Nadia Wolf: My Traitor Part 21

If anyone could get Boyer to talk it would be Remy, but somehow she thought they were beyond talking. These were actions of a madman.

"Do you hear that?" Natan asked.

Ava strained to hear. "It sounds like a helicopter."

"He's escaping!" Natan closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This was to be our last push for Venom . . ." He stopped, his mouth sagged open. "Why didn't I think of it before?"

"Think of what?" Ava asked as Natan raced through the room, tossing open cupboards and drawers.

"Venom. Why did he pick that name?"

"I don't know. I thought it rather silly, but if you're going to have a name that strikes fear, then I guess a deadly poison is as good as any."

"Or, it's because he's using it in his formula." Natan wrenched open a drawer and extracted a vial. "I need to get this a.n.a.lyzed."

"Why would he use venom? Wouldn't that kill?"

"That's exactly what's been happening."

"Then why?"

"He's been trying to prove the legend is true."

"What legend?"

"It was an old story I was told by my savta. She said that men who drank viper venom would gain the strength of a thousand sons. There've been men who claimed it worked. Unnaturally strong men."

"But that can't be true."

"I never thought so," Natan agreed. "But what I've seen with my cousin doesn't obey the laws of science."

"Perhaps that's why Boyer has been mixing the venom with other drugs. If they're hallucinating, they can be as strong as they imagine."

"It's a-"

Screeching, crunching metal had both of them staring at the open door.

"Stay here," Natan said, hopping over Mikael to exit.

Ava rolled her eyes. She was not going to stay put. But as she attempted to stand, leaning her weight on her good leg, a bolt of pain rocketed through.

"Dammit," she cried, falling back into the chair. She was as useful as a paperweight in calm weather.

David's mutterings grew louder and frantic.

"David, are you okay?" she asked.

Perspiration beaded on his brow as he thrashed in his bed, yanking at his bindings.

"David, stop! You'll hurt yourself."

He roared, his voice shredding.

Mikael roused awake. "What's going on?"

Ava stared unblinking at David, who was fighting a battle with his restraints. And he was winning. "Mikael . . ."

"Yeah?" he asked, his wide eyes now locked on David.

"Tell your family to run."

Chapter 17.

Remy hurried to the fallen helicopter that was less than a quarter of a mile away. As he drew closer, he smelled fuel.

"French!" he called.

There was no response.

Fire gobbled at the twisted propeller half wedged into the side of a hill. The tail, crunched as if it were a bendy straw. Like a river, fuel leaked out, pooling on the ground. If the winds took the fire, it would light up like a Christmas tree.

"French!"

"Here."

Remy barely heard the word. It sounded so soft and wispy. Through the billowing smoke, he saw a hand. Remy hurried over.

French was trapped under a skid. It crossed from his right shoulder to his left thigh.

"What the h.e.l.l were you thinking?" Remy snapped.

"Being a hero. Catching a bad guy," French wheezed.

Speaking of which . . . Remy cast a quick glance around. He didn't see Boyer. Without dwelling on where the sc.u.mbag could be, Remy took hold of the steel and hoisted it, feeling the strain as his muscles burned on his shoulders, arms, and back. And yet, it barely budged. But it was enough.

French kicked himself clear, groaning with each movement.

Remy dropped the skid. "Stay still. You probably broke a few ribs."

"Fire. Fuel," French panted.

The fire was encroaching. Remy realized he had to move French.

"Sorry," Remy said, taking the top of French's shirt to drag him away. Between French's curses and the fire, Remy only heard a slight commotion coming from Boyer's lab.

Natan was running toward him. He hoped David and Ava were okay.

"Why the h.e.l.l did you engage with Boyer on a helicopter?" Remy growled.

"He would have gotten away, you giant a.s.s," French gritted.

Remy held back a surprised laugh. The young French wouldn't have dared to call him a giant a.s.s, even if he was one. "He did get away."

"Not everyone can be as perfect as you," French retorted.

"Stop being sarcastic."

