CHAPTER 33

With great concentration, Elena had vanquished her adversaries. She had taken the first man out by kicking him in the stomach. The second one had required an additional flurry of punches and a devastating uppercut, which had cracked his neck. With sweat dripping down her face, she relished this victory. But it was bittersweet. Was it because she had become aware of her own weakness? Because she dreaded ending her life stuck in a hospital bed? Illness and old age were agonizing prospects. Thanks to the miracles of science, she had escaped the first one, and she had hoped to avoid the second. Her current state, however, proved that nature would always win out. How ironic.

The pain bore into her skull. She felt nauseous and was having trouble navigating the basement hallways. Then she pictured her partner’s scarred back, which she had glimpsed in their hotel room in Prague. As intense pain shot through her head, she grasped the meaning of Eytan’s words. It’s our force of will that makes us indestructible. She pressed on, placing one foot in front of the other and leaning against the walls to keep her balance. At last, she arrived at the door leading to the outside. She wanted to finish the job once and for all.

Eytan was running as fast as his injuries would allow. He could feel the blood soaking his T-shirt, and it only increased his desire to destroy Woodridge. The latter had left the building and had scampered into the mazelike hedges in the park.

The Kidon agent disregarded the pain that hindered his breathing a little more with each stride. The narrow and convoluted walkways, however, soon caused him to slow down. He found it difficult, even impossible, to orient himself in the labyrinth of paths and plantings. Eytan doubted that Woodridge was doing any better. He decided to favor caution over speed, hoping he would find the way out before his opponent. And anyway, running too fast would only worsen his bleeding and render him even weaker.

Eytan finally came to a circular area about two hundred feet in diameter. A fountain set off by a double row of cheery trees was at the center. Water flowed from a tall piece of granite into a finely sculpted basin flanked by stone benches. The layout was perfectly symmetrical, giving the space a sense of timeless balance. The splashing of the water, coupled with the swooshing sound of wind flowing through the hedges, created a hypnotic musicality. The person who built this sanctuary was clearly a worshiper of nature, beauty, and peace. Woodridge was standing in front of the water feature, his back to Eytan, his arms dangling at his sides and his briefcase at his feet. He turned to face the agent, who was advancing slowly.

“Exquisite, isn’t it?”

Eytan stopped a few feet from him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so soothing,” replied the giant, the nose of his weapon pointing toward the ground.

“I’m surprised that a goon from a deadly secret-service organization would appreciate a place like this,” Woodridge said, directing his own weapon toward Eytan, who then raised his gun and pointed it at the man.

“And I’m just as shocked to see a terrorist marveling its beauty.”

“I’m not a terrorist,” Woodridge said. He was visibly offended.

The reaction underscored Eytan’s theory about the man.

“And I’m no goon,” the giant said.

“Have we gotten off on the wrong foot?”

“You tell me.”

“Perhaps it’s time for proper introductions? I’m Sean Woodridge, recently named president of the Shinje Corp. after the passing of Shinje-san. Before that unfortunate event, I was his second-in-command.

The man finished his sentence with a perfectly executed Japanese-style bow.

“Eytan Morg, Metsada agent, Nazi and war-criminal hunter, responsible for stopping your biochemical attacks.”

His introduction was not accompanied with a bow, which brought a smile to Woodridge’s face.

“Metsada?”

“Let’s just say it’s a special ops division of Mossad. But I’m actually here on a personal mission. It would take too long to explain.”

Eytan sat down on one of the stone benches. He opened his jacket to reveal the blood smeared across the right side of his polo. In a similar fashion, Sean exposed the wound inflicted by Elena’s gunshot and sat down on the opposite bench.

“To be honest, I didn’t think your intentions were purely terrorist in nature,” Eytan said.

“The Children of Shiro is anything but a terrorist group.”

“I figured as much after searching your office.”

“And what brought you here?”

“The black-and-white photo taken at Fort Detrick. Did you know you look exactly like your mother?”

“My father told me that all the time,” the man said.

“And he was right,” Eytan concluded. He stretched out his legs and allowed himself to relax a bit.

“So tell me, Sean. What or whom are you seeking revenge for?”