A shoe scraped along pavement up ahead. Max’s heart raced as he held his breath, straining his ears to listen.
Bzzzt. Bzzzt.
In his pocket, his phone began nonstop buzzing. Shit. He reached down and squeezed to silence it. Probably Wilkes, but he couldn’t risk a look. The light would give away his position if the buzzing hadn’t already. He cursed himself for the rookie move.
A whitish-blue face lit up maybe twenty-five yards ahead, and Max froze. It was the face of the man Max had seen looking at the dead drop signal at Wolf Trap. He had just turned his own phone on and was looking at the screen. For a moment, Max wondered why he would do something like that. He was ruining his night vision, for one. And if he was supposed to be here for a meeting or to pick something up, why would he need to look at his—
A deafening crack echoed through the forest, and the man’s head exploded.
Renee was already nervous, waiting in the car with the engine turned off. She was checking her watch and staring in the rearview mirror, hoping to see Max’s reflection as he walked back to her. She knew this had something to do with his past life. His time in Europe as an intelligence operative for the DIA would always be a part of his identity. She had known he was speaking with Caleb Wilkes about doing work for him. But she had secretly hoped that nothing would come of it.
While Renee had once worked for the CSE, Canada’s version of the NSA, she did not share the same gung-ho mentality as her beau. She didn’t like guns. She preferred nonviolent resolution to conflict. And she didn’t concern herself with politics or worry much about international affairs.
That being said, Renee wasn’t naïve. She knew how the world worked, and that there was a need for men like Max. She just didn’t want him to get hurt trying to be some sort of heroic knight. Or whatever he thought he—
Renee heard what sounded like a gunshot and froze. Then she flung the car door open. Her heart raced as thoughts of the worst flooded into her mind. She stepped out onto the sidewalk and slammed the door shut.
Had Max been shot? What if Max had shot someone? Don’t be stupid. He didn’t have a gun. Did he?
Renee looked both ways on the sidewalk, tapping her foot. She had to do something. She reopened the door, leaned into her car horn and pressed down. The loud noise echoed through the night. Dogs in a nearby home, already agitated by the gunshot, barked louder in response to the horn.
She slammed the door closed behind her again and sprinted towards the parked car.
She stopped in her tracks as a tree branch cracked and someone ran out of the woods ahead of her. The dark silhouette of a man outlined by distant car headlights. The figure stopped at the sidewalk, a good ten or twenty yards away. Renee’s stood in place, her heart stuck in her throat.
“Max?”
The figure didn’t move.
But it wasn’t him.
While Renee couldn’t make out his face, this man had a shorter frame, and he carried some sort of long bag — like one of her old field hockey stick bags from college — slung over his shoulder.
The hair on the back of Renee’s neck rose as the man stood inspecting her from the shadows, silent and motionless. Perhaps deciding what to do. Renee was about to run when, in an abrupt motion, the man reached down, picked up a mountain bike which had been lying in the grass, and pedaled away.
A million questions collided in Renee’s mind, but only one mattered right now.
Was Max hurt?
She hurried down the paved pathway into an unlit park near the side of the road. Into the woods from which the mysterious man had just emerged.
“Max!” she screamed. Breathing fast, she took her cell phone out and turned the flashlight on to see better. Her eyes played tricks on her with every shadow. Lightning bugs blinking in the humid night air. On either side of the woods, outdoor lights were coming on, illuminating the back porches of suburban homes. She called Max’s name again. In the distance, a police siren began to wail.
“Psst. Renee, over here, quick.”
Max’s voice. Thank God.
“Shine the light over here,” he said.
Renee headed towards the sound of his voice and the blue-white glow of a cell phone on the ground.
“Max, I saw someone,” she whispered. “He was running out of the forest after the gunshot.”
Max turned to look up at her. “Did he see you?”
“I think so. Maybe. He got on a bike and rode away from me when he got to the street.”
Max turned back to the ground. He was hunched over, working on something.
“I heard him run away,” he said. “I think he was hiding in the woods, waiting. I must have walked right past him. Good thinking with the horn. I think that spooked him. He took off after you did that.”
“Max, I thought… did he shoot at you? Are you alright?” As Renee got closer, she realized that Max was hunched over a man’s body. “Oh my God… ” She covered her mouth and fought the urge to retch. Half the man’s head was missing — a mass of dark red and gray mush in its place.
“You’re moving the light. Keep it over here, please.” Max’s voice was that of a surgeon at work. His hands glided into the dead man’s pockets and shoes, searching for anything he could find. Then he scanned the area surrounding the body. He grabbed the glowing phone off the ground and pocketed it.
The blue light of the first cop car flashed in between the homes up to their right.
“Let’s go. If the cops see us, we stay. But I’d like to try and make it to our car before we’re seen. If we can do that, we’ll leave.”
“Leave?” Renee didn’t like the sound of that but trusted that Max knew best in this type of situation.
Less than a minute later, they were driving away, Max in the driver’s seat, his eyes scanning the rearview mirror for any sign of trouble. Then they were driving north on the Beltway, crossing the Potomac into Maryland.
“Why didn’t you want to stay until the police arrived?”
Max said, “Caleb wouldn’t want anyone to know we were there, if we could help it.”
“Caleb Wilkes? Who were we following, Max?”
“Wilkes asked me to keep an eye on someone at the concert.”
Renee had her arms folded across her chest and was shaking. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m sorry.”
She closed her eyes, composing herself. “Who was the man in the park?”
He glanced at her and then back towards the traffic. “The man Wilkes asked me to watch at the concert was a foreign intelligence operative. He placed a signal on the side of a bench outside the concert gate. The second man — the one we followed here in the silver sedan — was the one who picked up the signal.”
“How do you know?”
“I could tell.”
“And he was the one who was killed?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Max’s phone began buzzing.
“Fend. Yes, Renee and I are fine. She was there too, yes. We left before they arrived. Yes, I am aware. That’s right. You’ll take care of it? Thank you. When? Okay, we’ll see you then.”
Renee folded her arms. “Was that who I think it was?”
“Yes. Caleb’s going to stop by and debrief us tomorrow. I assume you’re staying with me tonight?”
Renee was a mess of emotions. She took a deep breath and let out a defeated, “Yes.”
Max placed his right hand on her neck, massaging it. “Are you alright?”
She took his hand, clasping it in her own. She let out a soft breath. “I will be.”
Chapter 4
Max awoke early the next morning to the sound of gulls and a diesel motor. He climbed up the ladder to the aft deck of his forty-foot sailboat, where he had taken to staying during the warmer weather. Sunlight reflected off the still water of Annapolis harbor. A clean white fishing boat motored out of its slip and out towards the bay. Max waved to the captain, who waved back while navigating through the channel markers.