Miles To Go Part 11

"Did you pick up anything?" she asked, focusing on her intently.

"A little. They were arguing about whether they should have concentrated on the woods or the road."

"And?"

Hannah smiled. "Apparently everyone else is on a wild-goose chase."

"Finally, something has gone right," Rennie said.

Hannah looked at Rennie quizzically.

"Let's get moving. They will send another team out when they don't find any trace of us on the road."

Rennie sat up and brushed the dirt from her forearms. She had two more clips in the pack and switched out the partially empty one for a full one. She reloaded the pistol Hannah had emptied. Climbing out from the niche in the tree, she was careful not to b.u.mp the wound on her arm. She held the branches so Hannah could crawl through.

"Stay here. I want to check out the bodies before we move on. It will only take a minute."

She opened the pack again and tossed Hannah an MRE. "I don't know if you have the stomach to eat right now, but it would probably be a good idea. We have a long way to go."

Hannah stared at the package for a long moment. "This can't be worse than the stuff I've been forcing down for the last two years, can it?"

"You might be surprised."

Rennie left her and went to the bodies. It was all too familiar.

A scene of death. Men sprawled, contorted on the ground. In the moonlight, it was almost picturesque. The darkness of their blood against the silvery leaves. The contrast of their weapons against the rocks and trees. A tiny theater of war playing out in the endless drama of nature. And most importantly, the thing that made such perceptions at all possiblethey weren't her friends.

Rennie swallowed hard. Too familiar. But different enough that she would be okay. She would have to be. She picked up one of the Kalashnikovs. Hannah should have a weapon more powerful than the pistol she used so effectively. She ejected the empty magazine and collected a handful of replacements from the pockets of the dead men.

Rennie found Hannah sitting on the ground behind the fallen tree scooping the contents of the MRE into her mouth with her hand. Somehow she hadn't noticed the plastic utensils included in every package. Standing over her, Rennie saw her as impossibly small, a small ravenous animal. Even though she had eaten only a few hours before, Hannah consumed the MRE as if she were starving. You never knew how a body would react to killinghunger or retching. She leaned down to Hannah and rested her hand lightly on her shoulder.

"We have to move."

She checked her watch. Almost midnight. If all went well, they would reach the river by morning. She wondered how much stamina Hannah had, if she could push on, running on adrenaline.

They walked quickly side by side, each hyperaware, listening for any sign that another band of men had followed them into the woods. Rennie's arm burned with pain, but she separated herself from it. Knowing it wouldn't kill her, she wouldn't let it slow her down.

The night was warm, close. Rennie's bloodied s.h.i.+rt was sticking to her. She would change before they got to the village.

The village. It seemed fantastically remote, like a pipe dream. The team's original plan had been to check in at a rooming house in the village. It wouldn't be unusualthey were posing as hikers after all. Then, after a night of rest, they were to hire a car to Dushanbe and fly back to Germany on a commercial airliner.

There would have been nothing to connect them or their actions to the U.S. government. Rennie would follow the same plan, but it would be a bitter pill with her team lying dead in the woods.

She thought of the satellite phone then, snug in a pocket of her pack. She would call in when they got to the river. The idea filled her with the deepest dread she had ever known. She wondered when the families of her team would be notified and she was unable to stop herself from imagining the funerals, accusing eyes everywhere.

Rennie heard movement behind her and spun around, MP5 at the ready. She scanned the woods, crouching to the ground and slipping her pack off her shoulders. Hannah was already in position and looked as if she were about to fire her weapon.

Rennie followed the direction of her barrel.

"Deer. It's just a deer," she said quietly.

Hannah exhaled forcefully.

"Good response time."

Hannah shook her head. "I guess you never know what you're good at until you do it."

Rennie realized then that they were a team and had to rely on one another. And though Hannah might slow them down, Rennie was glad she was there, thankful not to be alone.

A deer.

Hannah wondered what else was lurking in these woods.

She didn't care as long as they didn't run across any more of Armin's men. A true city girl, she had an elemental discomfort with nature. She saw it for what it wasraw, brutal, unforgiving.

Sometimes, finding herself in it, she became jumpy, succ.u.mbing to ancient fears, images of spiders and snakes creeping into her consciousness. And on certain moonless nights, there was that inky, infinite darkness that seemed to have no depth, so dark it obliterated perception, like trying to move through a void.

And here she was, stuck in the woods. She didn't want to believe in luck, chance, destinywhatever you wanted to call itbut she had to, especially now, even though it chafed against her adherence to reason. Always, her parents' story and the stories of countless others who lived and died without rhyme or reason ate at her precious seat of rationality. She knew she couldn't accept living in a world of such randomness. Both of her parents had made it through Ravensbruck as children, had clung to one another in the chaos, and emerged with the blackest humor known to man. For them, everything in life was filtered through the prism of that time when the world teetered dangerously on its axis. They saw America as a paradise but they retained an intense skepticism of any government, including that of their beloved adopted country.

