Douglas Preston - Cold Vengeance

She stepped up to him and, with the tip of one finger, touched the cut on his cheek. Then she looked beyond him, to the east, and pointed.

He followed her gesture, gazing through the trees of the park and toward Fifth Avenue. There, framed by the stately buildings, rose a swollen, buttery moon.

“Look,” she whispered. “After all these years, we still have the moonrise.”

It had always been their secret: they had first met under the full moon, and in the brief years that followed they had made it an almost religious duty to be together and alone once a month, to watch the rise of the full moon.

This convinced Pendergast of what he already felt in his heart: this was indeed Helen.

JUDSON ESTERHAZY HAD KEPT A DISCREET DISTANCE from the couple and now took up a position in the eaves of the boathouse. He waited, hands in the pockets of his jacket, observing the peaceful scene. The violinist finished the waltz and segued smoothly into a sentimental rendition of “Moon River.”

His fears of the Covenant receded somewhat. They knew Helen was alive now, and they were very powerful, but in Pendergast he had found his own powerful ally. Now all would be well.

A dozen yards off, the last yachtsman had removed his model boat from the water and was taking it apart and putting the pieces into an aluminum case lined with foam cutouts. Esterhazy watched as Pendergast and Helen strolled along the verge of the pond. He felt, for the first time in his entire life, an immeasurable sense of relief — that finally he was finding his way out of the maze of evil in which he had been entangled since his earliest childhood memories. It had all happened so suddenly he could barely believe it. He almost felt reborn.

And yet, despite the bucolic scene, Esterhazy still couldn’t rid himself of that old, eternal sense of apprehension. He couldn’t say why — there was absolutely no cause for concern. There was no way the Covenant could have learned of their meeting spot. No doubt his unease was merely habit.

Now he began strolling behind the two, hanging back, allowing them a few moments of privacy. The Dakota was a short walk across the park, along well-frequented paths. But for now… Their murmured voices drifted back to him as they slowly made a circuit around the small pond.

As they approached the boathouse again, Pendergast reached into the pocket of his jacket. He drew a ring from his pocket: a gold ring, set with a large star sapphire. “Do you recognize this?” he asked.

A flush came over her features. “I never thought I’d see it again.”

“And I never thought I’d get the chance to replace it on your finger. Until Judson told me you were still alive. I knew, I knew , he was telling the truth — even when nobody else believed me.” He reached for her left hand, his limbs still trembling slightly, preparing to place it on her ring finger.

But as he lifted her arm, he paused. The hand was gone. Only a stump remained, a jagged scar running across its end.

“But why your hand? I thought your sister…”

“The whole thing went awry. It was a horrific disaster, too complicated to explain now.”

He looked back up at her. “Helen,” he said. “Why did you go along with this murderous scheme? Why did you conceal things from me — the Black Frame, Audubon, the Doane family, everything else? Why haven’t you—”

She lowered her arm. “Let’s please not talk about that. Not now. Later — we’ll have plenty of time later.”

“But Emma, your twin sister — did you know she’d be sacrificed?”

Her face turned very pale. “I only learned… afterward.”

“But you never contacted me, ever. How can I—”

She stayed him with her good hand. “Aloysius, stop . There were reasons for everything. It’s a terrible story, a terrible story . I will tell it to you, all of it. But this is not the time or place. Now, please — let’s leave.” She tried to smile, but her face was white.

She raised her other hand and wordlessly he slipped the ring onto the ring finger. As he did so, he glanced past her at the sylvan scene. Nothing had changed. Two distant joggers were approaching from the direction of the reservoir. A small child was crying, having gotten entangled in the leash of an excited Yorkshire terrier. The violinist was still sawing away industriously.

His glance fell on the last remaining yachtsman, packing up his boat, still clumsily trying to fit the pieces into his case. His hands were shaking, and despite the chill air Pendergast noticed a sheen of perspiration on his forehead.

A split second elapsed in which a dozen thoughts passed through Pendergast’s brain — speculation, realization, decision.

Keeping his movements unhurried and calm, he turned toward Esterhazy and made a casual gesture for him to join them.

“Judson,” he murmured. “Take Helen and get her away from here. Do it calmly but quickly.”

Helen looked at him in confusion. “Aloysius, what—”

Pendergast silenced her with a little shake of his head. “Take her to the Dakota — I’ll meet up with you there. Please go. Now .”

As they began to move away, Pendergast glanced toward Proctor, sitting on the bench a hundred yards off. “We’ve got a problem,” he murmured into the headset. Then he continued strolling along the edge of the pond, toward the yachtsman, still struggling with his case. As he passed, he paused, keeping one eye on Esterhazy and Helen, moving along the path ahead of him.

“Lovely boat,” he said, pausing. “Sloop or ketch?”

“Well,” said the man with a sheepish look, “I’m rather new to this, couldn’t tell you the difference.”

With a fast, easy movement Pendergast pulled his.45 and drew down on the man. “Stand up,” he said, “slowly. Keep your hands where I can see them.”

The man looked up at him with a curiously blank expression. “Are you crazy?”

“Do it.”

The yachtsman started to rise. Then, with a lightning movement, he yanked a gun from beneath his jacket. Pendergast dropped him with a single shot, the roar of the.45 ripping across the silence of the evening.

“ Run! ” he cried to Esterhazy and Helen.

Instantly, all hell broke loose. The two lovers on the bench leapt to their feet, pulling TEC-9s from their backpacks and firing at Esterhazy, who had taken off at a run, pulling Helen along by the hand. The automatic fire cut him down, Esterhazy clawing the air with a scream as he fell.

Helen stopped and turned. “ Judson! ” she cried over the commotion.

“Keep running!” Esterhazy half choked, half coughed, writhing in the grass. “Keep—”

Another clatter of gunfire raked Esterhazy, flipping him over onto his back.

People were running everywhere, crying and screaming. Pendergast dropped one of the lovers with a shot from his.45 as he raced toward Helen; Proctor had leapt to his feet and, with a Beretta 93R that suddenly appeared in his hand, fired at the other lover, who had dropped down behind the bench, using her fallen companion as cover. As Pendergast tried to get a bead on her as well, out of the corner of his eye he saw the bum rise from his cardboard bed, extracting a shotgun from the bushes as he did so.

“Proctor!” Pendergast cried, “the homeless man—!”

But even as he spoke, the shotgun roared. Proctor, in the act of pivoting, was physically lifted off his feet by the impact and slammed backward, his Beretta clattering to the ground; he fell heavily, twitched, then went still.

As the homeless man turned to fire at Pendergast, the agent brought him down with a round to the chest, punching the man backward into the bushes.