down at Kevin, who was sitting next to her, his hands around the cuffs that held her to the wall.

“I thought you were tied up too.”

He smiled and held up a small bit of metal. “I was. But I took this off one of the markers they give me to draw with. Picked the lock. I’m good with my hands.”

“I can see that.”

“Give me just one more minute and I get you loose too.”

In less time than that, Kevin had her free. She rubbed her wrists and sat up, looked around and eyed the door. “I take it the door’s locked?”

“Always has been. Maybe not now, if they think we chained up.”

“Good point.” She stood, taking a moment to get her balance after being off her feet for so long, a condition that was compounded by the darkness. She looked around again. “Anything we can use for a weapon, in case someone’s on the other side of that door?” she whispered.

Kevin went over to the cot, turned it over on its side and un-screwed two of the metal legs. He kept one and handed the other to Claire.

“You hit ’em high and I hit ’em low,” he said.

Claire nodded, without a lot of confidence, though. She wasn’t sure she could hit anybody.

Kevin seemed to sense her trepidation, because he added, “We only hit ’em if they trying to hurt us, right?”

“Right,” said Claire a lot more firmly.

They inched over to the door and tried it. It was locked. They listened intently for a bit yet could hear no one on the other side, even though the machinelike sounds were not as loud now. “I guess we’re not getting out of here until they want us to,” said Claire.

Kevin eyed the door and stepped back. “I ain’t never noticed that before.”

“What?”

“That the door hinges are on the inside.”

Claire looked hopeful, but only for an instant. “But we’d need a screwdriver and hammer to get them out.”

“Well, we got the hammer.” He held up the metal table leg. “And right here is the screwdriver.”

He went over to where the cuffs that had held Claire were attached to a bolt in the wall. With Claire’s help, they finally managed to unscrew the bolt from the wall and Kevin slid off the cuffs. He held up one of the cuffs. “It got an nice edge to it, like a screwdriver.”

“Good thinking again, Kevin,” said Claire with considerable admiration. Here she was, feeling totally helpless, and Kevin was pulling one miracle after another out of his hat.

It took them some time and they kept stopping and listening for anyone coming, but the hinge pins finally came out. They were able to pry open the door and step through. It was dark here too, and they stumbled along, touching the walls of the narrow corridor for guidance. The smell of chlorine was very strong now. They were confronted with another locked door that Kevin was able to pick with his pen clasp. They encountered yet another door that, thankfully, was unlocked.

Claire took in a long breath, as did Kevin. He smiled at her. “Feels good to finally be outside.

“Well, let’s get going before they come and lock us back up.” They moved past the covered pool, crept through the bushes and then down a winding grass path. As they neared the end of the path, Claire could see a building far up ahead. It was the mansion. She had glimpsed it on her visit. They were at East Winds Farm!

“Omigod,” she exclaimed.

“Shhh,” said Kevin.

She whispered into his ear, “I know where we are. I have friends who are here, we just have to get to them.” The problem was that, in the darkness, it was hard to tell in which direction was the house that Web and Romano were using, even with the mansion as a marker.

“If they at the place where we been locked up, how you know they really your friends?”

“I just know. Come on.” She took his hand and they made their way in what Claire thought was the direction of the carriage house. Long before they could reach it, however, both stiffened when they heard a vehicle coming. They ran back into the bushes and peered out. Claire’s spirits plummeted. It was a truck, not the Mach or Romano’s Corvette. She gasped when the truck pulled to a stop and several men with guns climbed out. Their escape had apparently been detected. She and Kevin ran deeper into the woods, such that Claire totally lost her bearings.

They finally stopped, caught their breath. Kevin looked around. “I ain’t never seen so many trees in one place. Can’t tell which way’s out.”

Claire breathed deeply, attempting to get her lungs and her nerves under control. She nodded. “I know.” She studied the lay of the unfamiliar land and was attempting to make a decision on which direction they should go when they heard footsteps. Claire pulled Kevin to her and they squatted low in the underbrush.

The person was on the path and walked right past them, obviously unaware of Claire’s and Kevin’s presence. Claire peeked out. She didn’t know Gwen Canfield and thus had no idea why a woman in a long red dress was walking barefoot through thick woods at this hour. Claire thought about calling out to her but finally decided against it. She had no idea who their captors were. This woman could be part of that group.

