Rakkim’s grip on the knife kept slipping. Not too far to make the throw. Surprise the assassin. Fedayeen never threw their knives. The lesson drilled in from the first day. A thrown knife kills one. A knife kept close…a knife in the hand can kill hundreds. Wisdom there…but not now. Rakkim clung to the knife, fighting to stay awake.

A peckerwood in the Carolinas had taught him how to throw a blade. William Lee Barrows. Sergeant, First Carolina Volunteers. Fine man too. Not many of the old-timers left. He had been happy to teach Rakkim his tricks after work at the plant, the two of them staying up late drinking beer and tossing Barrows’s pigstickers at an oak tree. Barrows amazed at how quickly Rakkim learned. Wasting your time here, boy, you should enlist in the Knights of Jesus, kill ya some towel heads. Rakkim taking another pull on the longneck. Heckfire, Willy Lee, I couldn’t hurt a soul if my life depended on it. Rakkim opened his eyes.

The assassin looked back at him, still nuzzling Fancy. Waiting for something…waiting for Rakkim. The assassin nodded, then drove the knife into Fancy’s ear. Drove it in to the hilt. Almost no blood that way. He must want to keep his nice suit clean. He laid Fancy down gently as a bridegroom. Then he started toward Rakkim and Sarah.

Rakkim thrashed harder, choking now.

The assassin turned Rakkim’s head to the side, let the blood run out of his mouth. Then he took Sarah’s hands, placed them back on Rakkim’s chest, and pressed. “That’s it. You had the right idea, but you have to keep the pressure on. Otherwise, he’s going to drown in his own blood. Good. That’s it.” He had a soothing voice. A kind voice. He looked down at Rakkim. “Don’t worry. We’ve got you.”

“Who…who are you?” said Sarah, pressing down with both hands.

“Don’t stop,” said the assassin. “Put all your weight on it. Steady pressure.” He flipped open his cell, hit a button. “Redbeard? It’s me.”

Liar, shouted Rakkim. No…he had only thought it.

“Thank God.” Sarah smiled at Rakkim. “It’s going to be okay, Rikki.”

“We had some trouble, just like I thought.” The assassin was a fit, middle-aged man with thinning brown hair, and a soft, clean-shaven face. A face you could trust. He could have been a loan officer in a bank. Or sold real estate. “You got the jet standing by?…Medical crew too?…Good. Rakkim has the classic sucking chest wound. Left lung is filling up with blood…I don’t know, I’m not a doctor.” He looked at Rakkim. “Redbeard wants to know if you’re going to survive.”

Rakkim struggled to sit up, but he couldn’t even raise his head.

“He’s going to be fine, Redbeard,” said the assassin. “Can’t kill a Fedayeen, you know that. Just have the jet ready to leave as soon as we get there…No, no time for a chopper…I don’t know-ten minutes.”

Rakkim tried to make eye contact with Sarah, to warn her, but she was intent on keeping pressure on the hole in his chest, and when she did look at him, she was too busy being brave to read his mind.

Still talking on the cell, the assassin strolled over to one of the dead SWAT. Started going through his pockets. “Yes, I know how far the airport is, but we’re not taking a taxi.” He held up a set of keys, jingled them for Rakkim’s benefit. “Tell the medical crew we’ll be there in ten minutes. I’ll put the siren on so they can hear us coming.”

CHAPTER 48

“How is he?” said Sarah.

Darwin listened, a finger pressed against his earlobe. “How are you feeling?”

“My ears are still ringing from the gunshots, but I’m okay.” Sarah walked to the bulkhead of the private jet, stood outside the door to the makeshift surgical unit. She couldn’t hear a thing except for the faint throb of the engines. While the medical team operated on Rakkim in the main cabin, she and Darwin were crammed into the forward cabin. “Do they think he’s going to live?”

“He’s going to be fine.”

“What do the doctors think?”

Darwin shrugged. “You know doctors…they never want to commit themselves.”

Sarah slumped into the seat opposite him, put her face in her hands. She suddenly sat up, looked at her hands. They were smeared with blood. Her clothes…her hair…she was sprayed with blood. Rakkim’s blood. The blood of the policemen. All of those dead bastards. Darwin said there was a huge bounty on her and Rakkim. The Black Robes were willing to pay almost anything for her capture. He said Redbeard had only found out the extent of Ibn Azziz’s personal jihad in the last couple of days. Darwin had been sent to join them, to protect them with his life if need be. Sarah looked over at him, the cabin so cramped their knees brushed. “Have I thanked you yet?”

Darwin smiled. “Several times. It’s really not necessary.” His suit looked freshly pressed, with only a few small bloodstains. She didn’t know how he had done it.

“You risked your life for us…and there were so many of them.”

“It’s my job. I enjoy it.”

“Redbeard must trust you a great deal to have sent you.” Sarah wiped her hands on her dress. It only made things worse.

“I’m sorry we don’t have a shower on board, but you could wash up in the forward lavatory. I’ll get you a clean scrub suit you can change into. Is that all right?”

Sarah stood up. “Oh, yes, that would be wonderful. I must look disgusting.”

Darwin stood up, bowed. “You look lovely Miss Dougan.”

Sarah laughed. “You have a very interesting aesthetic.” She slipped into the lavatory, closed the door behind her. Close quarters. She peeled off her dress and stuffed it in the trash. Soaped up her hands and lathered her arms, then her face. The soap smelled like lemons. She washed herself all over again. Splashing. Happily making a mess. Rakkim was going to be all right. Redbeard had sent the plane and the doctors. Redbeard had sent Darwin…and everyone knew that Fedayeen were hard to kill. Everyone. She wet a towel with warm water and cleaned her hair. A tiny bit of bone fell out, bounced in the sink, and she almost threw up. Sobbing now as she scrubbed herself. She jumped at the light knock on the door.

“Miss Dougan? I have the scrub suit.”

Sarah opened the door a crack. Darwin stood there with his back toward her, hand extended, holding the blue scrubs. She took them, closed the door. “Thank you.” When she came out five minutes later, she felt better. As long as she didn’t breathe through her nose. “Can I use your cell? I’ve been trying to call my uncle, but it doesn’t seem to be working.”

“The plane has a damping mechanism. For security purposes.”

“There must be some way to speak to him. Surely you’ve contacted him.”

“I have. He told me to hold all further transmissions. Ibn Azziz has undoubtedly found out about what happened back there and will be taking steps.”

“Yes…of course. Any change in Rakkim’s condition?”

“The doctors said he was stable.”

“That’s good, isn’t it? That’s an improvement.”

“They always say that.” Darwin patted her arm. “Try not to worry. Why don’t you sit back down.” He indicated the seat. “I took the liberty of pouring you some sparkling water. We can talk. It will make the trip go faster.”

Sarah sat across from him. “How soon should we be in Seattle?”

“Do you know, I’ve read your book? Twice.”

Sarah relaxed slightly. “Were you trying to impress Redbeard? I have to warn you, he’s no fan of the book.”

“I enjoyed it very much.” Darwin ran a hand through his wispy hair. “Your whole premise that the true gods of the old regime were movie stars and musicians…that converting them to Islam was a pivotal victory…well, it was quite brilliant.”

Sarah nodded politely. “The doctors said you saved Rakkim’s life.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.” Darwin had…quiet eyes. Light gray and translucent…familiar somehow. “You handled yourself very well at the amusement park, and on the drive to the airport. I hope you don’t mind me saying so.”