Hunting Zero. Джек Марс
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him.”
“He’s going to find us,” Maya said. Her tone was hushed, not defiant, as if she were simply stating a fact. “He’s going to come for us, and he’s going to kill you.”
Rais nodded as if he agreed with her. “He will come for you; that is true. And he will try to kill me. Twice he has made attempts and left me for dead… once in Denmark, and again in Switzerland. Did you know that?”
Maya said nothing. She had suspected that her dad had something to do with the terrorist plot that unfolded a month earlier in February, when a radical faction tried to bomb the World Economic Forum in Davos.
“But I endure,” Rais continued. “You see, I was led to believe that it was my destiny to kill your father, but I was wrong. It is my fate. Do you know the difference?” He scoffed lightly. “Of course you don’t. You are a child. Destiny is comprised of the events that one is supposed to fulfill. It is something we can control, something we can dictate. Fate, on the other hand, is beyond us. It is determined by another power, one we cannot fully comprehend. I don’t believe I am allowed to perish until your father dies at my hand.”
“You’re Amun,” Maya said. It wasn’t a question.
“I was, once. But Amun is no more. I alone endure.”
The assassin had confirmed what she had already feared; that he was a fanatic, someone who had been indoctrinated by the cultlike terrorism group of Amun into believing that his actions were not only justified, but necessary. Maya was gifted with the dangerous combination of intelligence and curiosity; she had read much on the subjects of terrorism and fanaticism in the wake of the Davos bombing and her speculation that her father’s absence at the time it had happened meant he had been a part of stopping and dismantling the organization.
So she knew very well that this man could not be swayed with pleas, prayers, or supplication. She knew there was no changing his mind, and she was aware that hurting children was not beyond him. All of it only strengthened her resolve that she had to act as soon as she saw the chance.
“I have to use the bathroom.”
“I don’t care,” Rais responded.
Maya frowned. She had once eluded an Amun member on the New Jersey boardwalk by feigning the need for the bathroom—she didn’t believe her father’s cover story about the man being a local gang member for even a second—and had managed to get Sara to safety then. It was the only thing she could think of in the current moment that would allow them even a precious minute alone, but her request had been denied.
They drove for several more minutes in silence, heading southbound on the interstate while Maya stroked Sara’s hair. Her younger sister seemed to have calmed to a point that she was no longer crying, or had simply run out of tears.
Rais put the blinker on and eased the truck off the next exit. Maya peered out the window and felt a small surge of hope; they were pulling into a rest stop. It was tiny, little more than a picnic area surrounded by trees and a small, squat brick building with restrooms, but it was something.
He was going to let them use the bathroom.
The trees, she thought. If Sara can get into the woods, maybe she can lose him.
Rais parked the truck and let the engine idle for a moment as he scanned the building. Maya did too. There were two trucks there, long tractor trailers parked parallel to the brick building, but no one else. Outside the bathrooms under an awning were a couple of vending machines. She noted with dismay that there were no cameras, at least none visible, on the premises.
“The right side is the women’s restroom,” Rais said. “I will walk you there. If you try to scream or call out to anyone, I will kill them. If you so much as gesture or signal to anyone that anything is amiss, I will kill them. Their blood will be on your hands.”
Sara was trembling in her arms again. Maya hugged her tightly around the shoulders.
“The two of you will hold hands. If you separate, Sara will get hurt.” He twisted around partially to face them—specifically Maya. He had already assumed that of the two, she would be the one more likely to give him trouble. “Do you understand?”
Maya nodded, averting her gaze from his wild green eyes. He had dark lines beneath them, as if he hadn’t slept in some time, and his dark hair was shorn short on top of his head. He did not seem all that old, certainly younger than their father, but she could not guess his age.
He held up a black pistol—the Glock that had belonged to her father. Maya had tried to use it on him when he broke into the house, and he had taken it from her. “This will be in my hand, and my hand will be in my pocket. Again I will remind you that trouble for me is trouble for her.” He gestured toward Sara with his head. She whimpered slightly.
Rais got out of the truck first, sticking his hand and the pistol into his black jacket pocket. Then he opened the rear door of the cab. Maya climbed out first, her legs shaky as her feet touched the pavement. She reached back into the cab for Sara’s hand and helped her younger sister out.
“Go.” The girls walked in front of him as they headed for the bathroom. Sara shivered; late March in Virginia meant that the weather was just starting to turn, lingering in the mid- to high fifties, and both of them were still in their pajamas. Maya wore only flip-flops on her feet, striped flannel pants, and a black tank top. Her sister had on sneakers with no socks, poplin pajama pants emblazoned with pineapples, and one of their dad’s old T-shirts, a tie-dyed rag with the logo of some band neither of them had ever heard of.
Maya turned the knob and pushed into the bathroom first. She instinctively wrinkled her nose in disgust; the place smelled of urine and mold, and the floor was wet from a leaking sink pipe. Still she pulled Sara along behind her into the restroom.
There was a single window in the place, a plate of frosted glass high up in the wall that looked like it would swing outward with a good push. If she could boost her sister up and out, she could distract Rais while Sara ran…
“Move.” Maya flinched as the assassin pushed into the bathroom behind them. Her heart sank. He wasn’t going to let them be alone, even for a minute. “You, there.” He pointed to Maya and the second stall of the three. “You, there.” He instructed Sara to the third.
Maya let go of her sister’s hand and entered the stall. It was filthy; she wouldn’t have wanted to use it even if she actually had to go, but she would at least have to pretend. She started to push the door closed but Rais stopped it with the palm of his hand.
“No,” he told her. “Leave it open.” And then he turned his back, facing the exit.
He’s not taking any chances. She slowly sat on the closed toilet seat lid and breathed into her hands. There was nothing she could do. She had no weapons against him. He had a knife and two guns, one of which was currently in his hand, hidden in the jacket pocket. She could try to jump him and let Sara get out, but he was blocking the door. He had already killed Mr. Thompson, a former Marine and a bear of a man who most would have avoided a fight with at any cost. What chance would she have against him?
Sara sniffled in the stall beside her. This isn’t the right time to act, Maya knew. She had hoped, but she would have to wait again.
Suddenly there was a loud creak as the door to the bathroom was pushed open, and a surprised female voice said, “Oh! Excuse me… Am I in the wrong restroom?”
Rais took a step to the side, past the stall and out of Maya’s view. “So sorry, ma’am. No, you’re in the right place.” His voice immediately took on a pleasant, even courteous affectation. “My two daughters are in here and… well, maybe I’m overprotective, but you just can’t be too careful these days.”
Anger swelled in Maya’s chest at the ruse. The fact that this man had taken them from their father and would dare to pretend to be him made her face hot with rage.
“Oh. I see. I just need to use the sink,” the woman told him.
“By all means.”
Maya heard the clacking of shoes against