Shattered Bone (31 page)

How long had Richard been trying to get to a phone? From P'yongyang to Kiev to Helsinki, he had only one thing on his mind. It wasn't a huge undertaking. It shouldn't have been a big thing. All he wanted was three minutes of time with a telephone and an international operator. But he now recognized that had been one of his biggest mistakes. He had never realized how closely Morozov would control him, once he had him back under his wing. He had assumed that he would be trusted. And given a little leeway. A little freedom.

How wrong he had turned out to be.

Come on you guys, where are you? he thought, as once again he stared at the phone.

LONE PINE, CALIFORNIA

It was early morning when Nadine pulled Jesse from her bed, dragged her by the hand into the cabin's tiny kitchen, and sat her at the kitchen table. After three days of lying on her bed in the darkness, without eating, without responding in any way to their presence, Jesse was worrying Clyde and Nadine. If things didn't go well, if anything happened to Jesse on their watch, they would pay a terrible price. The foreigner had been very specific. Keep track of her. Keep her in the cabin. And don't hurt her in any way.

But something wasn't right. For the past seventy-two hours, Jesse had done nothing but toss in a restless sleep. Her skin appeared cold and clammy, her hair drenched in sweat. Clyde had been wakened at four in the morning to the sound of her retching. Huge, gasping, dry, wrenching heaves.

They needed to keep her alive. And to keep her alive, she needed to eat. Clyde was in the small kitchen, waiting, already sitting. As Jesse was shoved up to the table, she noticed the 9mm pistol holstered over Clyde's left hip.

Jesse sat down. Clyde pulled out a long, black nightstick and placed it on the table next to his plate, just out of Jesse's reach. Its thin leather wrist-strap dangled over the edge of the table. On the chair, between him and Jesse, was a long cord of rope. Jesse recognized it immediately. She could see faint smears of blood smattered throughout the length of the rope from where they had tied up her wrists. With a barely perceptible motion, Clyde caught Jesse's eye as she glanced down at his gun. He nodded his head toward the stick and rope while raising an eyebrow. The meaning became very clear. “Make any moves, do anything funny, and I'll whack you on the head with my stick. Then I'll tie you back up to your bed. It won't be fun. It will be painful. So sit still, girl, and do what I tell you to do.”

Jesse looked at the floor.

The woman had made an enormous breakfast; ham, eggs, pancakes, blueberry muffins, toast, and hot cereal. The kitchen smelled like a House of Pancakes. A huge plate of food was set before Jesse.

“Eat something, you idiot!” the man ordered. Jesse sat without moving. The man made a sudden motion toward her, lifting up in his chair, raising the back of his hand, his face a picture of contempt. Jesse flinched.

“Stupid woman. Why won't you eat?”

Jesse turned her face away, shielding it with her shoulder. The man sat down with a huff. Jesse looked down at the food. Her stomach ached from hunger. Her arms felt heavy and weak. Her mouth started to water. Oh, how she wanted to eat! The pit in her stomach began an insistent growl, begging to be nourished, reminding her of the many hours since she had eaten anything of real substance. The smell of ham and maple syrup overwhelmed her. It smelled so good. So sweet and warm.

It had been three days since Jesse had eaten. Although the man had brought her a small tray of cold cereal and toast every morning, she would only pick at the food. She never ate more than a mouthful, keeping her hunger at bay. She would take the glass of water, and when Clyde wasn't looking, pour it onto her pillow. The foam pillow soaked up the water like an enormous sponge. Later, she would use the trapped water to moisten her face and hair, making herself look matted with a clammy sweat.

Jesse looked down at her food and rolled her eyes. Clyde stared at Jesse for a moment. Nadine busied herself at the stove, preparing her own breakfast plate. Jesse sat motionless at the table, her face pale and emotionless, her eyes glued to the pancakes on her plate. Clyde looked away, paying her no more attention as he focused on his own breakfast.

Jesse's heart was beating wildly. Her nerves were wired, tight as steel, raw as bone. This might be her chance. Her only chance. She couldn't wait any longer to act.

