“Excellent. You would not believe the plans FarjAd and Zarsa have made! I think they have pulled apart the seams of the world and resewn them four different times since they met! Zarsa believes she can use her Gift to help FarjAd survive any future attacks. And he thinks having a woman of her ability and family support will bring even more people to his movement. And you?”
“So far, so good. But I have another favor to ask: We need your wheels one last time.” I explained our mission and my plan as well as I could in ten seconds.
“I will be right there,” he said. I had to give Asha his pats. When he finally decided to step back into the ring, he did it with both feet.
We all escorted Dave to the living room to wait with Jet for Asha. Cassandra would stay with them too until they left, at which time she’d go back to Grace. The Amazon was definitely getting the short end of the stick on this one. But considering Dave had just died — again — I wasn’t wasting any sympathy on her.
“I’ll be okay,” Dave kept insisting as one by one we asked him if we could get him anything before we left. It just felt wrong to go. We should be celebrating. We should be bouncing off the ceilings, for chrissake! And instead we were deserting the man whose resurrection we had all hoped and prayed for. Not only that. We were allowing him to step back into a life-or-death situation. Despite the fact that we all knew none of us had any other choice, it sucked.
One thing I could do.
Raoul? You are keeping some sort of watch, right? Over him? Over E.J.?
THEY ARE WELL PROTECTED.
And that would have to do for now. I patted Dave as we finally ran out of excuses not to go. “Be careful, please. If I have to bring you back to life again, Raoul’s going to want something major, like a virgin sacrifice. And I need Bergman too badly to give him up at this point.”
Dave laughed, as he was meant to. It brought a whole new meaning to the phrase “music to my ears.” Then, so suddenly it took my breath away, he swung me into a bear hug, lifting me until my toes barely touched the floor. “I love you,” he said. “And about Jessie? I understand. And I forgive you.”
I stood back in his arms. Grateful for his words. Certain they came from his heart. But also sure that heart was no longer as comfortable as it once was. I could see it in his eyes. In the way he looked at his men and then quickly at his fists, so they wouldn’t catch the flicker of rage. Not at them. At himself, for consorting with their enemy. For endangering their lives and their country. It didn’t make sense. Maybe it never would. But I understood. He’d only begun to deal with the realities of what he’d done. And even though he hadn’t been responsible, he was still the boss. So he
felt
like he was. Maybe we could talk it through. Later. Right now — it was time to finish the mission.
Chapter Thirty-Two
T
he Wizard headquartered in the northern part of the city, where the mountains loomed over the rooftops like angry gods. I eyed his house through the rolled-down window of the TV van, charmed by the visual despite knowing its contents. The three-story confection reminded me of a miniature Taj Mahal, a bright white masterpiece complete with turrets and five separate domed roofs. It stood surrounded by a large well-lit yard, securely fenced by a six-foot wall of mauve-tinted concrete. Not a very nondescript home in which to hide the King of Chaos. However the Wizard was also Delir Kazimi, a well-known businessman and community leader. Popular due to his generous contributions to charity. For him the mini mansion, his home away from his Saudi headquarters, fit.
However, its designers had clearly put security first. Cameras perched on the corners of the fence and on strategic points of the house itself. Only one gate allowed access from the front, and that crossed a cement driveway. This led me to assume pedestrian visitors were not welcome at Chez Wiz. While that gate wasn’t manned, it was guarded by an intimidating-looking digital lock whose keypad required you to put your hand entirely inside a metal box. I imagined if your fingerprints didn’t match the scan a small blade came down and chopped it right off.
As I took a turn around the block my specs notified me of an incoming call. It was Jet.
“Everything’s secure here,” he said.
“How’s Dave?”
“About like you’d expect.”
I took that as a tired-but-functioning and decided to be satisfied. “Okay. We’ll call when we’re ready for you.” I broke contact.
As I approached the front of the place again, I reviewed the conversation we’d had on the way to the Wizard’s backup stronghold, looking for holes in our admittedly flimsy and alarmingly last-minute plan.
“Jasmine and I will go in alone,” Vayl had said as I drove, following the pull of the Wizard’s scent, taking as straight a route as I could manage without actually mowing through yards and parks.
“Vayl’s got a way of moving unnoticed that even you guys can’t match,” Bergman had explained. He’d taken one of the four available chairs, with Cole, Cam, and Natchez filling the other three. If they’d pulled them up to the banks of monitors and electronic controls that lined the walls of the van, they could’ve covered the summer Olympics. As it was they simply belted in and made sure their weapons were ready to fire.
“Fine,” said Cam, twirling in his chair so he could see Vayl better. “What’s our role?”
“Bait,” he said frankly. I glanced in the rearview to see how Bergman would take this morsel. Looked to me like he was forcing himself to chew, fighting his ingrained urge to regurge.
Well, what do you know? He really meant it when he said he was tired of being a wuss
.
As I reworked my perspective of him to include some newfound respect, Vayl went on. “Jasmine and I are betting the Wizard will not be able to resist the lure of this TV truck since he just received an anonymous tip — thanks to Bergman — that Edward Samos has taken control of the station and has sent reavers to initiate the coup Jasmine mentioned to David just after we entered the country. He will send his guards to take it out. It will be up to you four to make sure that does not happen.”
“Understood,” said Cam, gritting his teeth on his toothpick as he spoke. “We’ll have the drop on them, so if we plan well it could even go down without a fight.” The rest of the men nodded and put their heads together. Before they could begin formulating a plan, Vayl signaled Cole.
“As soon as you catch sight of them, let us know,” he said. “It will mean they have temporarily disabled their security system, which will be our cue to move into the house.”
I wished Bergman had brought enough hi-tech instant-communications devices for the whole bunch of us, but he hadn’t anticipated such a large group needing to network on our dime. So, while Cole could talk to us through his stick-on transmitter, if anyone else on the team wanted a word, he’d have to use Cole as a relay.
I pulled the van to a stop beside the curb. To our right, darkened houses marched down the street like good little soldiers, all of them built to similar specs, the only difference being the color scheme and the shape of the gate in the obligatory fence/wall that separated sidewalk from courtyard. I wondered what the neighbors would say when they discovered they’d been living across the street from one of the world’s most reviled terrorists. I could hear the interviews now.
“You know, maybe we should’ve been suspicious when the bomb went off in his basement. But we thought he was learning to play the bass drum. And who would we tell anyway? Half the cops on the force are scared to leave their cars and the other half are working for him!”
I looked back at the guys, sharing the smile that can grow right out of your teeth just before battle. It’s involuntary. Like breathing. Or shaking your ass to rap music. Something about the threat of death just makes you feel alive. I know I wouldn’t have chosen any other spot than the one I occupied beside these fierce, grinning men tonight.