The Protector

12

"We had a prearranged code, a signal to let each of us know the other was okay," Cavanaugh said. Apprehension made his veins feel swollen as he studied traffic behind them.

Jamie listened tensely as she drove.

"A joke about a Chinese restaurant and MSG. At the start of the conversation, we both said what we were supposed to. At the end, though, when I told John I was going to send him Chinese food, he was supposed to say, 'Don't bother. I've already got plans for dinner.' Instead, he complained about the MSG again."

"Did he give you information?" Jamie checked the rearview mirror.

"Yes. The location of Prescott's lab. We've got to assume it's a trap."

"Somebody forced him to do it."

"No question." Cavanaugh's hands sweated. "But John knew he wasn't betraying me-because he warned me by not supplying all of the code."

"Will whoever's holding him prisoner…"

"Kill him?" Cavanaugh felt his breath rate increasing. "Once the trap was set, they'd have no further use for him. But I managed to buy him some time."

"How?"

"I told him I'd call him again tomorrow. The same hour. The same number. With more questions. Whoever's got him will keep him alive for a while longer now-in case the trap doesn't work. So they have a way to stay in touch with me."

Jamie looked over at him, assessing. "I've got a lot to learn from you."

"Look, we need to talk." Cavanaugh peered down at his hands, working to keep them steady. "We always talk."

"Not about everything."

"Now here it comes. You're going to tell me this is getting too dangerous and you want me to go back to Wyoming, where I'll be safe. Don't bother. You opened the door on this. You invited me in, and I'm not leaving. I proved I can help. I proved I'm dependable, that I've got the right instincts and won't fall apart. If you want to keep this relationship, that's the price you pay. No more secrets. No more separations. Two years ago, I'd have been killed if not for you. I owe you, and, by God, I intend to pay you back."

"Agreed."

"What?"

"You don't owe me anything, but I won't argue with the rest of what you said. I'm not asking you to leave."

"Then…"

"I need to warn you about something."

"Warn me?"

"I told you something happened to me. In Karen's basement. In the fire."

Puzzled, Jamie waited for him to continue.

"I lost control."

"Anybody would have. You had a lot to deal with."

"No," Cavanaugh said. "Stress has always been second nature to me. It made me feel alive. Except…" His mouth felt dry. "Maybe now it doesn't."

Jamie looked at him more closely.

"For five years in Delta Force and another five with Protective Services, I thrived on action," Cavanaugh said. "Physical sensations most people find terrifying were a pleasure to me. I couldn't wait for my next hit of adrenaline. I loved the rush."

Cavanaugh worked to keep his breath rate under control.

"I once protected a Fortune Five Hundred executive who was a nicotine and caffeine junkie. He smoked two packs of unfil-tered cigarettes and drank fourteen cups of strong coffee each day. He called the cigarettes and coffee 'rocket fuel.' He said the speed they gave him made him think better and faster and clearer. He loved the high they gave him. One morning in Brussels, while I was standing watch outside his hotel suite, I heard a noise, as if something had fallen and broken. I had another protector working with me, so while he radioed for backup and kept guarding the corridor, I hurried into the suite, where I found the client on the floor. The noise I'd heard was a breakfast cart he'd upset when he fell." "Was he dead?"

Cavanaugh had the eerie feeling that with each sentence, he was speaking a little faster.

"At first, I thought he was. But then I saw he was blinking. His pupils were huge. I ran to the phone and called a doctor we had on retainer. Then I hurried back to the client. I didn't think he'd been poisoned-the threat he was afraid of was kidnapping, not assassination. But I had to ask him anyhow. 'Do you think you've been poisoned?' He thrashed his head no. 'Do you think you're having a heart attack?' I asked. Again he thrashed his head no. 'Stroke,' he said. 'Dizzy. Room's spinning. Floor's tilting.' I felt his pulse. A hundred and fifty. So then I knew what was wrong with him, although I waited for the doctor to tell me for sure." "And what was wrong with him?"

Cavanaugh felt throbbing at his temples. "A massive nicotine and caffeine overdose. He'd been supercharging himself for so many years that eventually his body reached a limit to the speed it could take. The doctor had to give him a downer and ordered him into a detox program." "Did the detox work?"

"It probably saved his life. But the damage had been done. His body had established its stress level. Thereafter, if he was even in the same room with someone who smoked, if he inhaled just a few puffs of secondhand smoke, he went into overdrive and nearly collapsed. If he had just a sip or two of someone else's coffee-decaffeinated, mind you, which is never totally decaffeinated-his heart started pounding like a jackhammer."

Jamie frowned. "Where are you heading with this?"

"Adrenaline." Cavanaugh's legs felt more jittery. "Right now, it's flying through me. Before I went to Karen's house, I'd have welcomed it. But now…" His mouth had become so dry, he had trouble speaking. "What I need to tell you, to warn you about… Whatever happened to me in Karen's basement…" He could hardly say it, would never have imagined that he'd say it. "Maybe I can't do this anymore."

Jamie didn't react for a moment. "Do you want to go back to Wyoming?"

"No. I… Yes." Cavanaugh said. "I want to go back to Wyoming."

Jamie looked surprised.

"I'm so confused"-the word surprised him-"so afraid of what's changing inside me, I want to go back to Jackson Hole and never leave. But if I give in and hide, I'll never be any good to you or me or anybody else. How can I pretend to be close to anyone if I let John die? He wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for me. If he gets killed…"

"We won't let that happen."

"That's right, by God. But I'm not sure how you're going to feel being around someone who shows signs of fear."

"Signs of being human, you mean?"

"I'll try to be as dependable as you've been." Cavanaugh breathed deeply, working to concentrate on what needed to be done. "Is anybody following us?"

Jamie checked the rearview mirror. "Traffic looks normal."

"Head over to the park where I met John this morning."

"What's at-"

"I phoned him at his condo. His wife died last year. He lives alone. That's where they held a gun to him when he talked to me. That's the logical spot for him to be held prisoner."