"Except," I said, "with a fresh start."
"Exactly. We realized that there were people who needed to be rescued--and the only way to rescue them was to give them a new life. Professor Hume understood too. He had a person in his life that could have used a fresh start."
I thought about that. I wondered whether that "person" could very well have been Professor Aaron Kleiner.
"So we joined up," Jed continued. "We formed this group under the guise of a legitimate charity. My father was a federal marshal. He hid people in witness protection. I knew all the rules. I inherited that family farm from my grandfather. We made it into a retreat. We trained people how to act when they change identities. If you love gambling, for example, you don't go to Vegas or the track. We worked with them psychologically so they realized that disappearing was a form of suicide and renewal--you kill one being to create another. We created flawless new identities. We used misinformation to lead their stalkers down the wrong path. We added distracting tattoos and disguises. In certain instances, Todd performed cosmetic surgery to change a subject's appearance."
"So then what?" I asked. "Where did you relocate the people you rescued?"
Jed smiled. "That's the beauty. We didn't."
"I don't understand."
"You keep searching for Natalie, but you don't listen. None of us knows where she is. That's how it works. We couldn't tell you even if we wanted to. We give them all the tools and at some point, we drop them off at a train station and have no idea where they end up. That's part of how we keep it safe."
I tried to push through what he was saying, the notion that there was absolutely no way I could find her, no way that we could ever be together. It was simply too crushing to think that all of this had been futile from the start.
"At some point," I said, "Natalie came to you guys for help."
Again Jed looked down at the bed. "She came to Malcolm."
"How did she know him?" I asked.
"I don't know."
But I did. Natalie's mother had told her daughter about Archer Minor's cheating scandal and how her father had been forced to vanish. She would have tried to track her father down, so naturally Malcolm Hume would be one of the first people she would visit. Malcolm would have befriended her, the daughter of the beloved colleague who had been forced to disappear. Had Malcolm helped her father run from Archer Minor's family? I don't know. I suspected that he probably did. Either way, Aaron Kleiner was Malcolm's impetus for joining Fresh Start. His daughter would be someone he'd immediately care about and take under his wing.
"Natalie came to you guys because she witnessed a murder," I said.
"Not just any murder. The murder of Archer Minor."
I nodded. "So she witnesses the murder. She goes to Malcolm. Malcolm brings her to your retreat."
"First he brought her here."
Of course, I thought. The painting. This place inspired it.
Jed was smiling.
"What?"
"You don't get it, do you?"
"Get what?"
"You were so close to Malcolm," he said. "Like I said. He loved you like a son."
"I'm not following."
"Six years ago, when you needed help writing your dissertation, Malcolm Hume was the one who suggested the Vermont retreat to you, didn't he?"
I felt a small coldness seep into my bones. "Yeah, so?"
"Fresh Start isn't just the three of us, of course. We have a committed staff. You met Cookie and some of the others. There aren't many, for obvious reasons. We have to trust each other completely. At one point, Malcolm thought that you'd be an asset to the organization."
"Me?"
"That was why he suggested that you attend that retreat. He hoped to show you what Fresh Start was doing so that you'd join us."
I didn't know what to say, so I went with the obvious: "Why didn't he?"
"He realized that you wouldn't be a good fit."
"I don't understand."
"We work in a murky world, Jake. Some of the things we do are illegal. We make our own rules. We decide who is deserving and who is not. The line between innocence and guilt isn't so clear with us."
I nodded, seeing it now. The black-and-white--and the grays. "Professor Eban Trainor."
"He broke a rule. You wanted him punished. You couldn't see the extenuating circumstances."
I thought about how Malcolm had defended Eban Trainor after the party where two students had been rushed to the hospital for alcohol poisoning. Now I saw the truth. Professor Hume's defense of Trainor had been, in part, a test--one that in Malcolm's mind I had failed. He was right though. I believe in the rule of law. If you start down that slippery slope, you take all of what makes us civilized with you.
At least, that was how I felt before this week.
"Jake?"
"Yes?"
"Do you really know how the Minors found Todd Sanderson?"
"I think so," I said. "You keep some paperwork on Fresh Start, right?"
"Only on a web cloud. And you needed two of the three of us--Todd, Malcolm, or me--to access it." He blinked, looked away, blinked some more. "I just realized. I'm the only one left. The paperwork is gone forever."
"But there must be something physical you store, no?"
"Like what?" he asked.
"Like their last will and testament?"
"Well, yes, those, but they're kept someplace where no one can find them."
"You mean like a safety-deposit box on Canal Street?"
Jed's mouth dropped open. "How can you know that?"
"It was broken into. Someone got into the safety-deposit boxes. I can't say what happened for sure, but Natalie was still a huge priority for the Minor family. If you found her, it could mean big bucks. So my guess is, someone--the thieves, a cop on the take, whatever--recognized her name. They reported it to the Minors. The Minors saw that the box was taken out by a guy named Todd Sanderson who lived in Palmetto Bluff, South Carolina."
"My God," Jed said. "So they paid him a visit."
"Yes."
"Todd was tortured," Jed said.
"I know."
