James Patterson - Judge & Jury

Pavel swallowed."Yes, Father."

The boy left, and Nordeshenko turned back to the man at the door, feeling his every nerve grow tight."Are you insane? Come in, quickly," he said. He looked past Reichardt and up the street."Are you certain there was no tail?"

"Relax, Remi," the South African said."I've come through three countries. I've been doing this as long as you. You've got a nice-looking boy."

"It's not Remi here." Nordeshenko looked at him sharply."It's Richard."

Reichardt stepped in and whistled admiringly at the broad, spectacular view."Business must be good, Richard."

"Business is over," Nordeshenko said."And you better understand one thing clearly-my wife and son…"

"Don't worry," Reichardt said,"I won't be a burden. You said this was the quietest place in the world. It'll only be for a few days. Until the world cools down."

Nordeshenko didn't like this. It violated all the rules of the arrangements. But what choice did he have? There was no way to tie them to the States. No way to tie them together at all.

"All right," he said."Just a few days."

"Thanks," the South African said."But, Remi, you are mistaken on one thing."

"And what's that?" Nordeshenko asked, picking up one of Reichardt's bags.

" Our business." The blond killer sighed."It is never over."

THE LOUDSPEAKER CRACKLED."Delta Flight 8976 to Tel Aviv is ready for boarding."

I stood there waiting at gate 77, gazing down the terminal. My heart was racing pretty fast. I glanced at my watch. The plane was boarding. I had to get on it, with or without her.

Where was she?

Maybe she had second thoughts. That would be okay, I told myself. She'd be smart to stay out of this. She'd be smart to let me do what had to be done.

"All rows, Delta Flight 8976 to Tel Aviv."

I didn't have a precise plan. I had no idea how I was going to handle it when I got there. How could I? All I knew was that I was going to find Kolya Remlikov and somehow make him tell me where Cavello was. No professional courtesy here-no Geneva convention. I'd put the muzzle of my gun down his throat and cock the hammer. I'd blow off a kneecap if I had to. He would talk. The question was, then what?

A Hasidic family in black rushed past me onto the boarding platform, with loud shouts of relief. They looked to be the last ones on. I scanned the terminal. No sign. I put my travel case over my shoulder and went to board.

It was better this way, right?

Then I saw her. Hurrying toward me. Still a good ways down the corridor.

I felt a warm, glycerin wave of relief surge through me. Who are you kidding, Nick? You wanted her here very much.

Andie was wearing a red leather jacket, her hair tucked under a Knicks cap, Jarrod's cap, a travel bag slung loosely over her shoulder. She looked incredibly beautiful to me. And brave. I knew then I probably couldn't have done this thing alone. I wanted her with me. Andie made me believe it was right.

She stopped about two feet away.

"Let's get something straight." I tried to make a joke of it."If this was the altar, we'd be looking for a refund on the reception right now."

"I'm sorry, Nick. I had to say good-bye. To Jarrod."

That certainly shut me up.

She shook her head contritely."Actually, I've been sitting in the terminal next to the Burger King for the last hour."

"Second thoughts?"

"I don't know, maybe. Probably. But not about this. I love you, Nick."

I stood there looking at her, her eyes glistening. I nodded, gently placing my hand against her cheek."That's what I was thinking here. That I love you, too. That I might not be able to board that plane without you."

"I knew that's what you were bumbling around trying to say the other night."

The PA interrupted us-the final boarding call. We stood there another second. The ticket agents were getting ready to close the doors.

"So what are we doing?" I shrugged, shifting, unsure on my feet.

Andie stepped up to me, her eyes moist and strong. She locked her fingers in mine.

"Boarding. We're taking a trip together, Nick. Isn't it exciting?"

IF I DIDN'T KNOW for sure that I was in love with Andie DeGrasse, the flight to Israel removed all doubt. For much of it we just sat there, our hands locked. I felt something steady and unwavering running from her to me. Andie slept, her head leaning against my shoulder. She bolstered me. She gave me the courage to do what I felt was right.

Our first night in Tel Aviv was spent eating dinner in a quiet café on Shenkin Street, and fighting jet lag. Back in the room we made love, trying to forget-for a night, anyway-why we were here. In the morning we would drive up the coast to Haifa.

It only took about an hour and a half. We passed beach towns on the way up the coastal highway. The city's physical beauty surprised me. Haifa rose dramatically on steep mountain terraces above the gem-blue sea. Lowest was the port and the Old Town, with its ancient stone walls built by crusaders. Farther up was the busy downtown, the scents of bakeries, bazaars, modern businesses. Then higher still, the bustling heights of Mount Carmel, overlooking the Mediterranean.

Up here there were modern hotels, residential streets jutting out over the sea with posh homes and incredible vistas, boulevards of trendy restaurants and stores.

Kolya Remlikov was up here, too.

I was certain that Remlikov wasn't his name here. The name he went by now didn't matter. We dropped off our bags at the Dan Panaroma Hotel. Our twenty-fifth-floor room had a stunning view of the sea.

"It's beautiful," Andie said, gazing out the window.

"It is." I nodded. I placed my hands on her shoulders."Just remember why we're here."

"It doesn't mean we can't find time to take a swim in the Mediterranean."

"Go ahead." I picked a few things out of my travel case: a set of binoculars, a map, my gun, which was licensed."I'll be back in a little while."

"Nick"-Andie turned, a worried look on her face-“don't do anything without me. Promise?"

"Relax." I smiled."I'm just going sightseeing. I promise."

I had our rented Ford parked in front of the hotel. I got behind the wheel, then folded back the map. I had marked out this route many times in advance. I almost felt as if I actually knew the way.

Yehudi Street . 225.

I drove higher up the mountain, on Yefe Nof, a little way past the hotel. Up here was Carmel Center -parks, museums, trendy cafés. Farther up, the road began to loop in ever-narrowing switchbacks overlooking the sea. I turned onto Hayem, then Vashar. Up here, there were expensive homes with dramatic views. I kept on climbing higher. The road clung to the clifflike sides of Mount Carmel. The brilliant blue Mediterranean was a thousand feet below.

Finally I found Yehudi. It was a quiet, residential street with a spectacular view. Number 225 was a few houses down. It was a white, flat-roofed contemporary, down a short stone drive. As I passed it, I felt my blood run cold a little. I drove on to the next switchback, then stopped at a point where I didn't think I could be detected. I got out of the car with the binoculars and looked back down at the house.

Through the lens I could see an expensive house. Murder was always a business that paid handsomely. I didn't see anyone. I didn't see any activity inside. There was a blue minivan parked in the driveway, a European model.

I squinted through the lens.

After a few minutes, I knew I'd better move on. Someone would drive by. The area was affluent, probably well patrolled. I could always say I was up here for the view, but I couldn't keep hanging around.