to deal with one who seems ready to get herself killed for the damn story.” He looked up at the hill, then turned back to her. “I have credible info that Zolak is up there, and I’m going to go get him. I have orders to find any way I can to keep those mercenaries from recruiting any more local people to add fuel to the fire that’s burning up this country. Zolak’s an experienced fighter, he’s exactly what they’re looking for.” His voice hardened. “And I don’t give a damn about Zolak’s soul or the story you’re hoping to get from him. I’d prefer you stay alive, but that’s up to you.”
“I’m not going to get myself killed. Not if you stay out of my way.” She had to get through to him. In spite of his coldness, she could tell that Novak was listening, his face was very intent. She had an idea he always listened, was always thinking, trying to put everything together. “Zolak only became involved in this war because he thought that it would be just like the raids he’d been doing most of his life here in the mountains. From the time he was a young boy, that was what he was taught. But he didn’t count on all the deaths, and the slaughter of children all around him when this country exploded. He told his wife it made him sick. There’s no way he wants to join those cutthroat mercenaries Botzan hired. He wants out if we can find a way to bring him home honorably.” She reached out, and her hand closed on his arm. “Help me to do that, Novak. I’ve heard you’re smart and have enough influence to pull it off. Or just let me do it on my own.”
He was silent, gazing down at her hand on his arm. Then he looked up at the top of the hill. “You said he agreed to meet with you?”
She drew a relieved breath. “Yes, but he said I’d have to come alone. I’ve been writing my stories from his home village for the last month. I’ve grown to know his wife and children. They’re the ones who told me how he felt about the war. I talked to him on the phone myself last week. He wants to go home to protect his own village from all the Varaks of the world. I believe him.” She added: “But he’s very proud, he could be forced to go the other way if we don’t let him keep his dignity.”
Novak’s eyes were narrowed on her face. “You think you know him that well?”
“Some stories are easier than others to read. Will you stay here and let me go up there?”
His lips indented in the faintest smile. “What would you do if I didn’t?”
“Find a way to go around you. But I don’t think I’ll have to do that. You have a job to do, and you’ll do it. What do you care if some egotistical reporter thinks she can do it better?” She paused. “As long as you think I’ll get Zolak to go home, you’re going to let me go up that hill.” She took her gun from her pocket and handed it to him. “Will you keep this until I get back? Zolak said I can’t be armed.”
Novak looked down at the gun for an instant. “Then of course you have to obey his rules.” He put the Beretta in his jacket pocket. “Go on. You don’t want Zolak to get nervous. You can tell him that I’ll work out something for him once he’s back at his village if you think it will help.”
“It will help.”
“Good.” Then he reached for his automatic rifle and settled down on his stomach, sighting down the scope before lifting his head to look at her. “But you’ll have to put up with me covering you for the entire time you’re up there with Zolak. I’d find explaining away the death of a reporter much too awkward.”
“Don’t interfere, Novak.”
“Did I say I’d interfere? I’ll give you your chance. But we’ve just met, and how do I know whether or not I’d regret it if Zolak decided to kill you? I do hate regrets.” He smiled. “But you’ll learn what I hate most is to lose an opportunity.”
She inhaled sharply. She wasn’t sure what he meant. Yet she found she couldn’t look away from him. The intensity, the force, the intelligence that was far more interesting