OUTSIDE ARBOÇAR
Carson, trembling, tries to shake the ringing out of her ears, but it doesn’t work. There’s no other pain; she’s not bleeding. After panting a few shallow breaths, she sits up.
Iris is flat on her back a meter or so from the hatch. There’s no obvious blood, but it takes only one bit of shrapnel to hit just the right place…
Carson scrambles to Iris’s side. Breathing, no wounds. Iris grimaces up at her. “Ouch.”
“Are you hit? Where does it hurt? What—”
“Rock’s a lot harder than grass. I slipped.” Iris struggles onto her elbows. “Aren’t you glad I played soccer and not, like, archery?” She gazes around, a bit dopey. Then her eyes get big. “Karl?”
Karl’s sitting against the parapet, cradling his left arm and muttering in German. Dareh fusses over him. “The cover hits him when it flies. His arm is broken.”
Carson blows out a relieved breath. “Lucky it’s only that.” She turns to Iris. “What the fuck, woman?”
“You may hate me,” Iris grumps, “but I’m not gonna let any more of my friends get turned into Swiss cheese.”
“You dumbshit.” Carson still wants to strangle Iris, but right now, Carson hugs her. “Thanks.”
She stands as Edik and Vicki approach. Vicki kneels next to Iris and hauls her into a tight hug. Edik gives Carson a wary smile. “Okay?”
Carson nods. “Scared about ten years out of me. Almost your age now.”
“That’s a shame.” They both glance at the hatch. “I’ll check.”
“Jesus, Edik. Let me do something.” Not that she’s anxious to see the mess that may be down there, or face down that last guy. She shrugs off the pack, pulls her Glock, then edges to the hatch and looks down.
She barfs.
Edik grimaces when he sees what Carson saw. “Well, he’s done.”
Carson, facing away from the hatch, wipes her mouth on her already filthy sleeve. She’s not shaking anymore, but baby dragons are eating her stomach. “Yeah,” is all she can think of to say.
“Let’s see who he was.” He climbs onto the ladder.
Carson’s stomach heaves again, but nothing comes out. “You’re going down into that?”
Edik stops halfway down. “Yes. I’ve seen worse. Have you ever seen what happens to people caught by a thermobaric bomb?”
“No.”
“Good.” He disappears into the hole. A few moments later, a wallet pops out of the hatch and lands near Iris’s outstretched legs. Relieved to have something to do, Carson sweeps it up and rifles through it. She pockets the almost four hundred euros. The pink-and-blue Russian driving license says the man in urban camo was Yuri Grebnev from Moscow. He had credit cards and a gym membership card. No photos of girlfriends, wives, or kids. Just as well.
Behind the plastic card holders, she finds a slot for business cards. She pulls the top one. Yuri I. Grebnev, Director of Physical Security, PJSC Zapadneft. The name’s familiar enough to trigger a thought. “Hey, Dareh—did you guys go after a company called Zapadneft?”
Dareh purses his lips for a moment. “Yes. It is a Russian oil company. Very corrupt. The directors are friends of Putin.”
The entire story crashes together in Carson’s mind. Kallström and Grupo Sabadell were simply pawns.
Vicki says, “Lisa…does that mean something to you?” Her voice is thin and worn out.
Carson doesn’t bother to turn around. “Yeah. This whole disaster started when you guys ripped off that company. They got that…mess on the landing to sic the Sabadell people on you. Iris’s side hustle gave them the idea to make it look like a drug thing.” She paces to where Dareh squats next to Karl and hands him the card. “Burn them down.”
Dareh studies the card, then nods grimly. “We will enjoy it.”
Carson, Vicki, Dareh, and Edik spend the next two hours in the slaughterhouse, erasing themselves. They pack their bags. They wipe their fingerprints off weapons and put them in the hands of dead men. They wash Carson’s vomit off the tower’s roof, and Iris’s off the staircase. Edik rigs up a field splint and sling for Karl’s arm.
Now Carson slumps on the least-damaged sofa in the living room. All her adrenaline is gone. She’s exhausted, hungry, morose, and disgusted. She’s sick of stepping over dead people. “Comfortable?”
