Robert Ferrigno - Heart of the Assassin

Rakkim stared at her, saw the strength and certainty in her eyes. This was as close to an apology as he was going to get. He kissed her, his lips barely touching hers, kissed the rain from her eyes. "I love you."

"Rikki, don't be… Rikki? " called Sarah, but he was already gone.

Rakkim was leaning against the railing overlooking Niagara Falls when he heard them come in. Just after 2 A.M. A virtual beach, they called it. He also liked Point Break, East of Oahu and Lake Como, all previously selected by the Old One and accessible, but you really couldn't beat Niagara Falls for sheer power. A place for honeymooners, that's what they called it. Danger and power and beauty. Prelude to a marriage.

He had been there for over an hour, waiting, enjoying the feel of the cool mist against his skin, and thinking about Sarah. When he confronted her outside the embassy, he hadn't even been sure that the cross was fake. Had half expected her to deny it, and would have been happy to accept her answer. People want to believe, Rikki …She was right, as usual. Instead, she had told him the truth. A small blessing with a sharp edge. He watched the three of them enter the cube, the mist floating around them.

"It is him," said Gravenholtz.

"Don't act so surprised, Lester, it reveals your ignorance." The Old One strolled into the cube, dapper in a lightweight dark blue suit that followed his every movement. "I expected you yesterday, or the day before, Rikki."

"I got delayed in Las Vegas," said Rakkim.

"Well, you're here, that's all that matters," said the Old One.

"Yeah, he's here," said Gravenholtz. "Light the candles on my birthday cake."

Rakkim watched them through the haze, the waterfall crashing behind him. Seeing Gravenholtz made him miss his blade even more. The New Mandarin was the only hotel in the Republic fitted with the latest Swiss security filters, able to detect even a Fedayeen DNA knife. No knives, no guns, no explosives…the system screened for eighty-seven poisons and biotoxins too. One big happy family at the New Mandarin.

The Old One looked around, the breeze from the falls stirring his fine gray hair. "A good choice, but have you tried…" He fingered the remote, the falls flickering for an instant, revealing the actual enormous swimming pool at the center of the cube, before popping to a clear lake surrounded by black volcanic rock, stars everywhere, the night air instantly colder.

"Where are we?" said Rakkim.

The Old One kicked off his shoes, rolled his pant cuffs up and waded out into the water. "Lake Neruda, in the Andes. Elevation so high and the soil so acidic that there's almost no life in it…hence its spectacular clarity."

"Fuck the travelogue," said Gravenholtz. "Is he on board or not? Because if he's not, I want to take him out."

The Old One looked at Rakkim, rolled his eyes.

Rakkim laughed.

"Are you going to let me in on the joke?" Baby stood in the doorway in a low-cut party gown. Rakkim hadn't expected to see her. "Don't worry, Rikki, I don't hold a grudge."

Rakkim ignored her, turned to the Old One. "You have the piece of the cross?"

The Old One patted his chest. "Right next to my heart." He splashed Rakkim. "Come on in, the water's fine."

Rakkim took off his boots, splashed out beside the Old One, the water numbing his feet, the gravel shifting slightly under his bare feet. He looked back at Gravenholtz glaring at him from the shore, his features brutal in the moonlight, and Rakkim couldn't tell if he was in a swimming pool in Seattle or in a lake on the other side of the world.

"Why don't you go out there and keep them company, Lester?" said Baby.

"No thanks," said Gravenholtz.

"Realistic, isn't it?" The Old One went under, came up spitting a fountain into the air. Tiny insects buzzed around them, their wings silky in the sunlight. A dragonfly landed on the Old One's outstretched hand, drying its wings before flying away. "Three-hundred-and-sixty-degree technology, every sense taken into account."

They were in bright sunshine now, the water warmer, the beach composed of smooth, flat rocks instead of gravel. Wooden cabanas and snack stands loomed behind Gravenholtz and Baby, men and women in bikinis waiting in line for cold drinks, the signs in French. "This is Cannes, on the Riviera of my youth. It doesn't exist anymore…except here." He sniffed. "You can actually smell the salt air and crisped potatoes."

" Ask him," said Gravenholtz.

"Lester, honey," drawled Baby, "shut the hell up and let Daddy handle things."

Gravenholtz kicked at the rocks, sent a couple of them scudding into the water.

Rakkim watched the ripples approach, felt them.

"I'm afraid Lester has a point," said the Old One, wading farther out, the water at his knees. "I asked you once before to honor me with your allegiance. You declined then, but I was hoping you might have changed your mind."

Rakkim watched the vendor walking down the strand selling ice cream bars to the sunbathers from a tiny icebox, an African immigrant…his features reminded Rakkim of Moseby, and for an instant he wondered if the Old One had programmed the holo display for maximum upset. He waded out to where the Old One stood.

"Leo is such an interesting young man," said the Old One. "He looks at the universe like a child presented with a new toy he can't wait to unwrap."

"You've spoken with him?"

"Don't be scared, Rakkim."

"I'm not scared."

"I think if I treat Leo right…treat him with care, I think he's going to be incredibly useful," said the Old One.

"You're not going to get the chance," said Rakkim.

"Don't threaten me, Rakkim-it demeans you." The Old One dragged a hand in the water, let it trickle through his fingers. "I could have had you killed on many occasions. You and your family. Didn't you ever wonder why I kept you safe?"

"I had all these questions when I came here," said Rakkim. "I was going to ask if Amir had signed up for your two-bit caliphate, and how the war with Aztlan fit in with your long-range plans. I really wanted to know what the puzzle was supposed to look like." He reached into the water, picked up a large rock, threw it at Gravenholtz, who tried to duck…the rock shimmered as it went right through him and clattered onto the beach. "Now…now I don't care," said Rakkim, unnerved by how real the rock had felt in his hand. "Answers would be nice, but I didn't come here for answers. I came here to kill you and Gravenholtz. That's good enough for me."

The virtual beach flickered, the scene at Cannes winking out, and Rakkim glimpsed again the Olympic-size swimming pool. Then he and the Old One were on a fine, white sand beach at dawn, the air already humid. Rakkim could see Sugarloaf Mountain and massive high-rises dotting the hills behind them. Rio.

"Why don't you wait a while to kill us? It's such a lovely morning." The Old One took off his suit jacket, tossed it onto the sand. He spread his arms, eyes half closed, his diaphanous white shirt flapping in the warm breeze off the Atlantic. "Relax, Rikki, enjoy the moment."

"Wheeeeeeee." Baby raced past them and high-stepped into the surf, completely naked, her white ass flashing in the sun as she dove in.

Rakkim looked back, saw her clothes strewn on the beach. Gravenholtz sat on the sand, knees clasped, glaring at him.

The Old One sat in a canvas lounge chair as Baby frolicked in the waves. "She's amazing…and even more beautiful than her mother." He drew on a sketchpad with a fountain pen-the breeze whipped his shirt, exposing the piece of the cross hanging around his neck on a silver chain, most of the tiny white flowers gone now. "Baby is part of the offer, Rikki," he said, not taking his eyes off her as the pen flew over the pad. "You can marry her with my blessing."