Once Gwen was out of sight, Claire and Kevin started moving again. They came to a darkened house, but that had a truck parked out front. Claire was debating whether to try and slip inside the place and use the phone to call the police when a man charged out of the house, jumped in his truck and roared off.

“I think that person just found out we got loose,” she whispered to Kevin. “Come on.”

They ran to the house. Claire had noted that in his haste the man had left the door open. They were about to go inside when they heard a sound that made Claire’s stomach lurch.

“He’s coming back,” cried out Kevin. They raced back into the woods even as the truck bore down on them.

Pushing their way through the thick undergrowth, Claire quickly lost her shoes, and her and Kevin’s clothes were being shredded by thorny vines and hard branches. They reached an open bit of ground, paused to catch their breath but took off running again when they heard the sounds of feet crashing through the underbrush.

They raced through to an open space and Claire saw a building loom up out of the darkness.

“Quick,” she said to Kevin, “in there.”

They climbed up on a loading dock and entered the Monkey House through a hole in the wall. Claire and Kevin looked around at the ruined insides of the place. Claire shivered when she observed the rusted cages. Kevin held his nose.

“Damn, it stinks in here,” he said.

The sounds of men, and now the baying of dogs, were growing closer. “Over there,” Claire said frantically. She climbed onto a box, boosted Kevin up and into a hole in the wall that probably once housed a ventilator fan. “Stay down and keep quiet,” she told him.

“Where you going?”

“Not far,” she said. “But if they find me, don’t come out; whatever they say they’ll do to me, don’t come out. Do you understand?”

Kevin nodded slowly. “Claire,” he said. She turned back. “Please be careful.”

She smiled weakly, squeezed his hand and climbed back down. She looked around for a moment and then crept out through a gash in the rear wall. Once she was outside, the sounds of the dogs was even more terrifying. They must have given the animals something with her and Kevin’s scent on it. She tore off a bit of her dress, grabbed a small rock, tied it inside the strip of material and threw it as far away from the Monkey House as she could. Then she ran off in the opposite direction. She reached the woods again, slid down an embankment and halted at the bottom. She looked around, trying to gauge the direction the sounds of men and dogs were coming from. Unfortunately, because of the topography, the noises were echoing all around. She forded a small creek, falling down halfway across and soaking herself. She struggled up and managed to scale a small embankment on the other side, then found herself on flat land. She was so tired now, part of her just wanted to lie here and wait for them to find her. Yet Claire pushed herself up and ran. When she reached another steep climb, she gripped a sapling and used it to thrust herself up. At the top she surveyed the land. Off in the distance she saw a light, and then another and another, all in pairs. A road. She took several deep breaths and took off at a steady jog. Her feet were torn and bleeding, but she didn’t allow the pain to slow her down. She had to get help. She had to get help for Kevin.

The sounds of the men and dogs were gone now and she allowed herself the small hope that she might actually manage to succeed in escaping. She crawled the last few feet to the road and sat in the ditch for a moment, the tears spilling from her, partly from exhaustion, fear and having gained her freedom. She heard a car coming, stood and ran into the road, waving her arms and screaming for help.

At first it didn’t appear the vehicle was going to stop at all. And Claire realized that she must look like some lunatic. But the vehicle finally slowed and then stopped. She ran to the passenger door and pulled it open. Her first sight was of Kevin sitting in the front seat, his mouth gagged, his arms and legs bound. The second sight was of Nemo Strait pointing a gun at her.

“Hey, Doc,” he said. “You need a ride?”

He stretched his long body and then involuntarily shivered. The night had been a little cool and the dampness seemed to have settled into him. He wrapped the blanket tighter around him.

Francis Westbrook was not accustomed to camping out. What he was doing was about as close to camping as he was probably ever going to get, and he was not enjoying it. He drank some water and then edged his head out from his hiding place. The sun would be rising soon, he gauged. He hadn’t slept particularly well; hell, he hadn’t really slept since Kevin had disappeared. One lousy phone call, that was all he had been given. He had met with London, like they had told him to, and filled him in on the tunnels, again like they had told him to. He had undertaken a little unfinished business along the way with Toona, sure. Contrary to what Westbrook had told Web, he could abide skimmers and even those who used the product because if you didn’t you wouldn’t have anyone willing to come to work for you in the drug trade, it was as simple as that. But what he would never tolerate was a snitch. Macy had tipped him off to what Toona was doing and he had checked it out himself and found out Macy had been correct. So Toona was, appropriately enough, fish food. Sometimes life was fair, he thought.

