The Eighth Sister (Charles Jenkins #1)(50)
“Then we’ll fight.”
“If we stay, we both lose our only chance. The boat will not wait, and it will not return. How long can we fight? How many?”
Jenkins paced.
“Please,” she said. “Let me do this for my brother.”
“For your brother—”
“What I have done, all these years, I did to avenge his death. But I have spent my entire life living in the shadows, Charlie. I have never loved after my divorce—because I could not take the pain of losing another person. You are married. You love your wife. You have a son and another child on the way. You have love in your life, Charlie. I was never so fortunate. I want this chance to step from the shadows, and to look the people in the eye who killed Ivan. I want to tell them that everything I have done, I have done because I love him.”
Jenkins sat on the sofa across from her. “It won’t be that simple, Paulina. They’ll torture you to find out what you know about me, and where I have gone.”
Again, she smiled. “They will never have the chance, Charlie.”
Jenkins knew she meant that she would take her own life when the time came.
“I will tell them that for decades my brother did them more harm than they could ever have imagined doing to him, or to me. And they will have to live with the knowledge that revenge has eluded them, once again.”
Jenkins sighed, fighting back his emotions.
“Do not be sad for me, Charlie. This is a day I have anticipated, and for which I have long prepared. I am at peace with my God, and I am anxious to see my brother dance the ballet in the greatest ballroom in all eternity. Give me this gift. Give me this opportunity to know that I have harmed them one last time.”
“What will you do?”
“I will get to the car, and I will lead them away from here. When I do, you must go quickly. There is a gap in the fence at the back of the property. The lot behind us is vacant but filled with trees and shrubbery to provide cover. Make your way to the access. It will lead you to the water’s edge. Have everything prepared so that when you reach the water you can submerge.”
“The compass,” he said. “I don’t know how to use it.”
She removed the compass from her wrist and fastened it to his. “You keep this arm straight. The arm with the compass you bend at a ninety-degree angle, gripping the other wrist, like this.” She showed him. “You follow a compass heading of 210 degrees.”
“How do I—”
“We will set the compass bezel until the north arrow is aligned, like this.” She moved the bezel counterclockwise. “This red line is the lubber line. This we will adjust to 210 degrees. In the water, this button is the light to illuminate the watch, but the compass will glow continuously, and you will be able to see the direction you are heading. Keep your arm and the compass as level as I showed you, and keep the lubber line on 210 degrees as you kick.”
“What about the current?”
“The Black Sea does not have any appreciable tide. Just follow the lubber line and kick hard. It is not an inconsequential distance, and keeping the course will be difficult, but it can be done. How well do you swim?”
“It’s been a while.”
“You look to be in good shape. Your legs are strong, yes?”
“Yes,” he said.
“You must be in the water no later than five forty-five. Thirty minutes is a decent time to swim three hundred meters. Stay under the water no more than three meters to conserve your air. The boat will come between six fifteen and seven o’clock. It will not appear one minute before, and it will not stay one minute longer.”
“How will I see it?”
“He will drop a light into the water. You must look for the light. When you see it, release your beacon but keep the string wrapped around your wrist. He will have the coordinates. He will come to you. Surface only when he comes.”
“What if I run out of air before he gets there?”
“You are going to have to relax. Breathe calmly. You can do this, Charlie. Do this for me and do this for Ivan. Do this for your wife and your son and your unborn child.” She paused, staring at him as if there was something else to tell him.
“What?”
“Your wife will have a daughter,” she said softly.
Jenkins took a moment, considering her. She seemed so certain. “How could you know that? I don’t even know that.”
She shrugged. “I do not know, but about this I feel strongly.”
Jenkins nodded. “If we do have a daughter, I’ll name her Paulina, and when she is old enough, I’ll tell her about the sacrifice you have made.”
Ponomayova looked to be fighting emotions. She stood and checked her watch. “We must go now.” She moved to where she had placed her black coat and black knit hat.
“Paulina?”
She turned and smiled, but she spoke no words. No words came to Jenkins either. He watched her walk to the back of the house. A second later, he heard the back door open and click closed.
29
Alekseyov called Federov with news regarding the house with the shed. FSB agents found the owner at his apartment in the Yasenevo District just northeast of downtown Moscow. He told the officers that he and his wife inherited the beach property from her parents and used it during the summer months. He stored his truck and his tools in the shed. He had no other car. The shed should have been empty.