Cause for Alarm

It wasn't too late for Julia

But first, Clark Russell would pay for his crime.

John stood and started down to the river. He picked his way effortlessly and nearly soundlessly over the rocks and through the dense underbrush. His breathing elevated, but only slightly; the oxygen fed and readied him, as did the adrenaline coursing through his bloodstream.

Killing wasn't personal. It shouldn't be. Get in, do the job as quickly, as impersonally as possible, and slip away. That was the way he had been trained; his ability to do just that had made him one of the Agency's most efficient specialists; it had earned him the code name Ice.

But this was different. John narrowed his eyes, closing the distance between himself and the other man, hatred burning in the pit of his gut. Clark had crossed the line; he had made this personal. A gunshot to the back of the head wasn't good enough; neither was the garrote or the blade.

No, John wanted him to know what was happening, who was killing him. And why. He wanted to look into Clark's eyes as the life faded from them.

The rush of the water masked the last of his approach. John disabled Clark with a sharp, edge-of-the-hand chop to the back of his neck. A bird screamed overhead. The man dropped to his knees, then onto his side. John delivered another blow, this one with his heel to the solar plexus, followed by one to his kidneys. Sprawled flat on his back, Clark looked up at him, conscious but completely immobilized.

"Hello, Clark." John smiled at the fear that crept into the man's eyes. The fear of death, the certainty of it. "You crossed the line. You put your nose in my business. That made it personal. Now you have to pay."

He brought his heel down again, but this time in a crushing blow to the man's larynx, finishing the job. It took little more than a nudge with the toe of his boot to tumble Clark's remains into the water.

John watched the body bobble on the water as it was swept downriver.

Part V. The Open Door

7

Julia

She had driven by one of the clinics, had seen the protesters out front, waving signs and holding up posters. Ones with pictures of mangled baby parts, pictures of bloody appendages and torn, mutilated flesh. The images had made her feel ill. They had frightened her. She had heard horror stories about botched abortions.

She had to have this baby.

But she didn't have to keep it.

So here she sat, in Citywide Charities' comfortable waiting room, hands clenched in her lap, silently rehearsing what she would say to the social worker she had spoken with on the phone.

She wouldn't tell her the truth, of course. Not the whole truth, anyway. She wouldn't tell her about John, or about pla

No, her story would be a familiar one, one the woman had probably heard dozens of times before. She had slipped up and gotten pregnant; she didn't know who the father was; she had no one to turn to for support and didn't want to be a mother. Period.

"Hi. You must be Julia

Julia

"I'm Ellen Ewing, Citywide's director."

"Hi." Julia

"Why don't we go to my office and chat?" She motioned toward the hallway directly across from them. "Madeline," she said to the receptionist, "hold my calls, will you?"

Ellen made small talk, mostly about the weather, as they made their way down the hall. They reached her office, a peach-and-teal affair, and she motioned Julia

"Juice? Soft drink? Bottled water?"

"Orange juice?"

"Got it." Ellen picked up the phone, buzzed Madeline and asked her to bring an OJ and a Diet Coke, then turned back to Kate. She laughed, only slightly self-consciously. "I'm addicted to Diet Cokes. I drink them all day, I'm afraid. With this figure, you'd think I was drinking the sugared variety." She sighed. "It sometimes seems that the less I eat, the bigger I get."

Madeline appeared at the door with the refreshments. While Ellen retrieved them, Julia

Ellen handed Julia

"Your kids?"

"In a ma

"All of them?" Julia

Ellen smiled, skimming her own gaze over the wall of smiling faces. "They're all special to me. Almost as if they're part mine." She turned back to Julia

She popped open her can of soda. "I don't want you to feel pressured. We don't just place children and babies for adoption here. Bringing families together also means helping women decide if they want to parent. If that's what you decide to do, we won't be angry or disappointed. We won't pull our support. Quite the contrary, we will do whatever we can to help you in your decision. We only ask that every step of the way you're honest with us about your feelings and plans."

"That sounds good to me." Julia

"Your mind is made up? You want to give your baby up for adoption?"

"Yes. Definitely."

A small frown marred Ellen Ewing's brow, then disappeared. "Why don't you tell me a little about yourself."

So Julia

"And the baby's father?" Ellen asked when Julia

"I don't know who the baby's father is."

Ellen was silent a moment. "You're sure? Because in this state, the father has to sign off on the adoption. Even if the baby's already been placed with a family, if a man shows up claiming and able to prove paternity, he'll have the right to the child. You can imagine how painful, how destructive that would be to all involved."

Don't defy me again, Julia