Perfect Assassin (12 page)

He scanned the material.

Holic and Mady Reznik had had one child. She was nineteen years old. She had black hair, brown eyes, weighed one hundred and ten pounds and stood five feet seven inches.

He pointed the blinking arrow to the first blank picture square and waited. When it came up, he saw Mady Reznik—a slight blond of average height. He moved on to the second picture, waited for it to materialize.

She
was standing outside in the snow, wearing black pants and a black sweater, a black stocking cap pulled low over her ears and forehead. Tall black leather boots hugged her slender legs. She held a German PSG-1 Sniper, and behind her in the foreground of the Austrian Alps was a firing range.

“Bull’s-eye,” Jacy spoke, not particularly happy with his discovery, but resigned. “Prisca Reznik.”

His houseguest finally had a name.

Chapter 10

“I
’m going to pull in to Browning and pick up the mail. You mind?”

Pris shook her head. She was just glad to be on the way. It had been harder to leave Moon’s house than she had imagined it would be. She’d said goodbye to the animals with tears in her eyes.

“That’s fine, Tate. Feeling better?”

“Not much, but you sure are pretty company for a sour belly.”

She had explained to him that she wanted him to drive her farther north. A place where she could be alone to think. He’d suggested a place called Cut Bank.

He turned into the post-office lot. “This will only take a few minutes. Whoever’s in town usually picks up the mail, and that’s usually me, if I’m thinking straight.”

He grinned, then pointed across the street to a small bar. Pris smiled back, remembering what Moon had said last night about the difference between him and his brother.
Tate enjoys life. I chose different.

She wondered what he’d meant by that. It was true he was much more serious than his brother. In fact, he acted as though he was the older of the two.

“Whatever you have to do,” she said, anxious to be on their way.

He got out of the pickup and went inside the post office, leaving his cell phone on the seat. Pris picked it up and shut it off, then laid it back down. She didn’t want to take any chances. If Moon got back early he might try to call his brother before she was safely away.

A few minutes later Tate was back, climbing into the cab, tossing the mail on the dash. He backed out quickly, and as he pulled into the nearby gas station, the mail slid off the dash and onto the floor next to her feet. As he left to gas up the truck, she picked up the mail. She hadn’t intended to snoop, but as she began to collect the mail she made a startling discovery. Two of the envelopes were addressed to J. M. Madox.

She checked the rest of the mail. Scanned the addresses. Koko Blackkettle and Tate Youngblood had the same post-office box, but the other two pieces of mail had been addressed to a separate box number.

Pris gripped her stomach as a sick wave of nausea washed over her. She tossed the mail back on the dash as if it had burned her, and sat there staring at it for a minute.

No, she thought. It can’t be true. They couldn’t be the same person. Moon couldn’t be Jacy Madox. But if the letters J.M. weren’t damning enough, why would Tate have access to Jacy Madox’s post-office box?

Tate had gone inside to pay for the gas. Pris opened the pickup door. She couldn’t breathe, and then she couldn’t swallow. She was afraid she was going to pass out.

It had started to snow, and she climbed out into the weather on unsteady legs. Shaking, she doubled over and wretched.

Jacy arrived at Koko’s cabin needing to speak to Tate. He’d called his brother’s phone a dozen times, and damn it, Tate had his phone shut off. He had hoped to find him home, but as he pulled into the driveway he saw his brother’s pickup was gone.

“I didn’t expect to see you today,” Koko said as she greeted him at the door.

“Where’s Tate?”

“I don’t know. He got a call earlier and left before noon. I think it was that cute waitress at the Sun Dance.”

“And you haven’t heard from him since?”

“No. But that’s not unusual. What’s wrong? You look like you’ve had your feet kicked out from under you. How about a cup of coffee?”

“I’ll pass on the coffee, but I would like to talk to you about the vision.”

His grandmother frowned. “Which one?”

“The plane crash. The night you left and went up on the mountain. Tell me what you saw. Everything.”

“What is it, Moon? Have you learned something about
sisttsi nan?
”

“Sit down.”

“All right.” She sat at the table, and Moon pulled out the chair across from her. “Start at the beginning and don’t leave out anything. From the time you saw the vision until the time you reached the plane.”

“I don’t see why this is important, but if—”

“It’s important.”

