David Morrell - The Fifth Profession

Get control, Savage told himself. You're safe for the moment, and even if it's impossible to get to the restaurant by noon, six P.M. is a long way off.

Yes, that's what worries me, he thought. Anything can happen. If Hailey and his men are stubborn-and Savage assumed that they would be -we won't get out of here till dark.

And then?

We can't just walk out. We'll have to go over a wall. And in a city of twelve million Japanese with only a few thousand Americans living here, we'll attract as much attention, we'll be as conspicuous, as Godzilla.

Shit! Savage mustered the strength to subdue his increasing distress and turned yet again to Rachel. Leaves on her skirt. Dust on her cheeks. Dangling strands of auburn hair. Despite all those imperfections, she looked as beautiful… as spirited, angular, sharply featured, and glowing… as only Rachel could look.

I love you, Savage wished he could take the risk of telling her. Instead of violating silence, he leaned close and gently kissed the tip of her nose, tasting her dusty, sweat-salty skin. She closed her eyes, shuddered, reopened her lids, blinked nervously, and stroked his hair.

Remember, Savage told himself. Until this is over, she's your principal, not your lover. And Akira's waiting. Maybe. And Hailey's men are out there. Certainly.

So what are you going to do?

Move!

Savage gripped Rachel's elbows, kissed her…

And turned her, pointing toward the thickets beyond them.

She mouthed silent words. It took him a moment before he realized. What she'd silently told him… a familiar refrain…

Was…

I'll follow you to hell.

They squirmed through the mulch through the forest.

The park had frequent low hills. On occasion, thickets gave way to stretches of waist-high ferns, which Savage and Rachel avoided, anxious not to crush the ferns and leave a path in case Hailey's men managed to follow them. Staying among the trees, Savage took his bearings from the passage of the sun, imitating its movement, heading westward. He worried that when they reached a path, a sentry would see them rushing across it, but this section of the park was evidently extremely remote, for they never did reach a path. Though the temperature felt like low sixties, comparable to October weather in New England, he and Rachel sweated from exertion. Their dusty clothes snagged on branches. Rachel's skirt tore. Worse, because she'd been forced to kick off her shoes to be able to outrun Hailey and his men from the shrine, her feet-despite the mulch-became scratched and bloody. Savage took off his shoes and gave her his socks. He'd have let her have the shoes as well, but they were much too big for her and would have added blisters to her scratches. As it was, without socks, he developed blisters. Sometimes, where the mulch was too deep, he carried her. Their progress slowed. By one P.M., they slumped to the ground, exhausted.

“This park's enormous,” Rachel said. “And the Japanese claim they've run out of space. Not that I'm complaining.” She massaged her feet. “Hailey would have caught us by now if it weren't for…” She cocked her head. “Do I hear traffic?”

Savage focused his attention. The dense trees around them buffered sound, but beyond, it did seem… A rush of energy made him stand. “I'll check.” He made his way through the mulch and trees, smiled at what he saw, and quickly came back. “There's a wall about fifty yards ahead. We've reached a street.”

“Thank God.” At once she looked troubled. “But now what? Hailey's men are probably still looking for us. They'll assume there's a chance we'll go over a wall.”

“Whoever Hailey is, his reinforcements have to be limited. They'd need to be widely spaced to watch every section of the wall around the park. But you're right-as soon as one of them saw us, he'd radio for the others to converge. With your feet hurt, we couldn't outrun them.” Savage thought about it. “Let's follow the wall.”

With no basis for choosing one direction instead of another, he arbitrarily decided on north. The wall was high enough to conceal them, low enough for them to climb over if they needed to. As they moved along it, weaving past bushes, Rachel limping, Savage imagined Akira's unease if he'd been able to call the restaurant at noon. Failing to make contact, what would Akira fear had gone wrong? How would he react? What would he do until the next scheduled call at six?

The wall angled east, then north again. After sixty yards, Savage heard Japanese voices, tensed, crouched, peered beneath low concealing branches, and saw an east-west path. Traffic was louder. To the left, a gap in the wall formed an exit from the park, cars and pedestrians swarming past beyond it.

Savage scanned the exhaust-hazed street and squirmed backward through shrubs until he and Rachel could talk without being overheard. Overhanging boughs cloaked them with shadows.

“I didn't see any Americans,” he said. “Not that it matters. They wouldn't be in the open. For all we know, they're directly behind the wall at each side of the exit. Or in a van across the street. Or…”

“In other words, nothing's changed. We still can't get out of here.”

Savage hesitated. “Yes.”

“Then what do we-?”

“Wait for dark.”

Rachel's eyes widened. “Then we'll miss Akira's next call at the restaurant.”

“If we try to leave now, the odds are against us. Hailey's men… We'd be stopped. We'd never reach the restaurant,” Savage said. “I don't know why Hailey wants us so bad, but I'd sooner depend on Akira's patience than on Hailey's losing patience.”

“I feel so… Is this the way you normally live?”

“Normally? If you can call it that.”

“I've been with you for less than two weeks, and already I feel like I've been through several wars. How do you stand it?”

“Right now, after having fallen in love with you”-Savage swallowed-“I'm beginning to wonder. What I wish, what makes me want to keep going, is…”

“Tell me.”

“It's foolish to think about. A beach near Cancun. I'd like to take off your swimsuit. I'd like to make love in the surf in the moonlight.”

“Don't stop. Describe the feel of the waves.”

“I can't. What I mean is, I don't dare.”

“Make love to me?”

“Don't dare distract myself,” Savage said. “My love for you could make me so careless it kills you.”

“At the moment… How long did you say we had to wait?”

“Till dark.”

“Then there's plenty of time. When I close my eyes, I can hear the surf.”

She reached for him.

And she was right. When he closed his eyes, as they tenderly, languidly embraced, Savage could hear the surf.

Rachel slept while Savage watched over her. The shadows thickened. Near sunset, she wakened, beautiful despite puffy aftersleep.

“Now it's your turn,” she said.

“No, I have to…”

“Sleep,” she said. “You're no good to me if you're exhausted.” Her blue eyes twinkled.

“But suppose Hailey's men…”

Rachel gently removed the Beretta from his hand, and Savage-recalling last night-was well aware that she could use it. At the same time, he was also aware of the trauma she repressed. Her hand shook on the pistol's grip. With determination, she held the gun firmly.

“You're sure?” he asked.

“How else will we get to Cancun?”

“If something makes you afraid…”

“I'll wake you. Provided there's time and the target isn't obvious.”

Savage squinted.

“You're thinking I'll lose control again… shoot… keep shooting… and maybe for no reason.”