Fault Line (32 page)

Alex looked at Ben. Why do you have to be such a dick?

Ben shook his head disgustedly. You're unbelievable.

Alex stalked over to the wall. Why couldn't he get through to him? Why wouldn't he ever just listen?

He looked down at the pile of clothes on the floor. There was something funny about the shirt. He couldn't place what.

He leaned down a little. The buttons, that's what was funny. They were all gone.

What the hell? Why would the buttons on Ben's shirt

Understanding flooded through him.

The robes. The weird feeling when Sarah had walked in. The way she'd been quiet. The way she and Ben had dropped all the rancor.

He looked at the bed. There was no depression in the pillow. The sheets weren't creased. The covers had been thrown back, that's all, thrown back by someone in a hurry, someone trying to create the quick and superficial appearance that he had slept there.

That he had slept alone.

He looked at Ben. You you didn't, he heard himself say.

Ben held his gaze for a moment, then looked away.

Oh, my God. You did.

Ben licked his lips. Look, after I got ambushed at your house-

What the hell does that have to do with it?

It's a post-combat thing, you get crazy.

What are you going to tell me-after you killed someone, you had to have sex with Sarah? You didn't have a choice? Which-don't say it-it's some soldier thing I couldn't understand. Is that it? Have I got it right?

Ben sighed. Alex, I'm sorry.

And hearing those empty words, suddenly Alex hated him. Hated him more than ever. Hated him for everything he'd caused, for making Alex need him, for using the opportunity to

You're not sorry! Alex bellowed, jabbing a finger at him. You're never sorry. No matter what you do, no matter what you cause, you're never sorry!

What are you talking about? I just told you I was sorry.

Oh, bullshit.

Then what do you want from me, Alex? Tell me, right now, what the fuck do you want?

Nothing. There's nothing I want from you.

Yeah, well, that's good. Because I don't owe you anything. And you've never been grateful for it anyway. All you know how to do is complain, assuming you even notice what I do for you in the first place.

What you do for me? Jesus Christ, how can anyone be this blind?

Blind? Ben said. I'm blind? All I do is save your ass when you get in over your head. It's just like school, only now the people who are after you aren't just going to beat you up, they're going to kill you, and you think you have some kind of right to my protection, so much of a right it doesn't even occur to you to say thank you for it. Well, I'm sick of it. It's the same old shit and I'm sick of it.

You want me to be grateful to you because you fended off a few high school bullies, Ben? You killed Katie. You killed her. Why don't you just-

Ben moved in so fast Alex didn't have time to react. He hit Alex in the chest with both hands and Alex flew backward into the wall behind him. His head ricocheted against the plaster and he saw stars. Ben grabbed him by the fabric of the shirt and shoved him against the wall, his knuckles digging into his throat. Alex grabbed Ben's wrists and tried to tear them away, but it was useless. He couldn't speak. He couldn't breathe. Ben was roaring something incoherent, his breath hot on Alex's face, his teeth bared. Alex drew his arm back to punch him but the wall was right behind him and he couldn't get any leverage. He hit Ben in the jaw but it did nothing. He felt his lungs spasming for air and thought, Oh God, he's trying to kill me, he's really going to kill me, and he panicked. He brought a knee up but Ben's hips were turned, his groin out of reach. He clawed at Ben's hands, then at his face. The force of the knuckles grinding into his throat worsened.

A distant part of his mind whispered, Gun. Gun. Gun.

He groped blindly for the gun in his pocket. The contours of the room seemed to be receding behind Ben's face, clots of gray creeping in at the edges of everything.

Gun. Gun. Gun

Ben shot a knee into his balls. There was an explosion of pain in his abdomen, a burst of light behind his eyes. Ben stepped away from him and he fell to the floor, choking and retching.

Ben squatted down and pulled the gun out of Alex's pocket, then stepped away from him.

What are you going to do, Alex, you going to shoot me? Is that what you want to do?

Alex managed to get to his knees. He clutched his throat and his stomach and sucked in a single sickening gasp of air.

You want to shoot me? Ben said again. You think I killed Katie? And Dad? And Mom? You think it's all my fault? Well, here's your chance to avenge them. Go ahead.

There was a solid thunk on the carpet next to him. He glanced over and saw the gun Ben had taken from him.

He wheezed and fought the urge to vomit. I'll kill you, he thought.

Come on, tough guy, Ben said. Don't have the courage of your convictions?

Alex picked up the gun and pointed it at Ben's face. He imagined squeezing the trigger, imagined Ben flying backward from the force of the bullet hitting him.

That's it, Ben said. That's the way. Go ahead, Alex. I'm the guy who killed our whole family, right? I did it all, it's all my fault. Go ahead.

Just pull the trigger. Pull the trigger. Wipe that smirk off his face for good.

Ben shook his head disgustedly. I'm not going to wait forever, asshole. This is your chance. If you want to take the shot, take it.

Alex pulled himself to his feet, still sucking wind. He hated that Ben wasn't even afraid. More than anything, he hated that.

Then make him afraid. Do it. He tried to kill you. Do it. Katie. Mom. Dad. Do it do it do it DO IT.

The common door opened to his left. He glanced over. It was Sarah.

Stop it! she yelled.

Ben glanced over at her, then back to Alex. Last chance, he said.

Alex, are you insane? Sarah said. Put the gun down. Just put it down!

God, he wanted to do it. And the thought of caving in to his sneering piece-of-shit brother brought up a fresh wave of nausea.

But he couldn't. He knew it. And the realization that Ben knew it, too, had known it all along, was infuriating.

Without thinking, he cocked his arm and hurled the gun at Ben's head. It cracked him in the forehead and Ben went down.

Sarah yelled, Alex!

Okay, Alex said. Now it's your turn. Go ahead.

