Lovers in the Woods (7 page)

“
I know. Just another hour. There’s still
enough light.”

He looked up, his expression worried.
“I’ll feel much better if we got a roof over our heads sooner than
later. The old man was right, it will rain.”

“
The old man’s a miserable snitch. Under
different circumstances, he would have been shot.”

“But we got away unharmed. Isn’t that what
counts?”

She gave him a wry smile, hardly keeping
back that she did not like to be escorted and helped by a criminal.
However, Sajitar was a polite and obviously capable man. She could
have had worse company.

“
Sanjongy’s people expected us to leave the
woods again.” They exchanged a glance of mutual anxiety,
extinguishing the smile at once. “I’m sure they paid more
lumberjacks to bushwhack us.”

“You’re right.” Sajitar frowned and added
after a moment of hesitation, “Are you sure these were Sanjongy’s
people waiting for us?”

Rayenne looked back over her shoulder,
realized it was absurd to expect to see anything but trees, and
turned back again.

“No policeman would force a lumberjack to
lure us into his hut. They would’ve come in person. After all, this
is a police operation.”

“I’m not convinced.”

Rayenne sighed.

“Sanjongy might not be everywhere, but their
net is widespread. They hire poor men like this lumberjack to do
their dirty work for them. Believe me,” she added with more vigor
than she felt when Sajitar still frowned, “they have more helpers
on their list than the police do. And that’s a real pity.”

The forest was dark as night and empty as the
old man’s purse.

Who else waits for us?
She sat back in the
saddle, easing her butt, wishing she could ease her mind.
How is it possible
they found us so fast?
She had seen the frightened face of the old man
and assumed he had had no choice but to lead them into the trap.
Still, the circumstances were weird. There had to be a logical
explanation why Sanjongy had been able to wait for them.

“Are you all right?”

“I don’t know yet.” She realized his worry
was real and shook her head. “I’m okay.”

“Good. Let’s see if we find a fitting place
to pitch a tent.”

“
I have something better than
that.”

“You do?”

Instead of an explanation she dismounted and
took off the saddlebags. Her hands shook when she opened them. He
came to her side, taking the reins of their horses.

“Let me do it,” he offered, putting his big
hand over hers. She shook it off.

“I do it. You
didn’t know about this technology before, so how would you know how
to use it?” Without waiting for a reply, she unpacked a sleeping
bag and a silvery package. While Sajitar watched, she pushed four
oblong sticks, each the length of her forearm, in the ground to
form a square, then hit a switch. The tops of the sticks glowed in
soft yellow.

“Tent pitched.”
Under different circumstances she would have made an inviting
gesture, yet the shock of having escaped the third attack in one
day dimmed her mood. “Do you want to enter? You can bring your
sleeping bag, too.”

“You have your
generous moments, don’t you?” After unsaddling and hobbling the
horses, he brought his sleeping bag and stepped between the four
sticks that framed the basic size of a tent for two. There was a
soft humming around him as he breached the barrier, then nothing.
“That’s your tent?” He looked up. “Quite the rustic version. It’s
not warm in here.”

Rayenne
hesitated. For a moment, there had been a flicker in Sajitar’s
eyes, something worth interpreting. She licked her lips and thrust
her sleeping bag into the makeshift tent, determined to stop
thinking about anything tonight.

“Drop your
shirt and let me see what hit you.”

“What hit me?
Oh, you mean…” He laughed, but it had a nervous ring to it. “Before
then…before we met that old man.”

“Right.”
Rayenne stepped into the tent when he had already nestled down in
the sleeping bag. “Does it still hurt?”

“In a way, yes, but I almost forgot about
it.”

She held the shirt and carefully touched
the rim of the wound.

“Looks like a bullet.”

“Ouch!”

“Sorry. That’s odd. The shell’s embedded in
the skin.”

“Pull it out.”

“
Not without a tool. The heat sealed the
wound around it. It’s like it’s molded to the skin. I could use
forceps to get it out, but it’ll hurt like hell.”

Sajitar strained to see the wound. “Damn
it! How could they get such a bullet? I thought all of this stuff
is forbidden!”

