Vanish

“Wake her up,” he says to me. “We need to leave now.”

“Why?”

“They’re out there. They’ve been watching the house.”

“What?” I scramble to my feet, my heart suddenly thudding, and go to the window. All I see outside is the darkness of woods. Then I realize that the stars are fading, that the night will soon lift to gray.

“I think they’re still parked up the road. They haven’t tripped the next set of motion detectors yet,” he says. “But we need to move now, before it gets light.” He rises, goes to a closet, and takes out a backpack. Whatever the pack contains gives a metallic clank. “Olena,” he says, and nudges her with his boot. She stirs and looks at him. “Time to go,” he says. “If you want to live.”

He does not take us out the front door. Instead he pulls up floorboards, and the smell of damp earth rises from the shadows below. He backs down the ladder and calls up to us: “Let’s go, ladies.”

I hand him the Mother’s tote bag, then scramble down after him. He has turned on a flashlight, and in the gloom I catch glimpses of crates stacked up against stone walls.

“In Vietnam, the villagers had tu

We climb out of the tu

Finally, through the trees ahead, I see a tumbledown farm. As we draw closer, I can tell that no one lives here. The windows are broken, and one end of the roof has caved inward. But Joe does not go to the house; he heads instead to the barn, which appears to be at equal risk of collapse. He opens a padlock and slides the barn door open.

Inside is a car.

“Always wondered if I’d ever really need it,” he says as he slides into the driver’s seat.

I climb in back. There is a blanket and pillow on the seat, and at my feet are cans of food. Enough to eat for several days.

Joe turns the ignition; the engine coughs reluctantly to life. “Hate to leave that place behind,” he says. “But maybe it’s time to go away for a while.”

“You are doing this for us?” I ask him.

He glances at me over his shoulder. “I’m doing this to stay out of trouble. You two ladies seem to have brought me a heaping dose of it.”

He backs the car out of the barn, and we begin to bump along the dirt road, past the ramshackle farmhouse, past a stagnant pond. Suddenly we hear a heavy whump. At once Joe stops the car, rolls down his window, and stares toward the woods from which we have just emerged.

Black smoke is rising above the trees, billowing up in angry columns that swirl into the brightening sky. I hear Olena give a startled cry. My hands are sweating and shaking as I think of the cabin we have just left, now in flames. And I think of burning flesh. Joe says nothing; he only stares at the smoke in shocked silence, and I wonder if he is cursing his bad luck at ever having met us.

After a moment, he releases a deep breath. “Jesus,” he murmurs. “Whoever these people are, they play for keeps.” He turns his attention back to the road. I know he is afraid, because I can see his hands clenching the steering wheel. I can see the white of his knuckles. “Ladies,” he says softly, “I think it’s time to vanish.”

TWENTY

Jane closed her eyes and surfed the crest of pain like a wave rider. Please let this one be over soon. Make it stop, make it stop. She felt sweat bloom on her face as the contraction built, gripping her so tightly that she could not moan, could not even breathe. Beyond her closed eyelids, the lights seemed to dim, all sounds muffled by the rush of her own pulse. Only vaguely did she register the disturbance in the room. A banging on the door. Joe’s tense demands.

Then, suddenly, a hand closed around Jane’s, its grasp warm and familiar. It can’t be, she thought as the pain of the contraction eased, as her vision slowly cleared. She focused on the face gazing down at her, and she went still in wonder.

“No,” she whispered. “No, you shouldn’t be here.”

He cupped her face, pressed his lips to her forehead, her hair. “Everything’s going to be fine, sweetheart. Just fine.”

“This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”

He smiled. “You knew I wasn’t too bright when you married me.”

“What were you thinking?”

“About you. Only about you.”

“Agent Dean,” said Joe.

Slowly, Gabriel rose to his feet. So many times before, Jane had looked at her husband and thought how blessed she was, but never as much as at this moment. He carried no weapon, held no advantage, yet as he turned to face Joe, he projected only quiet determination. “I’m here. Now will you let my wife go?”

“After we talk. After you hear us out.”

“I’m listening.”

“You have to promise you’ll follow up on what we tell you. You won’t let this die with us.”

“I said I’d listen. That’s all you asked. And you said you’d let these people go. You may have a death wish, but they don’t.”

Olena said, “We don’t wish anyone to die.”

“Then prove it. Release these people. Then I’ll sit here and listen for as long as you want me to. Hours, days. I’m at your disposal.” He stared, unflinching, at their captors.

A moment passed in silence.

Suddenly, Joe leaned toward the couch, grabbed Dr. Tam’s arm, and yanked her to her feet.

“Go stand by the door, doctor,” he ordered. He turned and pointed to the pair of women on the other couch. “You two, get up. Both of you.”

The women didn’t budge; they just gaped at Joe, as though certain this was a trick, that if they moved, there would be consequences.

“Go! Get up!”

The receptionist gave a sob and stumbled to her feet. Only then did the other woman follow her. They both edged toward the door, where Dr. Tam still stood frozen. Hours of captivity had so cowed them that they did not yet believe their ordeal was about to end. Even as Tam reached toward the door, she was watching Joe, waiting for his order to halt.

“You three can leave,” Joe said.

The instant the women had stepped out of the room, Olena slammed the door shut behind them and locked it again.

“What about my wife?” said Gabriel. “Let her go, too.”

“I can’t. Not yet.”

“Our agreement-”

“I agreed to release hostages, Agent Dean. I didn’t say which ones.”

Gabriel flushed in anger. “And you think I’m going to trust you now? You think I’d listen to a goddamn thing you say?”

Jane reached for her husband’s hand, and felt tendons taut with rage. “Just listen to him. Let him have his say.”

Gabriel released a breath. “Okay, Joe. What do you want to tell me?”

Joe grabbed two chairs, dragged them to the center of the room, and set them down facing each other. “Let’s sit, you and me.”

“My wife is in labor. She can’t stay in here much longer.”

“Olena will attend to her.” He gestured to the chairs. “I’m going to tell you a story.”

Gabriel looked at Jane. She saw, in his eyes, both love and apprehension. Whom do you trust? Joe had asked her earlier. Who’d take this bullet for you? Staring at her husband, she thought: There will never be anyone I trust more than you.