Iris frowns at her from the wooden ladder-back armchair she’s duct-taped to. “I saved. Your life. Can’t you cut me some slack?”
“Because you saved my life, I didn’t throw you off the tower. Don’t push it. All this?” She waves her hand all around them. “You own this. It’s all on you.”
“I never meant for any of this to happen!” Iris’s voice gets louder and wobblier with each word. “Nobody was supposed to get hurt!” She starts to cry again.
“Yeah.” Carson can hardly look at her. Part of it is the betrayal; part is that Carson’s afraid of looking too long into the face of someone she liked, someone who could’ve been a friend, and losing her nerve. She drags herself off the sofa. “You’re a good storyteller. Think of a story to tell the Spanish cops. Don’t even think about blaming anybody else. Remember who Vicki’s dad is.”
“You…you’re just gonna leave me here? And Vicki’s gonna let you?”
“Yeah, and yeah. Not that I care much about Vicki’s approval.”
“But…but…just take me downtown, dump me at the train station. I’ll disappear. Please don’t make me go to jail. Please?”
It’s so tempting. She’s broke; Iris said Sebastian had laundered all her drug money and stashed it, but she doesn’t know where. All her stuff burned with the mansion. It would serve her right to end up homeless and on the run from whoever might go looking for her next.
But that means she’d get away with it. Iris is clever. She’d figure out a way to bounce back. Maybe do the same stupid shit she did this time. Maybe get more people killed.
Carson swallows the lump of pity floating up her throat. “Sorry. You broke it, you bought it.” She walks away before Iris says the right words to melt Carson’s heart.
Iris shrieks, “Don’t go! Please don’t go!”
Not the right words.
Carson steps into the courtyard. The Citroën, Edik’s silver Toyota RAV4, and the rental Audi Q7 crowd the driveway.
She paces to the Citroën. Dareh stands near the driver’s door, trying to look calm, but his hands won’t stop moving. Carson says, “You did good.”
He nods, but doesn’t look up from the gravel.
He’ll have nightmares for months. Maybe years. “Don’t stop at a hospital until you’re in France. Don’t ever come back here. Got it?”
“Yes.” He finally meets Carson’s eyes. “Where will you go?”
“Someplace else. You don’t need to know where.” She holds out her hand to shake. “You’re a good man. I hope you find someplace where you can be happy.”
Dareh shakes her hand, then tugs her into a one-armed hug. “Please take care of Vicki.”
“Don’t worry about her.” Carson pulls away and tries to smile. “Worry about yourselves. Get out of here.”
When the Citroën disappears down the driveway, Carson drifts to the Toyota. Edik leans against the driver’s door, his arms crossed, dressed for golf again. He lofts his eyebrows at her. “You don’t look happy.”
She snorts. “Look around this place lately?”
“You succeeded. You’re still alive. I’m still alive. Miss Baranova’s still alive, and you know where she is.” He nods toward the Audi.
“People who didn’t deserve to die did.”
He nods sadly. “That’s always unfortunate. And common. And not your fault, unless you’ve skipped telling me a lot.”
Carson stares at the open door to Villa 1. She’d tried to save Celeste and failed. Had she tried hard enough? And Sebastian—what was she thinking, putting a weapon in his hands and risking his life? Was it some weird, subliminal revenge thing? Was it her not thinking? He shouldn’t have died, and she put him in the line of fire. She’ll be seeing them both in her nightmares for a good, long time.
Edik gently squeezes her shoulder. “Lara?”
“There’s a lot I haven’t told you.” She heaves in a couple of deep breaths, then turns to face him. “Do you have to go home right away?”
“No. I didn’t tell Vlasenko how long it would take to rescue you.”
“Yeah. Rescue. I forgot. Um…I still owe you a nice dinner. And maybe…a long talk.” She thumbs over her shoulder toward the Audi. “I have to babysit her until Wednesday after lunch. She probably won’t be very good company. Stick around for a couple days?”
Edik smiles. “Gladly. You’ll need someone to talk to, someone who understands what you’ve just gone through.” He raises his right hand. “I volunteer. It’s the least I can do for my shield maiden.”
“Knock that shit off.” She doesn’t say it with as much heat as she thought she would. “I never want to see this place again. Let’s go.”