Page 80 of What Remains

John was just forking in potato salad when she said, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” He swallowed, followed with a swig of beer, and said, “What’s on your mind?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. Your shooting.” She’ d ordered a jumbo pulled pork sandwich and now she took a huge bite, chewed, swallowed then used her tongue to skim red sauce from her lips. “The Annie Oakley.”

“Uh-huh.” He busied himself with pulling the leg from half a barbecued chicken. “What about it?”

“John,” she said. “You did it. A single shot at that candle, at night, and at three hundred and fifty yards, and you snuffed it right out. How? And don’t tell me it was luck or that you watched me and figured out all my mistakes.”

“Well, I did.”

“Yeah, yeah.” There was a smear of barbecue sauce at the right corner of his mouth, and she had to fight to keep herself from reaching over and kissing his lips clean. “But that’s not why you made it and don’t tell me it’s talent. A real shooter taught you how to do that.”

His gaze fell to his plate, and he stopped talking. He was quiet for so long she was on the verge of apologizing when he said, “I can’t tell you. Maybe, someday. But not now.”

“Oh. Okay.” She felt stupid. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. You didn’t do anything wrong. Hey,” he said and then covered one of her hands with his, “seriously, this is about me, not you.”

“Isn’t that what all guys say?” She meant for that to sound flip. It came out snide. “I’m sorry. That was mean.”

“It’s fine,” he said again. “But it’d be good if we kept old Annie between the two of us.”

“What about Emery?” At his look, she said, “Joke. Who’s he going to tell?”

“Good. She’ll be our secret and who knows?” He picked up his chicken leg. “Maybe someday, I’ll do it for you again.”

“Are you kidding?” She took another bite of her sandwich and said, around barbecued pork, “Someday, buster, you’re going to teach me.”

And now…

In the three seconds it took for that flash of memory, she also realized that there had been no gust of wind back here.

And yet, the candle was out.

And the wick is gone.Then her gaze ticked to the encrusted snow and ice sheeting the wall immediately behind.

Where she spied a tiny hole.

Oh, my God.In an instant, her sluggish brain threw off years of deadening despair and did the calculus, did the math. She saw the placement of all the players, the guards. Shahida was still shouting, hurling insults, and now Sarbaz, clearly irritated by something the woman had said, had straightened, his right hand still firmly clamped on the boy’s shoulder. He also had something black tucked in the crook of his left elbow. Was that a bag? She thought so. A similar bag rested by his feet.

There were five of the enemy to take down: Sarbaz and his four guards. Granted, there were several more in the mine itself, but they were well back, in a chamber where the boys bedded down for the night. Chances were they hadn’t heard a thing—and wouldn’t until it was too late.

Which left these five. She saw them all like pieces on a board and thought of howshewould do it: who she’d take first and second and third and fourth.

The fifth would be hardest because, by then, that target would have time to react. But if she could get him away from the boybeforehand…

“Down! Meeks, Flowers, down!” Lunging, she hip-checked Sarbaz, bulling him aside. The man let out a startled exclamation, but by then she had thrown her arms around the boy and brought him down hard onto icy rock at the same moment that there was another sound.

This was not glassy at all because the slug was not driving into layers of snow and ice at hypersonic speeds but hollow and wet, something she imagined happen if you took a ripe cantaloupe and threw it from a second-floor window onto concrete. A second later, a shower of gore rained down as the skull of the guard standing closest exploded in a shower of brains and blood.

Even as that man was dropping, there was another hollowpuh,another geyser of blood and gore, and then a third, and now a fourth in rapid sequence. Blood slopped onto rock and melted into snow.

Four men down, all of them guards.Leaving Sarbaz, the fifth man, in play. Where was he?

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