“
The weapons must be the latest in
technology. Their operating distance exceeds those I know by a
mile. And the bullet…” She shook her head, grimacing. “I’m sorry,
Sajitar, but there’s been much more trouble in Belson Park since
you were there the last time. The bad guys have obviously upgraded
without telling us.”

Sajitar pressed his forehead against the warm
cloth of the bag. He looked wrung out and in pain.

“What’s the damage?” he asked, his voice
muffled against the ground.

“
If the bullet stays in one place and you
don’t move too much, you’ll make it through the woods, no
doubt.”

“You sure?”

“I can’t claim huge experience with bullet
wounds, but the way it looks it won’t go anywhere. You’ll be fine.”
She opened the zipper of her jacket and pulled her arms out.

“You want me to be fine.”

“Sure, yes.”

He turned his head. “To get my testimony
against this woman.”

Rayenne
swallowed and tried to keep her voice even.

“Her name’s
Sananda Wang and I’m still convinced you know her well enough to
remember that.”

Sajitar closed
his eyes, sighing.

“I guess
there’s nothing I can say that would change your mind, right?”

She started
inspecting the jacket and found a shell that looked similar to the
one in Sajitar’s side.

“I won’t leave
you before we reach HQ.”

“Will you
protect me, then, if more bullets start a march through my
body?”

“That’s my
task, so, yes.” Irritated, she looked up.

“Good to
know.”

“Look here.”
She pulled out a small light from her jacket pocket and showed
Sajitar where the bullet had ruined her jacket. “Someone shot me,
too.”

“The jacket’s a
fine protection. I should get one of these.”

“Standard
police equipment. Extra thick padding.” She fingered for the rest
of the bullet that was stuck in the material. “It’s…quite unusual.”
She dropped the jacket to inspect the separated bullet more closely
in her hand. “I thought the shell would be left behind, but it had
a second one, obviously. That’s odd.” When he frowned, she showed
him the two parts she had found. “When a bullet is fired, the shell
falls off and the bullet hits the target, right? In this case,
there is a second shell that enclosed the real bullet until it hit
the target, then parted with it and moved on.”

“You mean…” He
stopped to touch his side. “This here is just one part of two?”

Rayenne bit her
lower lip.

“Unfortunately,
yes. But there’s more.”

“Unfortunately?”

“The bullet’s a
transmitter. As long as it stays intact, someone will be able to
follow and find us, no matter where we go. That’s how they got to
us so quickly.” She inspected the tiny object then crushed it with
the butt of her weapon.

“Then you have
to take it out.”

“How? I can try
to pull out the shell if you want me to, but the bullet is another
story. If it already parted with the shell, there’s no telling
where it went.”

“Shall I wait
until it peeps out and tells you?” Rayenne took a deep breath to
answer, but he was faster. “Ray, please, you have to try. I don’t
want to run around like a signal tower.”

“It’s not sure
if it’s transmitting across this great distance and…”

He held her
wrist, looking intently at her.

“That’s the
answer to Sanjongy’s killers being ahead of us! We have to become
invisible or we’ll be trapped like Dikis in a sling. Please, it’s
worth a try. I have a first aid kit in my saddlebags. With some
painkillers. You just have to do it. I can’t do it alone.”

“I’m no
nurse.”

“And I’m no
criminal. Which means, I’m worth saving. So, will you get out now
and shuffle your nerves together?”

Rayenne wanted
to contradict, but the prospect of cutting out a bullet silenced
her. She nodded and left the tent.

Upon her
return, Sajitar had resumed a position that allowed her best access
to the small gleaming object. She sighed and put down the first aid
kit and a bigger lamp. Eying him skeptically, she handed him his
flagon.

“You got
something against the pain, you said. This looks like a bottle
of—”

“Medicine, Ray,
pure medicine.”

He reached out,
but she pulled back her hand with the flagon.

“What is
it?”

“Kiliak, a
strong drink I know. Now give it to me.”

“Where did you
get it? I heard it’s forbidden.”

“You heard
wrong.” He snatched the flagon from her hand, unscrewed it and took
a long swallow. “Here, you need something, too.”

