End of Days (Pike Logan #16)(58)

The woman was lithe, like a dancer, with a page-boy cut of black hair, but she moved like a leopard, searching the parking lot for threats. He recognized the danger in her immediately, like a dog sensing a threat at the door.

Who were they? And did they have anything to do with him?

He watched for them to enter his surveillance trap, but instead his video feed showed the inspector leaving the room. She appeared at the outside landing, but he now couldn’t hear what was being said. He pulled out a small monocular, staring at the group.

Waiting.





Chapter 38




I wound around the neighborhood known as the EUR, Shoshana giving me directions from her GPS for the last known contact from the Zello app in Bahrain. We found it, seeing it was a damn park. A large greenspace with kids running around and adults throwing balls for dogs. Which was bullshit. Why would the Croatian call a guy who was sitting in a park in Rome?

I said, “Okay, this is a bust. Let’s get out of here and back to the hotel. Maybe Knuckles and Brett will come up with something from the Knights of Malta headquarters.”

Shoshana said, “Not yet. Keep going. Circle around.”

I said, “What, are you looking for someone else to kill?”

She snapped her head to me, giving me her death penetration stare, and said, “That man was going to harm me. Don’t question my motives.”

On the flight over to Rome, we’d had a little come to Jesus meeting, where I’d laid into her for killing the Croatian when he was clearly no threat. I was incensed by the death. The sole purpose of the mission was to capture his ass, and we’d been superseded by the potential for a catastrophic attack, and so I’d focused on the mission against the target instead of the Croatian. But by the time she’d killed him, we were in control.

The bottom line was she’d short-circuited any ability to find out what was going on solely for vengeance of the Ramsad’s death. And that wasn’t something I could stomach.

I understood her loss at a visceral level, having lost my own family in a vicious murder years ago, along with friends killed and wounded in combat. If I could keep the mission in focus, so should she. But she wasn’t like other people. She was extremely linear. You hurt me, and I’ll exponentially hurt you, no matter the damage to the greater good. That’s just the way she lived.

I put on the brakes and said, “You aren’t even going to talk about this?”

She said, “Your Oversight Council gave us permission to explore here. Maybe you should listen to them.”

I said, “Shoshana, they gave us permission because they’re shitting their pants about going to war in the Middle East. Something we could have stopped if you hadn’t snapped that guy’s neck.”

She said nothing, staring out the window.

I said, “Do you understand where I’m coming from here? This isn’t like Lesotho. This isn’t Poland. You can’t run around killing people all the time. Sometimes we need the answers they have.”

She turned to me and said, “Why did you invite me to the wedding?”

What the hell?

Incredulous, I said, “What does that have to do with anything? I’m just asking you not to kill everyone you meet.”

She turned away and said, “You didn’t want me at the wedding. You invited me because you felt it a debt you owed. Because I saved your life. Nothing more.”

I ran my hands through my hair, pulling at the roots. I said, “What the hell are you talking about? Where is this coming from?”

She looked at me and said, “I can see it. I feel it. You didn’t want me there.”

I was really regretting my choice of teams. I’d decided that we should split up the Israelis so we could act American, if that was called for, or Israeli, if that was the better choice, leaving one or the other to do the talking. Aaron and Jennifer were getting our hotel rooms, and, since the interview with the Knights of Malta was a pure U.S. State Department affair, Knuckles and Brett were doing that. Which left me with Shoshana. The Dark Angel.

And this ridiculous discussion in the heart of Rome while I was trying to prevent more deaths. But I understood it. She had always been a stone-cold killer, but in her heart, she was also vulnerable.

I sighed and said, “Shoshana, you look at me and call me Nephilim. My given name. Why is that?”

She considered for a moment, then said, “Because it is what you are.”

“So I’m some giant from the Old Testament saving the world.”

“Not a giant. But saving the world, yes. You are pure.”

I turned to her and said, “And so are you. You are me. Not having you at the wedding would be the same as not having Jennifer there.”

She sat still for a moment, then said, “Do you mean that?”

I chuckled and said, “Look into my eyes. Do that weird thing. Figure it out for yourself.”

She smiled and said, “I just don’t know who to trust in this world. Aaron is my touchstone. And Jennifer. I’m just not sure about you.”

I said, “Yeah, because I’m you in male flesh. You don’t trust yourself. Let’s get out of here.”

I circled around the park, entered an apartment complex, and began a three-point turn to get back out. Shoshana said, “Stop.”

I did, saying, “What now?”