Koko got up and poured a cup of coffee, then tea for herself. “Here, you look like you could use this.” When she was back in the chair, her thin sweater wrapped around her frail shoulders, she said, “I saw the fire first. A ball of flames on the mountain. It called to me and I packed a bag and left. I wasn’t sure where to go, but I let the smell lead me.”

“The smell?”

“I could smell it burning, and I knew it wasn’t a wood fire. This was stronger, hotter. On the mountain I saw the flames.”

“When you found her, was she conscious?”

“No.”

“How far from the plane?”

“What is this all about, Moon?”

“Answer me.”

“She was several yards from the wreckage. I could see where she’d crawled away.”

If Prisca Reznik was able to crawl from the plane, then she could have buried her bag, Moon thought.

“And she was unconscious?” he asked again.

“Yes. Marty wasn’t anywhere in sight, and for a time I couldn’t get close to the burning airplane.”

Moon took a sip of coffee. “What did you do first?”

“I checked
sisttsi nan
to make sure she was alive, though I knew she would be. That’s why I was there. Why the vision came to me. I was sent to help her.”

“So you saw to her injuries, and then?”

“I built a fire to keep her warm.”

“When did she regain consciousness?”

“Hours later.”

“And she never moved. She didn’t get up?”

“No. Why?”

“Do you think she was capable of digging a hole?”

The question immediately made his grandmother uneasy, and suddenly Moon knew why.

He swore, then asked, “Did you dig a hole and bury her bag?”

“The vision—”

“Did you bury her bag?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because the vision was very clear at that moment.”

“Meaning?”

“I was there to help
sisttsi nan,
and that included protecting her as well.”

Jacy swore again then stood. “So you buried the bag. That means she believes the gun was lost in the crash.”

“She did not see me bury the bag.”

“At least that’s something.”

“She’s on a journey, Moon. She’s searching for her purpose. We must trust the vision, and where it leads her. I planned to tell you about the bag, I just wasn’t clear on when that should be.”

“She came here to kill someone,” Moon disclosed. “That’s her purpose.”

“I don’t believe that. She—”

Moon sat back down. “She came here to kill me.”

This time it was Koko who stood. She wrapped the edges of her sweater around her and turned to the kitchen window. “I don’t see evil around her.”

“Do you see evil around me, Grandmother?”

She turned from the window. “Of course not.”

“And yet you know I’ve killed many men.”

Koko looked away. “I’ve been a foolish old woman,
issohko.
I ask your forgiveness.”

“You know you have it. Is there anything else I should know?”

“Just that I believe
sisttsi nan
would never harm you.”

“Her name is Prisca Reznik, Grandmother, and she’s a trained assassin. She can shoot the eye out of an eagle in the middle of a nose dive.”

“What do you plan to say to her?”

“That depends on how soon I can find her. She’s taken off, and I think Tate’s with her.”

When Jacy returned home he went back to his office and called Pierce. It was time to tell his friend who he’d been spending his days and nights with for the past five weeks.

“We have to talk,” Jacy began, and then he dropped the bomb about his houseguest and what Billy had uncovered. By the time he was finished his throat was dry, and his mood had bottomed out.

“There were signs,” he admitted. “I should have seen them, but I was too busy looking at her from a man’s point of view.”

“I’m looking at her picture as we speak. She’s a beauty, all right.”

“That’s no excuse. I guess it’s true, I’m losing my edge.”

“That’s crap, and you know it.”

“I don’t know anything right now.”

“Are you saying you did more than just look at our little assassin while she was staying with you?”

Jacy wasn’t prepared to answer that, but he did anyway, in a roundabout way. “I’ve been up here over six months, Pierce. Over half of that time in a wheelchair. What do you think?”

“Enough said. So, do you think that seducing you was part of her game, or do you think she really doesn’t know who she is? That the crash is responsible for her memory loss?”

“There was no seduction. As far as her memory goes, I’m not sure yet. What reason would she have to keep me alive if she came here to kill me?”

“So you’re leaning toward memory loss?”

“I don’t know. Hell, she’s been living in my house for five weeks. She could have killed me at any time.”

“What should I tell Merrick?”

“Nothing. Not yet, anyway.”

“Want me to fly out there?”

“No. I’ll handle it on this end. But you could do something for me.”

“What’s that?”

“She spoke the name Otto. See what you can do with that.”