Through the street grapevine he had learned that Peebles had been killed. The boy just didn’t have what it took. But Westbrook had also learned, albeit too late, that Peebles had been orchestrating a takeover of his crew and consolidation of other crews in the area. That one had caught him off guard. He hadn’t thought that old Twan had that in him. Macy had simply disappeared. That disloyalty had really ticked him off. Westbrook shrugged. Served him right for putting any trust in a white boy.

Now whoever had killed Twan might be gunning for him. Westbrook would just have to lie low and rely only upon himself until things worked out. Relying only on himself—it was just like old times. He had a couple of pistols, a few mags of ammo, about a thousand dollars in his pocket. He had abandoned the Navigator when he had come here, and the cops were still looking for him. Well, let them look. He had seen the Feds patrolling the place, but he had spent enough time dodging the cops to know how to hide even his very large carcass so that he blended right in with where he was. He had seen some strange things going on here. And he had heard the sounds of dogs barking off in the distance. The dogs were bad news. He had hunkered down farther into his hiding place and pulled over him a blanket he had covered with branches and leaves until the sounds had receded. As best as he could figure, London was still close by, and if London thought this place was important, then Westbrook did too. He checked his gun and settled back, took another drink of water, listened to the crickets and wondered what the new day would bring. Maybe it would bring Kevin.

Ed O’Bannon paced around the small, bare space. He hadn’t smoked in years, yet he had gone through almost a pack in the last two hours. Discovery was something that he had always contemplated, but as time went on and things went smoothly, his fears had receded, even as his bank account had swollen. He heard someone coming and turned to the door. It was locked, and thus he was surprised when he heard the knob turning. O’Bannon backed away. When the man came in, he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Long time no see, Doc.”

O’Bannon put out his hand and Nemo Strait shook it.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to make it, Nemo.”

“When have I ever let you down?”

“I’ve got to get going. The Feds are bottling the country up.” “Don’t get yourself all bent out of shape. We got lots of ways for you to go and the planes, papers and the people to get you there.” Strait held up a packet of documents. “Through Mexico to Rio and then on to Johannesburg. From there you got your option of Australia, New Zealand, lots of fugitives go there. Or maybe hit our old stomping grounds in Southeast Asia.”

O’Bannon eyed the packet and breathed another sigh of relief. He smiled and lit another cigarette. “That seems like a hundred years ago.”

“Hey, I’ll never forget. You saved my ass after the Viet Cong screwed with my mind.”

“Deprogramming, not so difficult for someone who knows what he’s doing.”

“Lucky for me you did,” said Strait. He paused and grinned.

“And catching a little drug action on the side. That was a nice little side benefit for your practice.”

O’Bannon shrugged. “Everyone was doing that back then.”

“Hell, yes, they were, myself included, though it was just for my personal use.”

“I have to hand it to you, when you looked me up with your idea of bugging my offices and selling the information on the streets, that was pure genius.”

Strait grinned. “Well, the Feds got all these resources, we had to level the playing field a little bit. But it was a win-win. You got the info, I got folks who need that stuff to conduct their business, myself included. You make money, I make money and the Feds get the short end of the stick. What could be better?”

When Gwen had brought Strait in on her plan to exact revenge on the people involved with her son’s death, he had started investigating both Hostage Rescue and Web London. Growing up on a horse farm just made a person methodical like that, Strait had long ago realized. You got all the information you could, formed a plan and executed that plan. Until he had been captured by the Viet Cong, Strait had been an excellent soldier, leading his company in and out of many hellish situations, and he had a chest full of medals to prove it, not that that had ever mattered to him. Then he discovered that the Ed O’Bannon he had known in Vietnam was the same O’Bannon treating Web London. That had given him the idea to both set up London and HRT because he knew firsthand what Ed O’Bannon could do with someone’s mind. Initially, however, O’Bannon wanted no part of it. But when Strait had learned how many law enforcement people he had as patients, he had approached O’Bannon again and repeated his offer to bug the premises, sell the information to criminals and split the proceeds fifty-fifty with the good doctor. With that inducement O’Bannon had signed on immediately. The passage of years had not lessened the man’s greed. Some of the bugged psychiatrist sessions had also provided Strait with all the information he needed to set up HRT. He had never told O’Bannon about his Oxycontin drug trade because the man no doubt would’ve wanted a cut of that too. And now Strait already had a partner in Gwen Canfield. Twenty-five percent, damn! But he had to admit, last night had been worth it.