Very slowly, Jesse lifted her left hand from her lap and began to explore the underside of the kitchen table. It was made of rough pine and square nails. The top of the table had been sanded smooth. The bottom had not. It was rough as newly timbered wood, splintered and uneven. It bristled with sharp and tattered edges. Jesse carefully felt around with her fingers, running them along the edges of the wood until she found what she was looking for. She touched a sharp piece of wood, pointed and jagged, but fairly strong. This would do.

She took a quick glance at Clyde and Nadine. Neither of them paid her any attention. Clyde poked at his ham with his fork.

Jesse took a quick breath and held it. Her heart raced. The muscles in her chest drew tight. Her mouth went dry. Another quick look at her captors. She touched the splinter of wood once again.

With a jerk, she jammed her finger against the sharp spur. She smothered a wince of pain as she felt thick drops of blood forming on the tip of her finger. She took another deep breath and held it, then rolled her eyes back into her head, moaned once, and bit down hard on the inside of her cheek.

She rolled off the kitchen chair with a groan, her body shaking violently, uncontrollably, her eyes wild. She chewed on her cheek once again as red spittle dripped from the corner of her mouth. She quickly jammed her bleeding finger into her left ear, squeezed it tight, then dropped her hand down to her waist, shaking with a violent seizure.

Clyde watched her fall to the floor. For a fraction of a second he remained unimpressed. Then he saw the blood. It spat from the corners of her mouth. It dribbled from out of her ear. It smeared all over her face as she jerked around on the floor. He saw the gaping, unseeing eyes as they rolled back. Jesse's neck twitched violently and she smashed against the corner of the kitchen table, causing a gash across the right side of her forehead.

He stared down at the quivering and moaning girl, completely confused. He had no idea what to do. It was Nadine who finally sprang into action. Bounding around the kitchen table, she threw herself onto the floor next to Jesse and wrapped her arms around her shoulders and neck in an attempt to keep her from bashing her head against the hard wooden floor. “Don't just sit there,” she screamed. “Do something!”

“What! What should I do?”

“I don't know ... get a pillow!” Nadine screamed again. Jesse pushed and pulled against the woman's weight. She moaned and wailed and cried. Bloody spit flew everywhere. Her teeth began to chatter and her eyes rolled back again, leaving only the whites exposed under thc eyelids.

Then suddenly, just as quickly as it had began, she went perfectly limp. Her arms dropped to the side of her waist, her legs flopped out across the floor, her head dropped to the side. Every muscle in her body turn to liquid. Her dark eyes stopped rolling, but didn't close. They stared, unseeing, perfectly blank, brown and tearless. She didn't move. She hardly breathed, her chest rising in desperate and shallow gasps.

Nadine released Jesse. “What do we do? We can't just take her to the hospital!” she cried.

Clyde stood and ran from the room. The cabin's only telephone was in the living area, on the other side of the huge rock wall that separated the two rooms.

“I'll call Morozov. I'll call the foreigner. He's got to know. We've got to tell him. Let him decide what we should do.”

Nadine reached down and placed her face next to Jesse's nose and mouth. She was still hardly breathing. She felt for her pulse at the side of her neck. She couldn't find it. She didn't really know where to look.

“I think we're losing her!” she called out to her husband. “Stupid, stupid, girl!” Nadine sobbed in frustration as she sat herself up on the floor, wiping the spit and blood from her arms against her denim blouse and brushing her hair from her eyes.

From the next room Clyde began to yell. “Where is his number? Where is it? How do I get a hold of Morozov?”

“It's by the phone. No, wait ... it's in my purse. I think. He called two nights ago and gave you the number. You idiot, I think you put it in my purse.”

Jesse lay perfectly still on the floor, her breath coming in short, gurgling gasps. A tiny dribble of red saliva still dripped from the corner of her mouth. Every few seconds, her left foot would twitch. Nadine was genuinely scared. Not that she cared about Jesse. Her life wasn't worth a flying wad of spit. But they had been told that they had to wait before they could kill her. He had been very explicit. Keep her alive until I tell you otherwise. And based on what little she knew of the man and his friends, Nadine had a very good idea what the foreigner would do to them if they let her die before it was time.

“Did you find the number?” she called into the other room, fighting the fear in her voice.

“No! It's not here! You've got half a million pieces of junk in your purse. You come find it! I'm telling you, it isn't here!”

Nadine pushed herself up from the floor and ran from the room.