“Will do. Keep in touch.”

Jacy hung up the phone, then left the cabin. He wasn’t sure how long he would be gone so he called Koko on his cell and asked her to stop by and feed the animals tomorrow. Said he’d call her and check in if he had any news about Tate.

He headed toward Heart Butte. Koko had said that Stacy, the waitress at the Sun Dance, had called Tate that morning. He would start there.

He knew it was a gamble, heading for the Sun Dance, but when he saw Tate’s pickup parked out front, he almost let out a victory cry.

He parked and went inside. Tate was seated at the bar, a beer in front of him, engaged in a conversation with Stacy.

He declined a drink when she offered, then said to his brother, “You were at the cabin this morning. What for?”

Tate hesitated, then said, “Don’t get the wrong idea. I wasn’t there to step on your toes. We just talked.”

“Talked about what?”

“You. What happened last night? Whatever went on between the two of you really upset her.”

Jacy raised an eyebrow. “Meaning?”

“I think she’s in love with you, bro. She’s scared about her past, worried she’s gonna hurt you.”

“Hurt me?”

“You know, break your heart. Don’t pretend you don’t care about her. You got it bad, it’s all over your face.”

“Where is she?”

“She asked me to take her somewhere so she could think. Try to remember who she is.”

“Where, Tate?”

“I promised her I wouldn’t tell you. She said she needs time away from you. I think you should give her a few days.”

“There’s more here than I have time to explain. I need to know where she is.”

Tate frowned. “You saying she could be in some kind of trouble?”

“She’s in trouble, all right. Now where did you take her?”

“Cut Bank. The Star Hotel.”

Jacy turned to leave.

“You want me to go with you?”

“No.”

“Then what should I do?”

“Get drunk, climb in bed and stay there for a few days.”

“I can do that.”

“No surprise on this end.”

She was in love with the man who had helped kill her mother. The irony behind that continued to make Pris sick. She should be thrilled that she’d finally found Jacy Madox, but instead she wished she had never come to Montana.

She needed to try to separate her emotions from who and what she was. Otto had told her that thinking too much got you in trouble. But he was wrong. It was all about feeling too much, and letting your emotions rule your actions and your heart.

She tried to picture Jacy Madox as a monster, but the man she’d come to know and love was no monster.

Still, Moon and Jacy Madox were one and the same. He was the controller at Onyxx. She knew that now. She’d been in his office at the cabin. She’d seen all the equipment that made it possible.

Tate enjoys life. I chose different.

And that choice had been to become an Onyxx agent.

She should hate him. She needed to hate him.

She had to hate him.

Before Pris checked out of the Star Hotel, she tore open the lining in her bag and retrieved several thousand dollars and one of the fake IDs she had purchased in Edmonton weeks ago. Locating a phone booth, she looked for a car dealership, then walked to the address.

Numb from the cold and blowing snow, she entered the office of Thomas Auto. The place was empty except for a man who sat at a desk behind a high counter. Pris cleared her throat at the counter and the elderly man looked up.

“Can I help you, young lady?”

“I’m interested in buying a car…today.”

The word
today
brought him out of his chair.

“Ain’t been selling too many cars. Weather and all, folks around here prefer pickups. You see something special out there you like? I got—”

“I guess I shouldn’t have said car.” Pris turned and pointed out the window to the blue SUV in the middle of the lot. “That’s what I want.”

“Financing shouldn’t be a problem if—”

“I plan to pay cash.”

“Well that’ll do just fine. Parker Thomas at your service, young lady.”

He stuck out his hand and Pris shook it.

“Want to take it for a test drive?”

“No.”

Pris sat on the chair he pointed to, and when Parker Thomas pulled out the paperwork, Pris pulled out her fake ID. Within a half hour Denise Gordon drove off in a blue ’92 Ford Bronco, and headed south, back to East Glacier to a small hotel she had passed on her way to Cut Bank with Tate.

She wasn’t sure what she was going to do yet, but she knew it would have been a mistake to stay in Cut Bank. Knowing Moo—Jacy Madox, he would beat her location out of his brother if necessary.

She had no idea what Billy had found at the crash site, or what Jacy Madox would do with the information. He had experience on his side—years of experience. But she had memorized her father’s do and don’t list, had watched Otto in action over the past two months. She might be a novice, but she was also a fast study.