But it had also been her thought to separate, she thought grudgingly. She had just been about to tell him that they had to have a structure, a plan. And that plan could have involved going after Montez herself and leaving Cameron in the dust. It had occurred to her that a woman alone might seem less intimidating when she confronted Montez. It might keep Montez from panicking any more than he had already. The only thing that was important was getting Montez and making sure he wasn’t too damaged to talk to her.

But Cameron had taken the initiative, and she didn’t know what he would do if he reached Montez first. There was no one more chillingly intimidating than Cameron, which meant that she definitely didn’t want that to happen.

She broke into a run.

*   *   *

Montez was directly ahead of her.

She could hear the crash of brush as he moved quickly, frantically on the trail.

She could hear his harsh, strained breathing.

But Montez was the only one she could hear. Cameron must be near, but, of course, she couldn’t hear him. He was trained to be silent as a ghost on the trail.

Where are you, Cameron?

Forget him.

It was time to go for it.

She darted to the side of the trail into the brush. Then she covered the few yards to where Montez was plunging down the trail.

Identify and try to stop the fear.

“Montez! Stop. I’m CIA. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Montez froze, cast a wild glance behind him, then started to run.

At least he hadn’t drawn a gun on her.

She ran after him.

Five yards later, she tackled him.

“No!” He turned, struggling.

“Shh. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He froze, looking up at her. “Bitch.” His fist struck her jaw.

Her head snapped back. Dizzy. She shook it to try to clear it.

So much for thinking he wouldn’t be intimidated by a woman. It was clearly all too true.

“Sorry.” She brought the edge of her hand down in a karate chop to his neck.

He went limp.

She sat back on her heels and drew a deep breath.

“Not very well done.” Cameron was strolling out of the brush. “I was thinking I might have to step in, but that would have been very humiliating for you. He’s obviously a rank amateur.”

She got to her feet. “Where were you?”

“You obviously wanted to handle him alone, so I thought I’d let you do it.” He knelt beside Montez and took his neck in his two hands and turned it back and forth, examining it. “This karate move was done expertly, and so was the tackle. Otherwise, you deserved that clip on the jaw. Too soft, Catherine.”

“Which is why I didn’t want you to—” She stopped and shook her head. “I thought there was a chance of not hurting him. He’s already lost two members of his family and Father Gabriel.” She shrugged. “It didn’t work out.” She knelt again and went through Montez’s knapsack. “A wallet with ID and two hundred dollars’ worth of quetzal. A few health bars and a bottle of water.” She went deeper. “A quartz rosary, a prayer book…” She pulled out a hand-bound book with a yellow cover that was the worse for wear. On the cover the title was typed in large print. Maggi. “This is some kind of computer manual or book. It looks like something a college kid would have created for himself.” She was flipping through the pages. “No text. Formulas, mathematics, chemistry. I can’t make it out. Can you?”

He glanced at it. “No, but I’m not a scientist. And I’m more interested in what you allowed Montez to do to you.” He lifted her chin and examined her jaw. “You’re going to have a bad bruise. You only barely came out on top on this one.”

“I’m fine.” She felt a rush of tingling sensation and quickly leaned back, away from his hand. “Montez should be regaining consciousness soon. I have to find something with which to tie him while I talk to him.”

“By all means. We wouldn’t want him to clip you again.” He got to his feet. “But I’ll do it. I’m usually prepared for any eventuality, and if I’m not, I improvise. It’s part of my training in Tibet with the monks. You stay with him and look alluring and helpless if he wakes up. Who knows? It might work the second time.”

“I didn’t intend to appear helpless,” she said through set teeth. “Only nonthreatening. There’s a big difference as you—” She was talking to air. Cameron had vanished again into the forest.

But he would return and probably with as many gadgets and ingenious self-made devices as MacGyver on that vintage TV show. It wouldn’t surprise her if he dug up a pair of handcuffs from somewhere, she thought crossly.

Stop it. She was just annoyed because she had not performed well in his eyes. They were both professionals, and she had not wanted to seem less competent than she knew she was.

What did it matter? she thought impatiently. Both she and Cameron marched to their own particular drummers. She answered only to herself or perhaps to Hu Chang. Certainly not to Cameron. She turned away from Montez and moved to the edge of the trail. Find wood and make a fire. She could do that while still keeping an eye on Montez and waiting for Cameron to come and dazzle her with his MacGyver-like ingenuity.

And then she would sit down and plan how she was going to tell Montez about Father Gabriel and his own sister, who were the latest victims of Santos. It would be ammunition to make him talk to them, but not one she would take pleasure in using.

Then don’t plan, let instinct lead her to the right way to handle him.

If he could be handled. He was a man who was filled with panic and bewilderment, and that often translated to violence.

She touched her bruised jaw. For a student of theology, Montez had been less than Christian in his response to her.

She would just have to make sure she didn’t turn the other cheek.

ST. JOSEPH’S HOSPITAL

ATLANTA, GEORGIA

He was there again, Jane realized with annoyance. Outlined in flames in the darkness. Sending out sparks that disturbed the serenity. She couldn’t get away from him.

“No, you can’t,” Caleb said. “I’m glad you realize that. But I’ve never really gone away. I’ve just let you rest and get used to my being here again.”

“I don’t want to get used to your being here. I told you that before. I want you to go away.”

“So you can go away? So you can go running back to Trevor? That’s not going to happen. He doesn’t want you, Jane.”

“You’re lying. He does want me.”

“Not now. I’m not worried about him. He’ll be on my side.”

“He loves me.”

“As much as he can love you. As much as you can love him. But there are all kinds of love, and you haven’t tasted more than a sip. Trevor would want you to drain the cup. You know that, Jane.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t want to know.”

“Too bad. Because I don’t really care what Trevor wants. It’s what I want that’s important.” His voice was velvet soft, insistent as a haunting melody. “And I want you to live, Jane. Not only will you live, but you’ll reach out and embrace life. I won’t have it any other way.”

“You don’t have anything to say about it. I’m dying.”

“But you’re better. I’ve been working, mending, helping you to mend yourself. I’m not there yet, but I’m closer. You’re having trouble not being aware of me all the time. I’m behind you, pushing. Soon I’ll be in front, leading.”

“No.”

“Yes.” He smiled. “Give it up. I won’t let you go. I’ll sit here and work on that mending. And now it’s time for you to think about something besides Trevor. So I’ll slip in a few memories to blur him…”

She tensed. “Of you?”

“No, we’ve not really had that kind of relationship yet. Close, but not quite there. I’m looking forward to it.” He chuckled. “No, I’ll make those memories pure as the driven snow. Not at all what you’d expect of me.”