Henry shrugged.
“Come on, Henry,” she said, slightly impatient now. “What aren’t you telling me?”
The unadorned honesty of the question caught him off guard, although it shouldn’t have. It was the only kind of question Danny had ever asked him, at least since he’d showed her the photocopy of her DIA badge. He sighed.
“Clay Verris gets billions every year to clear targets any way he sees fit,” Henry said. “That’s Gemini—off-book kidnappings, torture. They’re who you call when you need twelve Saudi princes to quietly disappear. Or you want someone to train your death squads.”
Danny’s expression showed she knew that still wasn’t everything and she wasn’t going to settle for anything less than the whole story.
“When I was six weeks into sniper school,” he went on after a moment, “Clay Verris put me on a boat, and took me five miles out. He tied weights to my ankles, then threw me overboard and told me to tread water until I couldn’t any more.”
Danny’s jaw dropped. “He didn’t know about your fear of—”
“Of course he knew.” Henry couldn’t help laughing a little. She may have had an exemplary record with the agency but she still had a lot to learn. “That was the point.”
“So, what did you do?” Her eyes were wide and serious.
“I treaded water for as long as I could,” Henry said. “Then I drowned. Dead.”
Baron’s bright, beautiful living room was gone and he was back in the ocean, sinking down into a cold, dark death, unable to feel his fingers and toes, his arms and legs too heavy to move, his muscles completely used up, drained and done. By then, his head was the only place he had any sensation. How icy the water had been as it covered his face. He could remember that so clearly, so vividly, the same way he could remember his father’s enormous grin and the terrified little boy in those mirror shades. Dying in the ocean had seemed like the last bit of his father’s malice, a booby-trap set to go off at a time and place where there was no loving mother to come to his rescue Henry’s last breath had escaped him in a stream of bubbles as he died in the dark and the cold.
Abruptly he came back to himself and the late afternoon light in Baron’s living room. Danny was sitting on the edge of the sofa cushion, waiting for the rest of the story, her eyes wide with dismay. They didn’t do things like this where she came from, or so she thought. Baron had heard the story before—had one of his own that was just as bad—but even he looked a little spooked.
“He fished me out,” Henry continued, speaking quickly now. “Put defibrillator paddles on my chest, shocked me back to life and told me I was now ready to serve under his command.”
Danny’s expression was horrified and revolted. Yeah, a whole lot to learn.
Baron came over with a bottle of Jose Cuervo Especial Silver and three shot glasses. He handed the glasses around and poured a generous measure into each.
“To the next war,” Baron said, raising his glass. “Which is no war.”
“No war,” Henry echoed.
“No war,” Danny agreed, which earned her a smile of approval from Baron. Henry expected her to cough a little and was surprised when she didn’t. Then he remembered this was a woman who drank boilermakers.
“When I leave here,” Henry said to her, “you’re going to stay. The farther away I am from you, the better off you’ll be.”
“Sorry, that’s not your call,” Danny informed him in a final, almost prim-sounding tone.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Henry said, exasperated. “You whipped the guy in the marina, you’re a real badass. But this is different. You’re not ready.”
Danny’s expression darkened. “Hey, old guy,” she said, not at all prim now. “You want some teeth knocked out, too?”
Baron laughed like she’d found his ticklish spot. “I like her,” he told Henry.
“I do, too,” Henry admitted. “It’s annoying as hell.” He sat back on the sofa, suddenly feeling drained, as if he’d used the last of his energy to tell Danny the story about drowning. He ran a hand over his face. “Need some shut-eye, man.”
“Sure,” Baron said cheerfully. “You folks want one room or—”
“Two,” Danny said, quickly and emphatically, as if it were crucial to make this clear. Then her face reddened with embarrassment. “Two,” she repeated quietly.
“Hey, I can put him in the garage if you want,” Baron offered.
“Separate rooms will be fine,” Henry said. “I’m so tired I don’t even care if there’s a bed.”
“There is one, use it or not—your call. Follow me.” Baron chuckled. “Think you can manage the stairs, old guy?”
“Very funny,” Henry said, then added, “Hope so.”
CHAPTER 9
Henry had been awake for a few minutes, lying quietly to get his bearings, when he heard a flock of birds near the open window of his bedroom suddenly take flight. Something had startled them. The sound of startled birds was different from birds just doing their bird-thing and taking off; it was a very subtle difference but Henry had always been able to tell.
He rolled out of bed onto the floor, crept to the window, and peeked over the sill. Three houses away, a man in a black baseball cap moved from a higher roof to a lower one. There was a rifle bag over his shoulder. Henry could tell he was several grades above the guys that had come after him in Georgia. His cap was pulled low so Henry couldn’t see his face but there was something familiar about his movements, like he was someone Henry knew or had at least seen before, although he was pretty sure they had never met personally. No one he came up against in the field lived to regret it.
The answer came to him unbidden: Gemini had sent him. The indoctrination and training gave their operatives a particular look—their moves, their posture, even how they carried their weapons (and used them). Verris was so particular about it, he trained all his guys personally to the point where they might as well have been clones.
Staying low, Henry dressed quickly, grabbed his burn bag, and slipped out of the room. He found Danny in a downstairs bedroom, sleeping as deeply as ever. She must have been right about that clear conscience thing, he thought. Hell, she had even been able to sleep on the goddam Corsair.
Henry crawled over to her bed, found the Glock in her burn bag, then put his hand over her mouth. Her eyes flew open and she looked terrified until she felt him putting the Glock in her hand. He uncovered her mouth.
“Two hundred yards away,” he whispered. “Rooftop.”
Danny nodded silently, all business now. Henry felt a sudden surge of affection for her. Even though she had a lot to learn, she was a quick study and she didn’t whine.
“When he sees me leave, he’ll follow,” he said in a low voice. “Go with Baron, someplace safe. Please,” he added as she opened her mouth to argue. She nodded again, reluctantly.
He found Baron on the couch in the living room. His friend had dozed off watching the flatscreen on the opposite wall. Henry’s eyebrows went up; hadn’t there been an art print hanging there yesterday when they had come in? Right now there was a Colombian game show on with a frantic host and even more frantic contestants, but fortunately the sound was off. The remote sitting in Baron’s lap looked like something NASA would use to control satellites. If they could get the World Series in Cartagena, Henry thought he might have to seriously reconsider Baron’s offer.
But not today.