Ben sat up. A rivulet of blood oozed from a gash in his forehead. He picked up the gun.

You want to kill me? Alex said, jerking his thumbs at his own chest. You killed everyone else. Go ahead. Kill me, too.

Ben wiped his fingers across his forehead. He looked at the blood on them, then wiped them on his robe. If I gave a shit about you, he said, I would. But I don't. We're done. You're on your own.

He walked over to the pile of clothes on the floor, dropped the robe as though Alex and Sarah weren't even there, and pulled on his pants, then his shoes, then the buttonless shirt, and then his jacket. He picked up his bag and pulled Alex's and Sarah's cell phones from it. He tossed the phones on the bed and slung the bag over his shoulder.

Ben, Sarah said. He walked right past her, into the bathroom, as though she weren't there. A few seconds later he came out with a washcloth pressed against his forehead.

Ben, Sarah said again.

Ben paused and looked at her. It was a mistake, he said. Forget about it.

Then he opened the door and walked through it. It clacked closed behind him and he was gone.

The room was weirdly silent for a moment. Sarah said, What the hell happened?

Nothing, Alex said, suddenly resenting her. He'd brought her along just to help her, because she might be in danger. And she repaid him by fucking his brother. Alex was up all night cracking Obsidian while the two of them went at it like bunnies. Well, the hell with that. He didn't need her. He didn't need anyone.

I'm going home, he said. I'll see you at the office.

How can you go home? she said. Ben just told you-

I don't want to hear it! he said, more sharply than he'd meant. Just like he said, forget about it. Just forget it.

He walked across the corridor to the third room to collect his stuff. He didn't care if people were still after him. He didn't care about anything. If someone killed him, it was going to be on Ben's head anyway. Just like the rest of it.

Chapter 28 STAND DOWN

Ben walked the few blocks to the Chinese Hospital on Jackson Street, the morning sun low in the sky, the glare enough to make him wince. His head was throbbing from where it had stopped the flying Glock, and his emotions were roiled from everything that had happened just before, but he still took precautions along the way.

Alex throwing the gun had caught him by surprise. It was a reminder of how dangerous an amateur could be. Because no operator in the world would think to hurl a pistol, at least not one that was fully loaded and functional. It was just counterinstinctual.

Of course, this one wasn't loaded, although Alex hadn't known that. While Alex was on the floor sucking wind, Ben had pulled the magazine and emptied the chamber. He knew Alex wouldn't spot the difference. And while he was only trying to shame and humiliate the little prick with his taunts, and was sure he wouldn't have the guts to pull the trigger, there was sure and there was sure.

He grimaced at the pain in his head. He had some QuikClot hemostatic bandages in his bag and could have used them to dress the wound and stop the bleeding, but he was this close to a hospital might as well have it disinfected and closed up properly, and save the bandages for a real emergency.

Yeah, he'd been right about Alex's guts, or rather his lack of them. But he wasn't sorry he'd stacked the deck in his own favor just in case. What was that saying? The stupidest last words ever spoken are You don't have the guts. No sense taking that kind of chance.

The real chance he'd taken was putting his hands on Alex in the first place. Because when Ben was that angry, starting was a hell of a lot easier than stopping. Already, he couldn't remember all of it. Alex had accused him of killing Katie, he'd finally said it out loud, just what Ben had known he'd been thinking for all these years. Ben heard the words and then what had he done? There was a red mist, and then he was choking him, wasn't he? Yeah, choking him.

Choking? Say it. You were killing him. You knew it. You felt it. You wanted it.

But he'd stopped himself. He didn't know how, but he had stopped. That had to count for something.

He walked into the hospital emergency room and filled out a form using a fake name and ID. He was lucky-no emergency cases ahead of him. They sat him down right away and went to work on his forehead.

Unbelievable. He'd been through two firefights in as many days- plus the thing in Istanbul a few days earlier, why not count that, too?- and he'd walked away from all of it without a scratch. It took his brother, who apparently couldn't tell the difference between a Glock 26 and a fucking rock, to do him some damage.

He almost laughed at the thought. Despite how pissed he was, he had to give Alex credit for showing some balls. At least he'd fought back. And he'd tried to use the gun, even though Ben had seen him reaching from a mile away and easily stopped him.

Five stitches and two ibuprofen later, he walked out of the hospital and picked up his car where he'd left it the night before. He thought about what he wanted to do. No new orders, and after Istanbul, he didn't expect to receive any for another couple of weeks at least. Maybe go to Bragg, use the range, stay sharp. Or fly to Cabo for a few days. Yeah, Cabo, do some diving, lie around on the beach, see what happens. That would be good.

He would just swing south on the way out. To see if he could find that Volvo. Not for Alex-fuck him. Just to satisfy his own curiosity, that was all.

Forty minutes later he was cruising the quiet morning streets of Ladera. It took him a long time to find the guy's car-a silver S80. He'd parked in a clever place, Dos Loma Vista Drive, only a half mile from Alex's house as the crow flies, but several miles away by car. The guy had clearly studied a topographical map and understood that with the night-vision goggles he could easily hump the short distance to Alex's house by cutting through yards, while keeping the car in a place where even someone searching for it wouldn't immediately think to look.

When Ben saw the Volvo's lights blink in response to the key remote, he parked and got out. Dos Loma Vista was a heavily wooded cul-de-sac. No one was around. No one was going to see him.

He checked the underside of the car for IEDs. It was clear. Then he examined one of the back doors. If someone had booby-trapped the car, most likely it was the driver's door that would be wired, but they'd out-thought him once already, and he wasn't going to let it happen again. The back door was okay. He got in the car and did a quick search. The inside of the car was empty. No registration, not even any rental-agency materials. There was just one thing, in the glove compartment. A cell phone.