Page 15 of What Remains (John Worthy #3)

Davila didn’t like it.

“I don’t like it,” Davila groused. He had waited until before Driver and Harvey had tramped down to the van with cans of gas and supplies. “We’re not supposed to get separated.”

“As I recall, you were the one who told me I’d have to go on alone.

Left foot, please.” Having bundled Davila into his parka, he took hold of Davila’s left ankle and worked the foot into a left boot.

As he tightened the laces, he said, “We’ve been over this.

Harvey drives us back to Khorog, where there’s a decent hospital.

We split up there. Harvey will stay and make sure you get the meds you need, and then the two of you will either go up to Dushanbe on your own or someone will come get you.

Then you get your ass out of the country and back to your wife.

” He paused then added, “I was going to say Patterson, but I think you’ll have way more fun kissing your wife. ”

“True, but that’s not the point.”

“No. The point is you can’t go on, Davila, but I have to. This plan also gives you the best chance of making it back with all of your arm instead of only most of it.”

“I still don’t have to like it.” Davila scowled. “I don’t know those guys from Adam. You barely know Driver.”

“I know enough.” If loving the same woman counts. He concentrated on knotting the lace, throwing in a double-knot for good measure. “Too tight? Wiggle your toes.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” After a short silence, Davila said, “This makes me feel about five years old.” Then, without turning his head, he went on, “And what about our little Mowgli here? What’s going to happen to him?”

John didn’t look either, though he felt Matvey’s eyes on them both.

The boy was sticking close, not talking much or moving more than necessary.

As if he thinks that by making himself very small, we’ll just forget about him until it’s time to go back to the States.

He bet if Matvey could, he’d fold himself into Davila’s duffel and take his chances.

“I don’t know,” he said, slotting Davila’s right foot into a boot. “ We aren’t going to do anything other than leave him with you. Then you will make sure he gets to some aide agency that can track down his parents.”

“Somehow I don’t think his parents will take him back. Remember, if you’re right, they sold him off in the first place.”

“I can’t believe that any parent wouldn’t be thrilled to see his or her kid,” he said, slowly working the boot’s laces. “They might not have had a choice.”

“There’s always a choice.”

Between the devil you know and the one you don’t? If he wanted to retrieve Roni’s remains, he had no choice now but to partner up with Driver. “Not if his parents were starving,” he said. “Not if they were desperate.”

“As desperate as you are to go along with Driver?” Davila pressed. “John, you haven’t seen this man for almost two years. Then he turns up out of the blue and claims he didn’t know that you were here? That doesn’t add up.”

He made a sort of helpless shrug of a shoulder. “What would you like me to do? How many choices do you think I’ve got?”

“There’s always a choice.”

“Not always.” He’d certainly been in at least one situation where all elements of choice were taken away. But he’d not shared that part of his story with Davila: how he’d made it out when Roni had not. Possibly because he’d been essentially dead at the time.

“What makes you think he’ll keep his end of the bargain?” Then, without waiting for an answer, Davila said, “What are you doing, tying a Gordian knot?”

“He will,” he said, though he saw that the knot he’d made was nothing more than an ungainly lump. Maybe a metaphor here. Teasing apart the laces, he started again. “Because you’re forgetting one thing. Driver’s already gotten in touch with his superiors.”

“And?”

“And his superiors know and approve, which means Patterson has to have been read in, if only to forestall uncomfortable questions. Given his connections, I bet Patterson might even have known Driver was here… wait, wait.” He held up “Before you defend him, remember that I don’t know Patterson the way you do.

For me, Patterson showed up out of the blue and then, boom, I’m on my way to this—” He almost said hellhole.

“Place. We meet Ustinov, a Russian running a clandestine op for Americans. Given the current political climate, you can’t tell me Patterson didn’t know about any of that. ”

“But Driver said he wasn’t our contact.”

That bothered him, too. “Maybe it was need-to-know. We might’ve have met up with him eventually.

Driver might not be as read in as he thinks.

Maybe whoever’s pulling his strings decided he’d be better off with two more guys.

We may never know, but I think we got to make peace with a little uncertainty. The whole thing is just too?—”

“Crazy? Maybe going to get you killed?”

“I was going to say coincidental. What are the odds of Driver and me ending up in the same country? Of two guys who…” He almost said loved but caught himself at the last second. “Knew the same woman? Have this much history?”

“Not high.”

“Exactly.” He gave the boot’s laces a final tug then pushed to his feet. “Either way, you’re out of the game and our friend here,” he said, only giving his head a marginal tilt in Matvey’s direction, “will be much better off at the end of the day.”

“With an agency? Don’t bet on it.”

“Then do something about it. You’re a Protector, Davila. So, do your job. Protect this kid. Maybe he’s not your usual assignment, but he needs you. Now, come on, let’s get you on your feet, see how steady you are.”

“I can do this. I’ve been walking on my own for a day now.

” Instead of pushing to his feet, Davila stared down at his hands and let go of a long sigh.

“I don’t like it, John. I don’t like leaving you in a lurch, and I don’t like leaving when the job is half-done.

” Then he raised his head and pinned John with a look.

“We’re supposed to stick together. I know.

” He held up a hand against any protest. “I know I can’t go, but that doesn’t mean it sits well.

You are a pain in the ass and one of the best soldiers I’ve known. I want to you to remember that.”

John was quiet a moment then said, “You don’t want to, like, become blood brothers or anything, do you? Because I really don’t like the sight of blood, especially my own.”

Davila let go of a snort and then they were both laughing until Davila winced and said that hurt his side like hell.

At which point, Matvey leapt from his spot in the corner, crossed the room, and slid in close to Davila’s good side, took Davila’s right arm, draped that over his shoulders, mimed get up , and rattled off something in Russian too fast for John to follow.

“Thanks, kid. But if I lean on you too hard, you’re going to wind up two feet shorter. But you are just about the right size for the old heave-ho.” Slowly pushing to his feet, Davila let the boy steady him before throwing John a warning glance. “Don’t say it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” And then he couldn’t help himself. “But there’s this scene in the second Indiana Jones movie where Short Stuff?—”

“ Posh-li , kid.” Hand still on Matvey’s shoulder, Davila stumped for the door. “Let’s get while the getting’s good.”