"I want out. I want us out," she said, and he wasn't sure he was relieved.
This was the worst case scenario he had expected, and deep down inside, he really wished he had kept his mouth shut. He released a long, dramatic sigh, which annoyed her based on the frown she flashed.
"We can't leave yet. We've talked about this," he said, which he knew was a weak opening.
"I know we've already talked about it. I want to talk about it again. I can't take it there anymore," she said, giving him a look that silenced a few of the tables adjacent to them at the sidewalk café.
"One more year, and we can go wherever we want. Do whatever we want. I promised him three years…"
"He made you promise three years. It was his idea, not yours. I don't trust him to keep his word. I'm the only knife instructor. You're the only sniper instructor."
"He has others that can teach marksmanship."
"You know the difference."
Daniel shifted uncomfortably in his chair and grimaced. He knew she was right to a degree. Everyone at the compound could shoot extremely well at short and medium distances, under pretty much any conditions, but Sanderson had a noticeable absence of any experienced, skilled snipers. He knew why and didn't want to share the information with Jessica. He was the only trained sniper that had survived his initial assignment with the original Black Flag program. Sanderson didn't have anyone else close to Daniel's experience level and he had been unable to procure a fully trained, experienced sniper in his new batch of trainees. Melendez had recently finished the Marine Corps sniper program, but hadn't deployed to Iraq or Afghanistan to put his skills to the test. Daniel was Sanderson's only qualified instructor for long range, concealed shooting.
"I know. I just don't know what we can do right now. I can't leave him high and dry," he offered weakly.
"Really? He didn't seem to have any hesitation leaving us high and dry a few years ago. We took the easy way out — your words — and it was a big mistake. We should have packed up and vanished. You and I both know we were manipulated. We're still being manipulated."
"We've been over this a million times. There was no way we could have predicted what he was planning, and I didn't exactly hear you argue against killing Ghani," he replied, immediately regretting his comment.
"Ghani was funding Al Qaeda, supposedly."
"That was confirmed."
"Confirmed by whom? Sanderson? A very trustworthy source," she said sarcastically.
"Look, this isn't productive. We've been down this road. What are we supposed to do?"
"I say we walk away. We have more money than either of us could ever spend…"
"I don't know about that," he said.
"Thanks for the dig," she quipped.
"I'm sorry. Seriously. I just don't know," Daniel said.
"I think we need to trust our instincts. If we had walked away from Sanderson in the first place, we wouldn't be international fugitives. We'd have normal lives, somewhere else…but it would be so much better than what we have now."
"We have each other," he said and squeezed her hand.
"I know, but Sanderson used that leverage against you once. What's to say he won't do it again? There's no reasoning with him. I'm telling you that I'm done with his program. I'm pretty sure the only way to leave is to simply vanish. You can mail him a nice card with an explanation if you feel like you owe him anything. As it stands, I don't feel like I owe him a fucking thing. I spent over six years in Serbia, in the company of society's worst, and I never killed anyone. I had ample opportunity, and at times would have liked nothing better, but I didn't. I couldn't. I had a job to do and if I killed every man that took advantage of Zorana, or violated her, there would have been no need for NATO intervention in Belgrade. It was one of the few moral high grounds I could stand on, and Sanderson robbed me of that." Jessica’s eyes started to glisten. "I just don't know what I'm doing here…"
"That was my fault. I should never have let you do that," he said.
"You're right, you shouldn't have. But it was my idea. I could have pulled the plug on the whole thing, right up to the point where I jogged up his driveway. I knew better, but I had convinced myself that it was the best thing for both of us. Sanderson had us both under his spell, and here we are on furlough in Buenos Aires. I'm done with him, Danny. You're either with me on this, or we're done," she said and stared up at him fiercely. All the traces of a young woman about to break down crying had been quickly erased.
"I'm with you. Always. Give me a few weeks to make some arrangements."
Daniel’s beeper buzzed. He kept his cell phone turned off when he wasn't using it, and so did Jessica. Neither of them needed Sanderson eavesdropping on their conversations through some of the clever technology he kept hidden in his vault at the compound. By the look on Jessica's face, he could tell that she had formed the same thought about the coincidence of the beeper's timing. With Sanderson, they just never knew.
"Your beeper?" she said, shaking her head.
"Makes you wonder," he said and took his cell phone out of the cargo pocket of his khaki shorts.
He dialed the number on the beeper, which he recognized as one of Sanderson's satellite phone connections.
"Daniel. Appreciate the quick response. Sorry to do this to you, but a situation has developed, and a very good friend of ours needs some help. I'm putting you in charge of the team. I've made arrangements to have you flown directly to an airfield near the compound. I need you at the Aeroparque Jorge Newbery within the hour. It's located on the water, a few miles north of Palermo, so you should have plenty of time to pack up and get over there. Check in at the private terminal. You know the deal. Bring Jess with you, please."
"She's not going to be happy about this," he said.
"I know she won't, but she'll want to be here when you leave. It's an overseas assignment. Something right up your alley."
"Right up my alley, huh? Okay. We'll see you in a few hours." He disconnected the call. "We have to go."
"Are you fucking kidding me? Another critical job neutralizing more of señor Galenden's competition?"
"No. This sounds different. Overseas. Let me do this job for Sanderson and I'll work on a plan when I get back. I'm with you, Jessica. I just want to do this smartly."
"Do you ever want to call me Nicole?"
"Every time I look at you," he said with no hesitation.
"I want to be Nicole again." She stood up from the café table.
"I'd really like that. You might have to be Nicola, Nicolette…or maybe Nikita," he said, tucking the bill and some cash under a salt shaker on the table.
"La Femme Nikita? I don't think so. Danny, don't look now, but a guy in Mama Gracha's just took a picture of us…I think. He used a small camera or a phone."
"It's on our way back to the apartment, so why don't we casually stroll past and take a closer look," he said.
"Sounds good," she said and leaned over to kiss him and grab his hand.
Daniel and Jessica navigated through crowded tables of the large sidewalk café. It appeared that most of Buenos Aires awoke with the same idea. To take advantage of an unusually warm late April day before the temperatures dropped significantly in May. They hadn't passed a single empty table on their walk to the plaza and had endured a thirty-minute wait to enjoy their favorite brunch spot. Although it was possible to enjoy breakfast outside all year round in Buenos Aires if properly dressed, most locals crowded indoors during the winter months, emerging only on the occasional day when the temperatures rose temptingly into the seventies.