“If I
drink…”

“Do it. You
truly look as if you’d break down any minute.” Her hands trembled
when she took it. “Hey, it’s just a hot shell in my skin. You don’t
have to perform heart surgery, okay?”

“Why are you so
damned sure I can do this?”

“Because I
can’t. Even if I could reach the spot, I would faint the moment I
cut myself. There’s a clear reason for self-protection built into
mankind’s genes. I could fall into a knife by accident, but I
wouldn’t cut myself up willingly.” He held a stick in his hand,
thicker than his finger. “See? I’ll bite on this and you get that
shell out nice and quick.”

“I still feel
like I could faint any minute.”

“You can look
at blood, can’t you?”

“I’m a police
officer.”

“Now that
explains everything.”

“Shut up.”

“As you wish.”
He waved the stick before his face, but she could not smile through
the strain. She put down the flagon and closed her eyes for a
moment, waiting for the alcohol to kick in and lend her some
strength.

Rayenne took
her time assorting the instruments she needed. She disinfected the
area around the shell, placed the scalpel and forceps beside her,
and wished that she could call someone to take over the task.

Finally she
nodded, taking a deep breath. “Now you’ll learn if I can help or
harm you.”

“Just go
ahead.” He put the stick between his teeth and turned his gaze
toward the scalpel in her hand.

She wished he’d
make a joke, but now the stress got to both of them. The area was
reddened by the disinfectant and the shell gleamed like a hot spot
in its center. She put the blade close to the rim of the shell. To
cut the skin was much easier than she had thought. Blood welled up
and ran down on the small towel she had placed beneath. Carefully
she widened the cut and set the forceps to work. Sajitar moaned and
breathed hard as the pain hit him. He balled his hands into tight
fists, pressing his eyes shut to ride out the pain. She tried to
divert her thoughts by thinking of how hot the metal must have been
to scorch the skin and get stuck. She let her mind travel to all
the different kinds of weapons she knew and listed their names and
bullet velocity. Still, she wanted to touch Sajitar’s skin, caress
him and tell him that it would be all right soon, but she couldn’t
utter a single word.

Stubbornly, she
only looked at the wound. Now her hands were calm and worked
efficiently. Her breathing slowed down and she ignored the drops of
sweat that ran down her temples. Within two minutes she had
loosened the shell and pulled it out carefully. Some skin was still
attached to it, but she could see that the shell was empty. She
held back a curse and very carefully probed whether the bullet was
in reach. She had no luck and did not dare to stick the forceps any
deeper. She thanked the gods that the hole was small and would heal
within a week once properly closed.

“I’m not yet
finished,” she told Sajitar quietly as she rummaged through the
first aid kit. “It might sting, I think.” When she looked she
realized that Sajitar had given in to the pain. His mouth was slack
and the stick lay beside his face. “Much better,” she mumbled. She
had never stitched a wound and was glad that the spray she found
sealed the wound with a flexible membrane that would subdue the
pain as well as protect it against infection.

Her thoughts
returned to the beginning of the operation.

It had been easy to get a search warrant for Sajitar’s
apartment. Once the name
Sananda
Wang
had been uttered in conjunction with
that unimportant man from an unimportant village, the judge had
nodded and signed the document without further questions. Later
Rayenne had pondered whether policemen usually went hunting without
a judge’s order to legalize their actions. She had not asked her
colleagues, but the feeling of being part of an operation that was
outside correct police action troubled her.

With four men,
they had searched Sajitar’s small apartment in order to find clues
about his connection with Wang, illegal substances, or anything
that would prove the man’s guilt. In the end, they had upturned
furniture, ripped open desks and cupboards and taken off pictures
without uncovering any evidence. Rayenne had turned around, hands
on her hips, and shaken her head. There had been less personal
stuff than expected. Clothes, bathroom equipment and three pairs of
shoes, but no pictures of family or lovers, no computer or other
electronic hardware, no signs that he had lived there on a regular
basis. Rayenne had shared her concern that Sajitar might not have
lived there permanently, but her superior had dismissed the
argument with a wave of his hand.