Liberation Day by Andy McNab Page B

Carrie’s mother had been born there, and was blessed with plenty of the old stuff. She’d come back ten or so years ago, after her divorce from George, and took in bed-and-breakfast guests because she enjoyed the company.
    Carrie made a couple of turns that took us off the main street and we came to a stop on a small road that ran along the water’s edge. Tucker’s Wharf jutted just a little into the water, with old clapboard buildings on either side, now restaurants and ye olde shoppes. “This is it,” she announced. “We’re here.”
    We got out, zipped up against the cold, and Carrie took my arm as she walked me toward a wooden bench. We sat and looked out over the bay at the large houses on the other side.
    “Mom used to bring me here when I was a kid,” Carrie said. “She called it Marblehead’s gateway to the world. That sounded pretty magical to a ten-year-old, I can tell you. It made me think my hometown was the center of the universe.”
    It sounded pretty magical to me, even now. The place I’d grown up in was the center of a shit-heap.
    “She used to tell me all kinds of stories of fishing boats setting off from here to the Grand Banks, and crews gathering to join in the Revolutionary War and the War of 1812.” She smiled. “You’re not the only history buff around here. I hope you’re impressed.” The smile faded slowly as her thoughts turned elsewhere. She looked into my eyes, then away, across the water. “Nick, I don’t really know where to start with this.”
    I gave her hair a stroke. I didn’t know where this was going, but I guessed it had to do with Aaron. I had a sudden flash of him sitting under guard in that storeroom in Panama, smoking. His nose was bloodied and his eyes were swollen, but he was smiling, maybe feeling happy with himself that he’d helped the rest of us escape into the jungle as he enjoyed his last cigarette.
    I hadn’t had a clue how I was going to get him out of there. I was unarmed; my options were about nil. Then he had made the decision for me. The door burst open and Aaron launched himself into the night.
    As he slithered into the darkness there was a long burst of automatic fire from inside the house. Then the guard got to the door and took aim with a short, sharp burst.
    I had heard an anguished gasp, then a chilling, drawn-out scream. Then the sort of silence that told me he was dead.
    “I brought him here, you know, soon after we’d met. We came up from Panama one vacation. I knew it would scandalize my parents. Turned out they had a whole lot of other stuff on their minds. George was too busy fighting whoever were the designated bad guys that year to notice I was there. I shouldn’t have been surprised. He couldn’t even remember Mom’s birthday. So back we went to Panama to study while the folks got divorced.” She smiled wistfully. “Jeez, I’d gone to all that trouble to round off my rebellious years by getting laid by my teacher, and my straitlaced parents were too busy messing up their own relationship to pay any attention…. Shit,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Maybe I shouldn’t be encouraging you into college.”
    I gave her a squeeze. “I spent my rebellious teenage years stealing cars, and the ones I couldn’t get into I’d just smash up. I think they’re over now.”
    Suddenly she pressed herself against me. “I hated you being away, Nick. It scared me. I guess it made me realize how much I’ve gotten used to having you around. After Aaron died I told myself I’d be very careful about laying myself open to that sort of pain again.”
    I lifted a hand to her face and brushed a tear from her cheek.
    “I was worried about being with you, Nick. Dependability isn’t exactly high on your résumé.”
    I gave my résumé, as she called it, a quick glance. This time last year I’d been living in homeless shelter housing in Camden, had no money, had to line up to get free food from a Hare Krishna soup-wagon. All my friends were