She whispered a prayersomething she never didthat they were still on this earth, still puttering around the apartment in Baltimore where she grew up. She thought of her own beautiful, tiny apartment in Dupont Circle. She knew her apartment was a contradiction, a minimalist paradox that defined her. Spare pieces with clean lines that expressed her ultimate conundrum a desire for beauty and a desire to have nothing. If you have nothing, nothing can be taken from you. But then there was her art. The paintings on her walls were a slap in the face of what she supposedly was trying to accomplish with her furnitureno crisp lines, no muted blocks of color, no simple constructions, but a riotous, swirling chaos of color and texture, imagessometimes violentthat never failed to evoke a response. Buying them never felt like commerce, but like a t.i.the. Hannah wondered if this experience would change her taste, transform it into something darker, more violentif that were possible.

She took in her surroundings. The forest was drenched in moonlight releasing them from its interminable depth. Rennie strode ahead. She always seemed to be moving forward, strong and resolute. Hannah wondered how the woman had gotten to this point, in a position where she took men's lives and could rest a.s.sured that she had done the right thing. Rennie. An odd name.

Hannah wasn't sure it suited her. She thought of Camillaa minor figure in Virgil's great epic poem. A woman of battle who was devoted to Diana, the G.o.ddess of the moon. She had captured Hannah's imagination as a teenager. Here, as Rennie waded through the moonlight, gun in hand, covered in blood, she seemed to embody her.

Hannah mused how unlike Rennie she herself was. She was never one to take action. She was an observer. Always seeking out the truth, it was what had drawn her to journalism. But she knew that the truth was slippery. She knew about hidden agendas, secret plans and how in a moment the world could explode into chaos. Just as her own little world had. How can you ever know that what you are doing isn't actually carrying out a plan of evil you are unaware of? Hannah had a million questions for Rennie.

Her reporter's instincts had finally kicked in now that she had a moment of quiet.

At first she had a.s.sumed Rennie was a lone a.s.sa.s.sin, but who would send a woman for such a job? The FBI may have changed a little over the years, but not that much. It was still an old boys'

club. An a.s.sa.s.sin wouldn't come out of the FBI anyway. At least she didn't think so. For years, the FBI had been a purely domestic operation, but as the world became smaller and the United States found itself with more and more enemies, the Bureau had begun opening offices in foreign countries. Besides, Rennie had said that she was a.s.sociated with a special forces team. Hannah had done a piece once on U.S. special forces years ago before she began 0.

covering Iran. She knew then that women weren't accepted by any of the units. She supposed things could have changed. Caught up in her new a.s.signment, she hadn't done any research on the issue for a year or so before she was captured. But the question remained: why was she working alone? It didn't make sense.

Hannah's muscles were already aching from the exertion. But it felt good to be outside. Her first taste of freedom. Hannah glanced over at Rennie. She looked tense and Hannah wondered if she was in pain. She knew almost nothing about this woman.

She did know that her very life depended on her.

"How much farther to the village?" Hannah asked quietly.

"It's a ways. We'll stop at the river first. To stock up on water."

Then Hannah remembered the remark Rennie had made: Finally, something has gone right.

Hannah was ambivalent, but decided to risk the question.

"What happened to the rest of your team?"

Rennie jerked her head toward her, thrown off guard. So, that was it. Hannah immediately regretted asking it the way she did."I'm sorry"

"They're dead." Rennie turned away. "They're all dead."

They didn't say more. Hannah knew to let it be. They walked on in silence.

At first, little changes in the terrain, a slight incline or a dip, a fallen tree to step over or a large rock to skirt, kept the long walk interesting. Hannah appreciated almost any variation, to keep her mind occupied. But as the hours wore on and her legs felt heavier and heavier, she began to make mistakes, stumbling and slipping from fatigue. Just when she thought she couldn't take another step, Rennie spoke.

"We're here."

Hannah looked up, tearing her concentration away from the ground, from her focus on each step. She was surprised to see that the night had almost pa.s.sed. Light had begun to seep into the darkness. She saw the river snaking between its banks and realized she was holding herselfthe temperature had dropped and she was cold. Reaching the river felt like a milestone. Hannah didn't know how long their journey would take and part of her didn't want to know, but she knew that getting to the river meant that they were making progress and were that much farther away from her life in captivity.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

Rennie felt a combination of relief and fear as they reached the river. She hated to stop walking but Hannah needed a rest.

