The sun crested the horizon, it's bright orange hue reflecting off the scattered clouds. Ebbe had insisted on taking over driving duties, rather than navigate verbally. Anthony was happy to oblige, because it gave him an opportunity to check up on Art.
They had stopped at a lay-by near an small outcrop of beech trees, atop a hill that revealed miles of open farm land rolling as far as the eye could see. He estimated they had driven thirty plus miles and he was confident that so far there was no obvious sign they were being followed. He didn't for a second assume that meant they weren't be monitored one way or the other. He'd be surprised if the agency didn't know exactly where they were, or where they were heading. That was a bridge he'd have to blow up once they got to it. All he really wanted was to know what the bloody hell Ebbe was so scared of and why she couldn't just say it out loud. She seemed like a straight talking type, so why all the mystery?
Cody had stepped out of the Land Rover and was staring at the sun as it finally broke free from the land and began it's daily ascent. It hadn't passed Anthony's attention that Cody hadn't uttered a word since they left the farmhouse. He wasn't exactly Mister Mouth at the best of times, but it was starting to unnerve Anthony. The kid was a jittery little bugger and under the circumstances Anthony figured he was the type to find the extended silence disconcerting. He'd seen Cody's type before; they want to be in the action so bad, acting so cool, but as soon as the temperature rose, they'd start yacking away like a God damned novelty Christmas toy. But Cody seemed shell shocked, traumatised. It was in his eyes, partly because he was avoiding eye contact, partly because if you did connect, all you saw was yourself reflected back. He seemed a little empty. That was a concern. A yackity yakker can be silenced. An empty vessel is harder to refill, unless you know where the leak is.
Jake had yet to stir, which was of concern only because Anthony knew he hadn't hit him that hard. It was more likely he was choosing to stay quiet, conserving his energy until an opportunity arose. He's a shark that sonofabitch, Anthony thought, as he checked the bindings on his arms and legs were still sufficient. Grim Reaper, she called you. If only she knew how right she was.
Art was also still out cold. That was less unexpected, after all, the silly sod had gone and got himself shot, despite all orders to the contrary. He was still breathing and now they had a moment of pause, Anthony opted to see if he could discern how bad the wound really was. After all, if they had to postpone their stargazing trip to take Art for medical attention, so be it. With utmost care, Anthony used his right hand to gently raise Art's limp head. With the fingers on his left hand he search the blood encrusted hair for an entry wound. He hoped and prayed there was none, that it was a flyby. But Art had not so much as twitched since the farmhouse, that was a sure sign that a bullet had found his skull.
There! A bloody hole. That does it. Anthony placed Art's head back carefully and stood with determination, his eyes searching for Ebbe. She wasn't with Cody, who was still staring at the sweeping landscape. She wasn't by the Land Rover, or sitting in the driver's seat, as she had been only a few minutes earlier. In fact Anthony realised he'd lost track of her.
You're losing it bucko, he cursed himself. There was a time when no man could make a move without his knowledge. Many a recruit had accused him of having eyes in the back of his head. But it was nothing more simple than making use of all available senses. Movement usually creates sound, or vibrations and even smells. Tobacco on clothes, the burger from lunch or the perfume of the woman you'd been with last night. But Ebbe didn't smoke, hadn't eaten recently and had no trace of perfume he could discern. And she was, Anthony pointed out, no man. Maybe she knew all his tricks. After all, somehow she had convinced a highly trained group of assassins to abandon their orders to eliminate her, and, to take her on trip to look at the moon.
Her absence was starting to irritate him. He had intended to tell her the family vacation was over. That they were taking Art to get immediate medical attention, before he was permanently paralysed, if he wasn't already after being bounced around on these bloody country roads. He stood on the floor of the Land Rover, and hoisted himself up, trying to scan the general area for where she may have got to. But to his continuing annoyance she wasn't anywhere to be seen.
"Cody!" Anthony bellowed in frustration. Cody didn't react, staring pointlessly at the sun, having now shed it's early morning orange. "Cody, damn you! Where's Ebbe?" Anthony repeated, jumping down from the Land Rover. Cody turned slowly, his face still vacant. "Ebbe!" Anthony repeated slowly as he strode towards Cody.
A flicker of recognition passed across Cody's face and he simply nodded and gestured towards the beech trees. Anthony grunted in gratitude and made a quick right turn, but keeping his determined pace.
As he approached the trees he could see nothing. They were only a dozen or so, tall thin silver trunked trees, with scant leaves on the branches. Anthony peered through the foliage and upon seeing nothing was about to turn and castigate Cody for wasting his time, when he sensed movement in one of the few shadowed areas. He stepped forward cautiously, assuming it to be Ebbe, but also wary it could be the team sent in to clean up his mess.