"They made him talk. A man can only stand so much pain. But Todd didn't know where Natalie or anyone else was. See? He could only tell them what he knew."
"Like about you and the retreat in Vermont," I said.
Jed nodded. "That's why we had to close it down. That's why we had to run away and pretend that there was nothing there but a farm. Do you understand?"
"I do," I said.
He looked back down at Malcolm's body. "We need to bury him, Jake. You and me. Out here in this place he loved."
And then I realized something else that chilled me to the bone. Jed could see it on my face.
"What?"
"Todd never got the chance to take the cyanide pill."
"They probably surprised him."
"Right, and if they tortured him and he gave up your name, it stands to reason that he gave up Malcolm's name too. They probably sent men to Vero Beach. But Malcolm was already gone. He came up here to this cabin. The house would have been empty. But these guys don't quit easily. They'd just found their first clue in six years--they weren't about to just let it go. They would have asked questions and pored through personal records. Even if this land was still in his late wife's name, they may have found this place."
I thought about all those tire tracks outside.
"He's dead," I said, looking down at the bed. "He chose to kill himself, and judging by the lack of decay, he did it very recently. Why?"
"Oh God." Jed saw it now too. "Because Minor's guys found him."
As he said those words, I heard cars pull up. It was so clear now. Minor's men had been here already. Malcolm Hume had seen them coming and taken matters into his own hands.
So what would they do about that?
They'd have set a trap. They'd leave someone behind to stake out the house in case someone else showed up.
Jed and I both rushed
to the window as the two black cars came to a stop. The doors opened. Five men with guns came out.
One of them was Danny Zuker.
Chapter 34
The men kept low and spread out.
Jed reached into his pocket and pulled out a pillbox. He opened it and tossed the pill inside to me.
"I don't want this," I said.
"I have the gun. I'll try to hold them. You try to find a way to escape. But if you can't . . ."
From outside we heard Danny call out. "Only one way out of this!" he shouted. "Come out with your hands up."
We had both ducked down to the floor.
"You believe him?" Jed asked me.
"No."
"Me neither. There's no way they're going to let us live. So all we're doing right now is giving them time to set up." He started to rise. "Find an escape route out the back, Jake. I'll keep them busy."
"What?"
"Just go!"
Without warning, Jed knocked out a windowpane and started to pull the trigger. Within seconds, return gunfire raked the side of the house and took out the rest of the window. Shards of glass fell on me.
"Go!" Jed shouted at me.
No reason to tell me a third time. I commando-crawled toward the back door. It was, I knew, my only chance. Jed started firing blindly, keeping his back against the wall. I headed into the kitchen, still moving low across the acrylic. I reached the back door.
I heard Jed let out a celebratory shout. "Nailed one!"
Great. Four to go. More gunfire. Heavier now. The walls were starting to give way, the bullets weakening and now penetrating the wood. From where I was, I saw Jed get hit once, then twice. I started back toward him.
"Don't!" he shouted at me.
"Jed . . ."
"Don't you dare! Get out now!"
I wanted to help him, but I could also see how foolhardy that would be. It wouldn't help him. It would just be suicide. Jed managed to stand. He was heading for the front door.
"Okay!" he shouted out. "I surrender."
Jed had the gun in his hand. He looked back at me, winked, gestured for me to keep going.
I glanced out the back window, preparing to make a break for it. The house was right up against a wooded area. I could go into those woods and just hope for the best. I didn't have another plan. At least nothing that would help immediately. I took out my iPhone and flipped it on. There was service. I dialed 911 as I looked out the window.
One of the men was in the back on the left, covering the door. Damn.
"Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?"
I told her quickly that there were shots being fired and at least two men hit. I gave her the address and put the phone down, keeping the line open. From behind me, I heard Danny Zuker shout, "Okay, throw the gun out first."
I thought that I saw a smile on Jed's face now. He was bleeding. I didn't know how badly he was hit, if his current injuries were mortal or not, but Jed knew. Jed knew that his life was over no matter what he did and with that, there seemed to come a strange sense of peace.
Jed opened the door and just started firing. I heard another man call out in pain--maybe another one of Jed's bullets had found its mark--and then I heard the hollow pop of automatic gunfire tearing into flesh. From my vantage point, I saw Jed's body fly backward, arms dangling overhead as though in a macabre dance. He fell back into the house. More bullets hit him, jerking his lifeless body.
It was over. For him and probably for me.
Even if Jed had managed to kill two of them, three would still be alive and armed. What chance did I have? I calculated the odds in nanoseconds. Almost zilch. I had one chance, really. Stall. Stall until the police could get there. I thought about how far out we were, about that drive up the dirt road, about not seeing any municipal-type buildings within miles of this place.
The cavalry wouldn't be arriving in time.
Still the Minors may want me alive.
I was their last chance to get information on Natalie. I could tap-dance a bit that way.
They were approaching the house. I looked for a place to hide.
Stall. Just stall.
But there was nowhere to go. I stood up and looked out the back door window. The man was there, just waiting for me. I sprinted across the kitchen and back into the bedroom. Malcolm hadn't moved, but then again I hadn't expected him to.
I could hear someone enter the cottage.