Nemo said, “I was one surprised pup when you brought Claire Daniels to us. Although I guess I shouldn’t have been. When you told me London was seeing her, I knew it’d be a problem down the road.”

“I tried to get him to stay with me. But like I said, I couldn’t push too hard without raising suspicions. I kept most of his file from her, of course. And you were the only ones I could turn to.”

“You did the right thing. I can guarantee you this: She’ll never testify against you in court.”

O’Bannon shook his head. “It’s hard to believe it’s over.”

“Well, we had us one sweet operation going.”

“‘Had’ is right,” O’Bannon said mournfully.

“I guess you got no love for our federal government either.” “After what I saw in Vietnam? No. And working for the Bureau in-house didn’t do much to change that opinion.”

“Well, I’m betting you got you a nice little nest egg to last you the rest of your days.”

O’Bannon nodded. “I’ve been smart about it. Now I just hope I get to enjoy it.”

“I want to thank you, Doc, for all your help. You did London perfect.”

“With his background, believe me, he was an easy case. Didn’t even need any drugs.” He smiled. “The man trusted me. What does that say for the mighty FBI?”

Strait yawned and rubbed at his eyes.

“Late night?” asked O’Bannon.

“You could say that. Sort of burning the candle at both ends and in the middle too.”

There was a quiet knock at the door.

Strait said, “Come on in.” He looked at O’Bannon. “Here’s your ride. This is my best guy. He’ll take care of everything.”

Clyde Macy walked in and stared first at O’Bannon and then at Strait.

“I go way back with this boy. Showed him the error of his ways, I guess, ain’t that right?”

Macy said, “The old man I never had.”

Strait laughed. “You got that right. If you can believe it, this boy infiltrated a black drug crew in D.C. Set ’em up to take the heat for what we did. One of ’em, dude named Antoine Peebles, was trying to take over this fellow Westbrook’s turf. So Mace played along with this little plan, Peebles helped us when we needed it, and then Mace killed Peebles.”

O’Bannon looked puzzled. “Why’d you do that?”

“Because I wanted to,” said Macy, his remorseless eyes dead on O’Bannon. “It was a mission I put together for myself. And I successfully completed it.”

Strait chuckled. “Then he made sure HRT and the Free Society shot it out. The man is invaluable. Okay, Mace, this is Ed O’Bannon, the friend I told you about.” He handed O’Bannon the documents and slapped him on the shoulder and shook his hand.

“I meant what I said, Doc, you did right by us. Thanks again, and you make yourself one fun-loving fugitive from justice.”

Strait turned and left. As he closed the door behind him, he heard the first muffled shot and then one more. Damn, that Macy was efficient. He’d taught the boy real well. He did have some faults, though. Macy’s competition thing with the FBI was sometimes inconvenient. One of the concessions he had made to keep the boy happy had been pretty risky, but all in all Strait could not have pulled this off without Clyde Macy.

Strait had nothing against Ed O’Bannon, but loose ends were loose ends. And Nemo Strait didn’t trust Ed O’Bannon or anyone else. Okay, one problem down, now just two more to go: Kevin Westbrook and Claire Daniels. They had escaped once, but they wouldn’t have a chance to do it again. And then it was time to call it a career. The Greek islands were sounding better and better. Not bad for a boy who had grown up dirt poor and who had lived by his wits ever since. America was the land of opportunity indeed.

As he got in his truck, Nemo Strait wondered if there were any horse farms in Greece. He hoped not.

In the carriage house Web opened his eyes and looked around. He didn’t hear Romano stirring, and when he glanced at his watch he knew why. It was not yet six. He got up, opened the window and inhaled an early morning breeze. He had slept unusually heavily.

He would be gone from here soon and part of him was glad about that and part of him wasn’t.

What he was thinking about mostly, though, was Claire. His experience told him that there was very little chance that the woman was still alive. It was numbing, the thought of never seeing her again.