He took two more steps before his relaxed his guard. It was Ebbe. But not the strong, defiant woman he had so far seen. Instead she was on he knees, and she had something clasped tightly in her hands. It seemed to Anthony that was was praying at first. But as he took a few more tentative steps forward, he realised she was crying. Not the loud wailing sobs of a woman in mourning, but quiet restrained tears, almost silent. Suddenly feeling self-conscious Anthony paused and instead of approaching Ebbe he stepped backwards, melding into the shadowed recess of a nearby bush. He could just make out the corner of a photo in Ebbe's clasped hand, but any image was obscured by her fingers and distance.
I'll explain to her about Art when she comes back. Anthony thought as he took one last glance at Ebbe, looking disconcertingly frail to him. She is such an enigma to me, Anthony pondered; one moment I peg her to be a highly trained government operative, the next she just a civi who saw the wrong thing at the wrong time, and is doing her best to cope with the consequences.
Careful not to make a sound on the leaves and twigs beneath his feet, Anthony began to step away, back to the Land Rover.
"Fearless?" Came a small voice. Anthony paused, unsure if the voice was addressing him. "Er, Anthony..." The voice came again, a little more sure, a little more steady. It was Ebbe, she'd either heard or seen him. Again, she showed supernatural powers of observation, that disproved her being just another civi. In all his years in the field he'd only been made three times. If Anthony didn't want to be seen, he wasn't seen. This bloody woman is wrong-footing me every time, he cursed as he emerged from the shadow and made himself known.
"Ma'am?" he heard himself saying, having not expected to sound so formal.
"Ebbe," she insisted, as if aware that he had really wanted to use her name.
"Ebbe. Look," he began, intending to explain how serious Art was, and whatever it was that was so urgent would just have to wait.
"Anthony," she interrupted as she stood. Her face was still tear stained and she made no conscious effort to disguise the fact or clean up. Anthony found himself powerless, waiting to know what she was about to say. After all, it didn't matter, let her say her piece and then when he told her about Art, she'd be sure to understand. If an unsentimental bastard like me can muster up some emotion,he reasoned, then she will surely be a softer touch. "Anthony," she repeated for a third time as she approached him. He expected her to continue, but instead she remained silent until she reached him. Her moist eyes seared their way into his soul as she locked onto him. Suddenly he felt like a deer in headlights, captivated by her high beam gaze. He knew at that moment that she was about to hit him with something more important than Cody's vacant eyes, Jake's likely plot for vengeance, the eyes assuredly keeping tabs on them, and, more important even than Art's possible paralysis.
"Ebbe," he started, wanting to get his speech in first, hoping it may stay her tongue and allow him to continue with his efforts to save Art. He feared should she speak she would defrost his resolve and again bend his will to her own. He was glad to find she had continued to pause, seemingly content to let him say his piece. "Art has a bullet lodged in his brain. He could be paralysed. If we don't get him immediate medical care, he could die." A sense of relief ebbed through Anthony the second he had finished. Ebbe had not flinched as he spoke, but, through her eyes, he could see that sharp brain of hers processing his words.
He expected her to say 'no, we can't do that and this is why,' and she would then reveal something to startling, so devastating that he would have no choice but to concur. Curiously, Anthony felt okay with this.
"Then we must find him a doctor," Ebbe said instead, much to his surprise, "I'm rather fond of Moon Face." And with that she broke off her gaze and surreptitiously slipped the photograph into her hip pocket. Off she marched, leaving a bewildered Anthony in her wake. "You coming?" She shouted back, snapping him out of his shock. Anthony nodded as if she could still see him, before turning tail and heading back to the Land Rover slowly.
A sudden shout stirred him fully from his confusion and he broke into an instinctual sprint. Within seconds he had passed Ebbe and could already see that something was amiss in the Land Rover. Without slowing his pace he could discern Cody in the rear seat, his body shaking as if he were having a fit. Anthony already knew he had made a huge mistake leaving the vehicle unattended. Jake was loose and had probably already finished off Art and was now attacking Cody.
Anthony threw himself like a bear attacking it's prey, lunging out at Jake, who had his bony fingers wrapped around Cody's neck. Cody's eyes had rolled back, his face puffy.
"Let him go!" Anthony bellowed as he pressed gripped and twisted into the pressure point running along the ridge of muscle connecting Jakes neck and shoulder. Jake screamed in pain and instinctively released his own grip. Cody tumbled backwards, gasping for air. Anthony increased his grip, tugging Jake backward from the vehicle and causing him to drop to the ground. Anthony had already whipped out his firearm and had it pointed directly at Jake. "I ought to put you down right now," Anthony scowled, "your God damn bullet is still lodged in Art's head. D'yer know that?"
Jake writhed on the ground before twisting himself to look back up at Anthony with fire in his eyes.
"It wasn't my bullet, sir," Jake hissed, "it was his," he finished, gesturing at Cody, still gasping and rubbing his neck.