I threw open the bedroom window. What I was counting on here--and really it was my only shot--was that the man in back was watching the door. The bedroom window was on the side toward the right. From where the guy had been standing when I saw him from the kitchen, he wouldn't be able to see this window.
From the main room, I heard Danny Zuker say, "Professor Fisher? We know you're in here. It'll be worse for you if you make us wait."
The window shrieked when I opened it. Zuker and another henchman ran toward the sound. I saw them as I rolled out the window and started to sprint for the woods.
Gunfire erupted behind me.
So much for keeping me alive. I didn't know if it was my imagination or reality, but I could swear that I felt bullets nipping at my side. I kept running. I didn't turn around. I just kept . . .
Someone tackled me from the side.
It must have been the guy who'd been out back. He hit from the left, knocking us both down. I prepared a punch and delivered it hard to his face. He rocked back. I reeled back to deliver another one. Again it landed. He went slack.
But it was too late now.
Danny Zuker and the other henchman stood over us. They both pointed their guns down at me.
"You can live," Zuker said simply. "Just tell me where she is."
"I don't know."
"Then you're worthless to me."
It was over. I could see that now. The man who'd tackled me shook his head. He stood and grabbed his gun. There I was, lying on the ground, surrounded by three men, all with guns. There was no move I could make. There were no distant sirens coming to my rescue. One man stood on my left, the other--the one I had decked--stood on my right.
I looked up at Danny Zuker, who stayed a step back. I threw up one last Hail Mary: "You killed Archer Minor, didn't you?"
That caught him off guard. I could see the befuddlement on his face. "What?"
"Someone had to quiet him," I said, "and Maxwell Minor would never murder his own kid."
"You're crazy."
The other two men exchanged a glance.
"Why else would you try so hard to find her?" I asked. "It's been six years. You know she'd never testify."
Danny Zuker shook his head. There was something akin to sadness on his face. "You don't have a clue, do you?"
He raised the gun, almost reluctantly now. I had played my final card. I didn't want to die like this, on the ground beneath them. I stood up, wondering what my final move would be, when it was made for me.
There was a single gunshot. The head of the man on my left exploded like a tomato under a heavy boot.
The rest of us turned toward the sound of the gunshot. I recovered the fastest. Letting the lizard brain take over again, I dived straight toward the man I'd already punched. He was closest to me, and he'd be weakest from my earlier blow.
I could get his gun.
But the man reacted with greater speed than I anticipated. His lizard brain at work too, I guess. He stepped back and took aim. I was too far away to reach him in time.
And then his head exploded in another crimson haze.
The blood splashed me in the face. Danny Zuker didn't hesitate. He leapt behind me, using me as a shield. He wrapped his arm around my throat and put the gun against my head.
"Don't move," he whispered.
I didn't. There was silence now. He stayed close to me, moving us back toward the house to keep himself protected.
"Show yourself," Zuker shouted. "Show yourself or I'll blow his brains out!"
There was a rustling sound. Zuker je
rked my head to the right, making sure to keep my body blocking his. He turned me more toward the right--to where the rustling had originated. I looked out into the clearing.
My heart stopped.
Coming down the hill, gun still in her hand and aimed at us, was Natalie.
Chapter 35
Danny Zuker spoke first. "Well, well, look who's here."
My body had gone numb at the sight of her. Our eyes met--Natalie's and mine--and the world exploded in a thousand different ways. It was one of the most powerful experiences of my life, this simple act of looking into the blue eyes of the woman I loved, and even now, even with a gun to my head, I felt oddly grateful. If he pulled the trigger, so be it. I had, in this single moment, been more alive than any time in the previous six years. If I were to die now--and, no, I didn't want to, in fact, more than anything else I wanted to live and be with that woman--I'd die a more complete person, have lived a more complete life, than if I had died just a few moments earlier.
With the gun still trained on us, Natalie said, "Let him go."
She never took her eyes off me.
"I don't think so, sweetheart," Zuker said.
"Let him go, and you can have me."
I shouted, "No!"
Zuker drove the muzzle of the gun into the side of my neck. "Shut up." Then to Natalie he said, "Why should I trust you?"
"If I cared more about myself than him," she said, "I wouldn't have revealed myself."
Natalie kept her eyes on me. I wanted to protest. There was no way I would allow this exchange, but something in her look told me to keep still, at least for now. I thought about it. She was almost willing me to obey, to just let this play out the way she wanted.
Maybe, I thought, she wasn't here alone. Maybe there were others. Maybe she had a plan.
"Okay then," Zuker said, still hiding behind my body. "Put your gun down and I'll let him go."
"I don't think so," she said.
"Oh?"
"We bring him out to his car. You put him in the driver's seat. The moment he pulls away, I put the gun down."
Zuker seemed to be thinking that over. "I put him in the car. You drop your weapon and he drives off."
Natalie nodded again, still looking directly at me, almost willing me to obey. "Deal," she said.
We started toward the front of the house. Natalie kept her distance, staying about thirty yards back from us. I wondered whether Cookie or Benedict or some other member of Fresh Start was nearby. Maybe they were waiting by the car, armed, ready to take Zuker out with a single bullet.