As he continued to gaze outside, he saw Gwen driving down the road from the mansion in a Jeep with its top off. She pulled into the cobblestone courtyard in front of the carriage house and got out. She was dressed to ride in jeans, boots and a sweater; her long hair gracefully framed her face. She wore no hat.

As she walked to the door, he called out. “Rent check’s in the mail, call off the eviction.”

She looked up, smiled and waved. “I thought we might go for one last ride.” She looked at the lightening sky. “By the time we saddle up, it’ll be the best time of the day to cruise the trails. You with me, Mr. London?” She flashed a smile that seemed to push away just about every concern Web had.

They saddled their mounts, Gwen on Baron and Web on a smaller roan horse named Comet. Gwen explained that Boo had an infected leg.

“Hope the big fellow will be all right.”

“Not to worry, horses are very resilient,” answered Gwen.

They covered a good deal of ground over about an hour and a half, and as they rode along all Gwen could think was that she had never killed anyone before. Yes, she had bluffed Nemo Strait the night before, but when it came down to it, could she do it? She looked at Web riding next to her and tried her best to cast him in the form of her worst enemy, her most terrifying nightmare. Yet it was difficult to do. For years she had dreamed about killing each and every member of this so-called heroic band of federal agents whom everyone had assured here were the best there was. That they would get her son and all the other hostages out alive; that was what they had drilled into her, until Gwen’s fears had receded and her expectations had soared. It was like being told you had cancer but that it was absolutely curable, and you believed this until they closed your coffin and put you in the ground. Well, they had almost accomplished their goal of rescuing every hostage, allowing only her son to perish. And then she had watched, seething, as Web London’s face graced newspaper, magazines, TV shows, his heroic deeds outlined in nauseating detail, ending with a medal given to him personally by the President himself. She could not think of his horrible injuries. She did not know of the grueling ordeals he had endured as he fought his way back on to HRT. Not that any of that would have mattered to her. All she could think of was that Web was alive and her son was dead. Some hero.

Yes, the sight of her son lying dead next to Web London had popped something in her brain. She could actually remember the crackle that seemed to go through every nerve in her body, like lightning had struck; and she had never been the same since. She had never had a day since when she did not see the bloody body of her son lying there on the ground. Nor could she ever forget the image of men in battle gear going in to rescue her son and somehow managing to bring everyone out alive except him. She looked back at Web and he slowly took on hues of black, of evil. He was the last man. Yes, she could kill him. And maybe her nightmare would finally be over.

“I suppose you and Romano will be leaving today?”

“Looks that way.”

Gwen smiled and flicked at her hair. She kept a tight grip on her reins, for she felt her hand might start shaking. “Your good work done?”

“Something like that. How’s Billy?”

“All right. He goes through moods, like we all do.”

“You don’t strike me as moody. You seem the type to roll with the punches.”

“You’d be surprised sometimes.”

“That was some party last night.”

“Billy can really throw them. The Ransome brothers were not exactly what I expected.”

“You don’t believe that’s their real name, do you?”

“Not for a second.”

“When I first met them I thought they were gay. That is, until you walked into the room, and then their sexual orientation became pretty clear.”

Gwen laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

They rode past the opening to the small glen where Gwen’s chapel was.

“Aren’t you going to the chapel today?”

“Not today.” Gwen looked away from the opening in the trees. Today was not a day for prayer. While Web wasn’t looking, though, she crossed herself. Forgive me, God, for what I am about to do. Even as she silently mouthed the words, she never really expected that prayer to be answered.

They reached a steep slope of earth that at the top was covered with trees. She had never taken Web this way before. Perhaps in the back of her mind she had known this day would come.

Gwen whipped up Baron and charged toward the slope, Web and Comet right on their heels. They galloped up the slope, Web almost nosing ahead of Gwen. When they got to the top, they stopped their mounts and gazed out over the countryside while the horses sucked in huge amounts of air.

Gwen looked at Web with genuine admiration. “I’m impressed.”

“Hey, I had a great teacher.”

“The watchtower is close by. The view’s even better from there.” Web didn’t tell her he’d already been up there with Romano when they had checked out the Ransomes’ spread. “Sounds good.”

They rode to the tower, tethered the horses to a wooden post and let them graze. Gwen led Web up to the top of the tower and they watched the sun rising and the woods coming to life down below.

“I guess it doesn’t get much better than this,” said Web.

“You’d think not,” said Gwen.