Within two seconds, Jesse was out the kitchen door. She leaped over the patio railing, dropped the four feet to the forest floor and raced off into the woods, cutting across the hillside, dodging behind thick pine trees and white aspens, wiping the tears and blood from her eyes as she ran. She slanted her path slightly upward, knowing neither Nadine nor Clyde had the physical ability to follow. Not through the brush and trees. Not uphill. Not in the thin mountain air. Under the best of conditions, neither one of them could have kept up with her for more than twenty yards. In the forest, they didn't stand a chance.

But then again, they both had guns. That was worth far more than a few extra yards.

By the time Jesse was thirty paces into the forest, she had already faded from view. Ten seconds later, she had completely disappeared. Only the distant crack of an occasionally broken branch gave any indication of where she had run.

Clyde and Nadine spent only ten seconds looking through Nadine's purse before Clyde ran back into the kitchen to check on the girl. He scrambled around the huge stone wall and stopped dead in his tracks. The girl was gone.

His eyes darted around the kitchen. He started to scream as he pulled his 9mm from his shoulder holster. He ran out the screened patio door and onto the patio, gun in hand, held in the ready position. He would kill her before he would let her go! He searched wildly through the thick forest of trees that surrounded the cabin. Nothing. He ran down the patio steps and began to scramble through the trees, running left and then right, jerking his way through the forest.

He stopped to listen. Nothing. No sound at all. He ran deeper into the woods, peering through the trees. His heart pounded like a sledge-hammer, his head beating with every pump of his heart. Perspiration dripped into his eyes. He stopped to listen once again, leaning against a small tree.

Forty yards behind him, he heard the screen door slam open and shut. “What have you done?” he heard Nadine screaming. “You idiot, what have you done?”

“
Shut up! Shut up and listen!
” Clyde cried out. Nadine fell silent. Clyde peered through the brush.

There it was. A brittle snap from a tree limb. Then the quiet rustle of leaves. He turned to his right and headed up the side of the mountain. She was there. She couldn't be far. He only had left her for just a few seconds. He ran another twenty yards, then stopped again to listen. Another quick rustle of leaves. He turned and waved his arms, beckoning Nadine to follow, and ran another thirty steps up the hill.

Then he saw her. Forty yards into the forest and directly off to his right. She had crawled up under a thick mulberry bush. She was laying down, her head facing the top of the mountain, her back toward Clyde, her body completely obscured by the leaves. Only her shoes and bare ankles lay exposed on the downhill side of the green, leafy bush. But they were plainly in view. The sweat poured down his back. Glancing around, he looked for Nadine. She wasn't there.

He lifted his 9mm pistol to the fire position, holding it steady with both hands, his arms fully extended out before him. He carefully aimed, then slowly pulled on the trigger. His hands bounced into the air, still clasped together, as the force of the recoil made its way through his arms.

The silencer uttered a muffled
thong
. A tiny explosion of dirt and dry leaves bounced into the air, barely twelve inches from Jesse's exposed feet.

“I see you, Jesse,” Clyde called out.

He raised his pistol and fired off another shot. It too impacted the dirt with a quick and silent
thump
, just a fraction above Jesse's ankle. The leaves of the mulberry bush rattled and shivered, but still, Jesse didn't come out.

“I see your feet.” Clyde took a few steps toward the shaking bush. “I see your feet. You're too tall to hide them. Now watch as I blow one of them off. You're not going to run away from me, Jesse. You'll never run or walk ever again!”

Clyde raised the pistol for the last time. He was completely serious. He would shoot off one of her feet. He was tired of screwing around with the girl. This job was over. He was going to kill her and be done with it. Screw Morozov. Let him take care of his own problems. He had already been paid half of the money. That was enough. This job was done.

He aimed the pistol, placing Jesse's left ankle in the center of the sights. He held his breath and began to slowly squeeze on the trigger. From under the bush, he could hear Jesse sob.

With a sickening thump, he felt the bullet pass through the back of his left shoulder and out the front side, exploding blood and muscle and cartilage through the air in front of his face. A searing pain and burning sensation cut through his back and made its way up his spine. Every ounce of breath was knocked from his body, and he immediately slumped to the ground, his face mashing into the dry and rotting leaves. He gasped and rolled and cried for breath as the blood spurted from a splintered hole, just half an inch above his left collar bone.