The Leveling

“So they mentioned. The whole Central Eurasia Division’s been on heightened alert ever since. I’m sorry, there isn’t a thing I can do about it. You know the drill.”


Mark took a moment to think before saying, “Well, then that’s it. I’ve been recalled, I’ll go to Washington.”

“Thank you for your understanding.”

“The only thing I would ask is that you extend me the courtesy of allowing me to retrieve my belongings prior to departure.”

Thompson smiled weakly. “I’m sure I can arrange to have them picked up. You’re not staying here?”

“I flew in this morning and hoped to catch a flight back to Almaty this evening.”

“Hmm…”

“I left my bags with a German expat who manages an Internet café downtown. He did some work for me in Baku a few years back. I stopped in to see him.”

“Are you talking about the Matrix?” asked Thompson.

“That’s the place. My man won’t release my bags to anyone but me. I have some sensitive documents with them.”

“Wouldn’t you carry sensitive documents with you?”

“No.”

Thompson waited for Mark to elaborate. When it became clear that Mark had no intention of doing so, Thompson scratched his temple and said, “Well, why don’t we pick up your bags on the way to the airport.”

“When do we need to leave?”

“Now. Langley was clear on that point. Find you, deliver the message, bring you to the airport, and watch you get on the plane. I’ve got to call in the flight info. They’ll probably have an escort waiting for you at your first connection.”

“Such trust,” said Mark.

“It’s not about trust—”

Mark checked his cell phone. “I just need to make a few calls first. To cancel the appointments I’d made for the day. Daria, I don’t have much of a signal here. What about you?”

Daria checked her phone. “I’m good.” She tapped a code into the touch screen, unlocking it. “Here.”

Mark took it from her. Then he looked at Thompson and Holtz and Daria. “If you don’t mind? A little privacy would be nice.”

Thompson looked as if he did mind.

“Don’t worry, William. I won’t run.”

“I’ll wait for you right there.” Thompson gestured to the entrance doors, which were just across the lobby. “Please, don’t take too long.”

After Holtz and Daria left with Thompson, Mark took Daria’s phone and checked the time—it was a little after ten in the morning. He e-mailed [email protected] a message: Dear John, noon at the mosque won’t work. Instead meet me in twenty minutes at the Arch of Neutrality.

Then Mark dialed the number for Daria’s cell phone—the one in his hand—and left her a voice message telling her what the new plan was and what he wanted her to do.

As he was exiting the hotel, he handed Daria her phone. “Someone tried to call when I was using it. I think they left a message.”





29




JOHN DECKER’S HALLUCINATIONS included visions of the vast north woods of New Hampshire, of swimming through the air and then floating over the trees, of finally being able to realize his boyhood dream of flying. Below him he saw the house where he grew up, his dad splitting firewood by the woodshed, his brother cranking up the ATV for a Saturday ride. He was soaring with the turkey vultures, circling and tipping his wings. A breeze started to blow, which gradually turned into a gale.

The winds blew him off his house. Soon he lost the ability to steer and struggled even to stay aloft. He was blown over the state line, northeast into the vast stretches of forest in Maine. There were no more houses below him, and as he was pushed farther north, he began to see patches of snow. The air was cold. He began to shiver.

You are a Navy SEAL. Navy SEALs don’t give up.

And you are not in New Hampshire.

The gale was pushing him toward Canada with phenomenal velocity. The Arctic would soon be below him. He should have dropped to the ground in the forest. At least there he would have had a chance.

You are cold because you are in shock. Control your body. Control your emotions.

The brief glimpse Decker had caught of the mountains when he’d fought his way out of the trunk of the car had hurt him as much as the beatings he was taking. They were so steep and so bare. There’d been nothing out there—no color, no comfort. Those were mountains where you went to die.

He needed trees and streams and moss-covered rocks. He needed laughter at the kitchen table with his mom and dad and brother and sister.

Don’t give up on yourself, asshole.




Decker woke up choking on mud. He felt the damp ground beneath his naked body. When he tried to push himself up, a pain like needles being stabbed into his fingers caused his whole body to seize up. He moaned and rolled to his side. Everything smelled rotten and damp.