He leaned against the belly-high wall and looked at her.

“Problems with you and Billy?”

“It’s that obvious?”

“I’ve seen worse.”

“Have you? What if I told you that you have no damn idea what you’re talking about?” she said with sudden anger.

Web’s tone remained calm. “You know, we’ve never really done that. Talked.”

She avoided his gaze. “Actually, I’ve talked to you more than I do to most people. And I barely know you.”

“Chitchat, maybe. And I’m not that hard to get to know.”

“I’m not totally comfortable with you yet, Web.”

“Well, we’re running out of time. I don’t think our worlds will come together again. But I guess that’s a good thing.”

“I suppose,” she said. “I’m not sure Billy and I will be at East Winds much longer.”

Web looked surprised. “I thought this was it for you two. Why go anywhere else? You may have your problems, but you’re happy here. Aren’t you? This is the life you wanted, right?”

She spoke slowly. “There’s a lot of factors that go into the equation of happiness. Some are more apparent than others.”

“I guess I can’t help you there. I’m not an expert on happiness, Gwen.”

She shot him a curious glance. “Neither am I.” They stared at each other awkwardly for a long moment.

“Well, you deserve to be happy, Gwen.”

“Why?” she asked quickly. For some reason, she actually wanted to hear his reasoning.

“Because you’ve suffered so much. It’s only fair—that is, if anything in this life is fair.”

“Have you suffered?” There was a harsh bite to her words, but she covered it quickly with a sympathetic expression. She wanted to hear that he had. But it couldn’t come close to what she had endured.

“I’ve had my share of bad times. My childhood wasn’t exactly the American dream. And my adulthood hasn’t really made up for that.”

“I always wondered why people do what you do. The good guys.” She said this with a completely straight face.

“I do the things I do because they need doing and most people can’t or won’t do them. I’d much prefer that my occupation become obsolete, but I just don’t see that happening.” He looked down. “I never had a chance to tell you this, but I might not get another one.” He drew in a long breath. “What happened in Richmond, that was about my first time as an assaulter, the guys who go in and get the hostages.” He paused again. “After Waco the FBI was really spooked and got ultraconservative in those situations. I’m not saying that that was right or wrong, just that it was different. We wait around for the negotiators listening to all the lies on the phone. It seemed like it always took someone dying before they let us do what we do, and by then we were always playing catch-up. But those were the new rules and we had to play by them.” He shook his head. “I knew something was up when the Frees broke off negotiations. I could feel it. I’d been a sniper for a lot of years, and watching things unfold all that time, you get a sixth sense for what’s coming. You just do.” He looked at Gwen. “I’ve never told you about this. Do you want to hear it?”

“Yes.” Gwen said this so fast, she had no time to even think about it.

“Billy knows some of it. When he came to see me in the hospital.”

“I’m sorry I never was able to.”

“I didn’t expect you to. I was stunned to see Billy, actually.” Web seemed to take a few moments to compose his thoughts. While he did so, Gwen stared out at the foothills of the Blue Ridge in the distance. Now that she thought about it, she really didn’t want to hear this, but she couldn’t tell him no.

Web said, “We got to the gymnasium entrance clean. I looked through the window. Your son saw me. We made eye contact.”

This clearly surprised her. “I didn’t know that.”

“Well, I never told anyone before, not even Billy. The time never seemed right.”

“What did he look like?” she said slowly. Her pulse was pounding in her ears as she waited for his answer.

“He looked scared, Gwen. But he also looked stubborn, defiant. Not an easy thing when you’re ten years old and facing a bunch of psychos with guns. I guess now I see where David got that spirit.”

“Go on,” she said in a small voice.

“I motioned to him to keep calm. I gave him the thumbs-up because I wanted him to stay cool. If he got spooked and reacted or something, they probably would have shot him instantly.”

“Did he?”

Web nodded. “He was smart. He knew what I was trying to do. He was right with me, Gwen. With all that stuff going down, he was as brave as anyone could be.”

Gwen could see that there were tears in his eyes. She tried to say something but found she couldn’t speak. The terrible years of her life started to seem erased by his words.

“We were about to go in. Quiet, no explosive. We’d seen through the window where each of the Frees was positioned. We were just going to pop them all at once. We got our countdown and then it happened.”

“What? What happened?”