"I wasn't."

Natan rushed over. "Let me help."

"You take care of him," Remy said. "Boyer took off. I'm going after him."

Natan scowled for a moment but then nodded and took over French's care.

"Be careful," French warned Remy. "Don't trust him."

Remy jogged back to the helicopter, keeping a wide berth from the fire. He had to find Boyer's tracks.

More commotion from behind caught his attention, but he had to focus on catching Boyer now. If he didn't, this would all be for nothing.

To the left, a shuffled track led to the north. Judging from the scuffs, Boyer must be hurt.

Remy took off, following the marks for a few hundred yards until they disappeared. He halted, scanning the hilly area. He knew Boyer had covered his tracks. He was trying to hide, hoping Remy would pa.s.s by.

"Come out, Boyer!" Remy called. "I know you're here."

A shot whizzed by Remy's leg, ripping a patch from his pants. "You're getting rusty, old man," Remy taunted, stepping back from the line of fire. Now he knew exactly where Boyer was hiding. A slope to the east had a small cl.u.s.ter of bushes with a few unnaturally red leaves.

Boyer was definitely hurt, but he still had a gun and was obviously willing and able to use it.

"We can do this the hard way, the easy way, or I can just let you bleed to death," Remy shouted.

The leaves rustled. Remy aimed his gun, but Boyer stayed hidden. Remy knew he could blast a few rounds, killing Boyer. But that wasn't what this was about-not that Remy wouldn't kill him if he had no other choice. Boyer had to be stopped.

"Come out," Remy said. "I won't fire if you come freely."

"Go to h.e.l.l!"

"I need the antidote for David."

"There isn't one."

Dammit! Remy prayed that the stuff Natan injected David with was helping. If not . . . no, he wasn't going to go down that path. If Remy survived, David better d.a.m.n well survive too.

"Why did you do it? Why me?" Remy couldn't help but ask.

For a moment, there was no answer, and Remy thought he might have to fire a warning shot.

"You want the easy answer?" Boyer asked, his voice gruff.

"At this point, I'll take any answer."

"Too many boys dying."

"You're killing them."

"I'm trying to save them. If they were strong, if they could conquer their fears and enemy advances, they'd be unstoppable."

"You destroyed the innocents we were protecting."

"They were one suicide bomber away from death's door. We can't protect them. Not from terrorists."

Boyer's words about too many boys dying and not being able to protect them had Remy guessing there was more to the story. Boyer wasn't trying to save everyone. Just one.

"This isn't about saving our soldiers or anyone else; it's about your son," Remy said. "They killed him, used him as a message to others, and you were getting revenge. But it was on the wrong people. None of these villagers had anything to do with Tom's death."

"They stood by and watched it happen!" Boyer growled. "Not one person tried to help."

"And so you took their strongest, hoping to weaken them further," Remy stated. "But that still doesn't answer why you were taking your revenge on me. Why?"

"You were there. You should have saved him!"

Remy felt that guilt gnaw on his conscience daily, but he still couldn't have done anything differently. Each time he replayed the day, he tried different scenarios, but they all resulted in the same outcome. Tom had stolen weapons from both sides. And his father continued his treason.

It didn't make Remy feel any less responsible for Tom's death.

"Why David? You had no reason to hurt him."

"He would have given me away." Boyer coughed. "I was on to something when you survived. You were as mad as a category four hurricane, but you survived. I started my research in earnest then," Boyer said. "I didn't mean for you to kill the entire platoon though. I didn't plan for that."

Remy paused, wondering if he'd heard correctly. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't you remember? I thought that might be why you never came out of hiding."

Remy didn't like the direction Boyer was taking. Nothing good came from that day.

"Do you remember when I summoned you to a briefing?" Boyer asked, his voice struggling.

Remy knew he could rush Boyer and be done with it, but Boyer p.r.i.c.kled memories long forgotten. Boyer was dying, and Remy was too selfish to let the answers die with him.

"Yes, I remember. Why?"