She seemed to have burrowed deep into herself to a place where Rennie couldn't count on her to help keep watch. She looked as if she could do little more than put one foot in front of the other.

"We'll stop here for a bit."

Hannah nodded. She looked cold and exhausted. The breeze coming off the river was a welcome change from the stifling heat they had endured through most of the trip.

Rennie slipped off her pack and fished a small pair of binoculars from a pocket. It was just getting light. She was at a different spot on the river from her trek in, hopefully a little closer to the village, but it was hard to tell. It was rockier here and sandier too. As she scanned the river line, she saw a spot a couple of hundred yards down where a large rock hung over the bank. Over many years, the river had carved away a niche, a small shelter, and the water was low enough that it looked dry. Rennie pointed it out to Hannah who looked so weary that Rennie thought she might balk at going the short distance.

They walked on the higher ground to avoid leaving their trail in the sand. When they reached the rock, Rennie leaned over and saw that the drop down to the sandy spot was a little over six feet. The hollow area where they would stay was deep enough to hide them from view if someone were to come along the bank. It wasn't quite a cave, but it was as close to real shelter as they were going to get. They climbed down alongside the rock. Rennie snapped a small branch from a tree as they went.

"I want to leave as little sign of us as possible," she said when they reached the bottom, using the branch to smooth their footprints in the sand.

Hannah sat down in the hollow of the rock and leaned back against it.

"Mmm, comfy."

"I know you need sleep, but I need you to do something for me first."

Hannah raised her eyebrows in a question.

"I intercepted a doc.u.ment from Armin's men on my way in.

It's written in Farsi. I need you to tell me what it is."

"Okay." Hannah looked interested.

"It's maybe ten pages. You don't need to read it word for word. Just enough to give me a sense of its importance."

"No problem."

Rennie handed Hannah the envelope. While she was reading with a pen-sized Maglite, Rennie set to work filling their water bladders. At least with the extra bladders she wouldn't have to worry about becoming dehydrated again. The water was cold and her hands chilled quickly. She would like to bath.e.s.h.e was as grimy as a human being could bebut it would be too much of a risk. If all went well, they would be at the boarding house in two days and hopefully they would have hot water. A hot shower, a soft bed, a meal on a plate, all the little comforts she had always taken for granted seemed fantastically distant now. She promised herself that if she made it back alive, she would always value the small things.

Rennie felt the toll the last few days had taken on her body.

Blood throbbed in the wound on her arm and pain shot through her back and shoulders as she bent over the river. The bruise on her head from the stock of the gun was still sore to the touch but healing well. She needed rest, maybe as much as Hannah needed it, but it would have to wait. She knew she could push herself when she needed to and now was the time.

The water bladders filled, Rennie washed her arms and face and neck, s.h.i.+vering at the touch of the cold water. That would have to do. Hannah was still intently reading as Rennie made her way back to her. Leaning against the rock, Rennie added the iodine tablets to the water. Her pack was next to her. In a padded pocket was the satellite phone, like an accusation, snug and waiting in its bed. She should have called in long ago. At least now she could say she had done what they had come to do. And had rescued an American hostage. It wouldn't mitigate the horror of the awful report she had to make, but it was something.

Rennie felt Hannah's eyes on her.

"Do you have any idea what's in this?" Hannah asked, holding the doc.u.ment.

"No."

"It's a list of names. Of men, and a few women, and their affiliations with various terrorist organizations, along with detailed information of completed crimes. Most of the network leads back to a mosque in London."

Rennie frowned. "Is there any data regarding future events?"

"No. Whoever compiled the list appears to have had only rudimentary intelligence. But there is a map."

"Yes. It's of the village."

Rennie had noticed the hand-drawn map on the last page of the doc.u.ment.

"What does this say?" Rennie asked, pointing to a mark on the page.

Hannah squinted at the map. The writing was a little smudged. "I think it's some kind of boarding house."

Their meeting place. "Any notation about the time?"

"No." Hannah turned to Rennie and smiled. "But there is a room number."

Rennie thought. "This had to have come from Armin. The thugs I took this off ofwell one was just a boythey couldn't have had this kind of information. This implies connections. It must be from Armin. But why would Armin be pa.s.sing this to someone?"

"Someone must have something Armin wanted."

"Yes, but this looks like the type of information that would be turned over to the intelligence agency of a state, a state that fights terrorism."

"There's one more thing." Hannah paused. "One name on the list seems to be highlighted, to have more details than the rest.""And?"

"He's an American."

Rennie closed her eyes. She could never understand how anyone could turn against their country. She could see that her country, her government rather, had made mistakes, many mistakes over the years. But a country is not its government. A country is its people. Who could turn against their own flesh and blood? And then she thought of Armin and his brother.

"What's the name?"