“A sound from inside. It was like a damn bird or whistle, or alarm or something. It was loud, high-pitched and it couldn’t have come at a worse time. The Frees were instantly on alert and when we came through the door, they opened fire. I don’t know why they shot David, but he was the first to go down.”

Gwen wasn’t looking at Web now. Her gaze seemed frozen on the hills. A whistle?

“I saw the shot hit him.” Web’s voice was now very shaky. “I saw his face. His eyes.” Web closed his and the tears dribbled out from under the lids. “They were still looking at me.”

Gwen’s eyes were filled with tears now too, yet she still wasn’t looking at Web. “What did he look like then?”

He turned and stared at her. “He looked betrayed,” Web said. He touched his damaged face. “My face, and the two bullet holes I have in my body, none of it hurt me more than the look on your son’s face.” He said again, “Betrayed.”

Gwen was trembling so badly now that she had to support herself against the railing as the tears poured from her. Still, she couldn’t look at him. A whistle.

“Maybe that’s why I disobeyed orders when I joined the attack on the Frees.” He stared at her. “It cost me my career, Gwen, I’ve been kicked out of the Bureau for it. But I’d do it again. Maybe it was my way of atoning for things. See, your son deserved better than I could give him. I live with that every day. And I’m sorry that I let him and you down. I don’t expect forgiveness, but I just wanted you to know.”

She said quietly, “We probably should get back.”

Gwen went down first and walked over to Comet instead of Baron. She lifted the horse’s foreleg. Every nerve in Gwen’s body was now on fire, her pulse still banging in her ears. She could barely stand, but she had to do this, despite all that had just been revealed, she had to do this. She had waited long enough. She closed her eyes and then reopened them.

“Is there a problem?” asked Web.

She couldn’t look at the man. “It seemed like he was a bit off in front. But it looks all right. I’ll have to keep an eye on it.”

She reached up and patted Comet’s neck, and while Web wasn’t looking she slipped the object she held in her hand under the saddle.

“Okay, now this is your big test,” she said. “We’re going to gallop hard down that slope toward those trees, but then you have to rein in the horse quickly because the path through the trees is too narrow to do much more than a walk. Understand?”

“I’m game.” Web patted Comet’s neck.

“I’m sure you are. Let’s ride,” she said with finality.

They both swung into the saddle and started toward the trees.

“You want to lead?” asked Web as he settled into the saddle.

“You go ahead. I want to watch Comet’s leg—”

The horse bolted and Web wasn’t ready for it. Comet accelerated and headed at full gallop down the slope and straight for the thick trees.

“Web!” screamed Gwen, and she rode after him, but she was subtly reining Baron in and was falling behind. As she watched, Web lost a stirrup and then almost fell off. The reins dropped from his hands and he clutched the saddle horn in desperation even as the ground between him and trees was closing fast. He didn’t know it, but every bounce in the saddle was driving the small tack Gwen had placed under the saddle further into the horse’s body.

Web never looked back. But if he had, he would have seen a woman suddenly in terrible conflict. Gwen Canfield wanted so desperately to see horse and rider slam into those trees. She wanted to see Web London die right in front of her, to be vanquished forever. She wanted to be released from the pain that had tormented her for so long. She just couldn’t endure it anymore. She was beyond her limit. Something had to give. All she had to do was sit back. Instead she whipped up Baron and thundered after Web. Fifty feet separated Web from those trees, and Comet was living up to his name. At forty feet, Gwen slipped a little to the side of her horse. At thirty feet she started reaching out, poising her hand at just the right angle. They were twenty feet from the trees and now Gwen had thrown her fate in with Web’s, for if she couldn’t stop Comet, she and Baron would be hitting those trees too.

At ten feet she managed to lean far enough over to grab the reins. And she pulled with a strength that came from all the agony bottled up inside her for all those years, for she almost single-handedly pulled down a thousand-pound horse going at break-neck speed barely five feet from the tree line.

Breathless, she looked over at Web, who just sat there, slumped over. He finally glanced at her but still said nothing. And yet Gwen felt like the load of the collective misery of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. She had long envisioned it as akin to barnacles against her soul, impossible to remove; and yet now it had disappeared like sand in a breeze. And she marveled that finally letting go of all the hate could actually feel this wonderful. Yet the cruelty of life had not finished with her, because now Gwen’s hate had been replaced with something even more corrosive: guilt.