Read A Single Eye for Free Online Page B

okay back here. I managed a nod of false heartiness, even added the jaunty little hand wave that had once fooled a director as I raced out of a location set. Leo started the truck and checked me again in the rearview mirror. I nodded again, but found myself clinging to his gaze like a lifeline. The truck rattled on slowly.
    The roshi rapped on the window. He must have meant for me to move away. Not hardly! I couldn’t even look to the right or left for fear of what I’d see. My hands were shaking so, I could barely hang onto the cacao bean bag. If anyone in the stunt community ever heard about this—I couldn’t worry about that, not now. I focused on what was happening in the truck. Yamana cared about this roshi; there had to be good in him.
    The roshi turned to Leo. His words were muted under the clatter of the old truck, but whatever points he was making he emphasized with sharp raps on the dashboard. He paused. Leo nodded. He leaned in toward Leo and spoke and rapped again. I was so close behind I could see the taut lines in his jaw as he spoke. The man was close to regal; the forward thrust of his head when he spoke, and the ropes of tension bulging out of his throat when Leo laughed, scared me.
    This couldn’t be the deep teacher Yamana remembered; Yamana must have realized he had changed over the years, changed so much he was going to do something dreadful. No wonder Yamana had given me the warning.
    The truck swerved sharply to the left. I grabbed onto the cacao bag with both hands. It was all I could do not to vomit. I couldn’t think.
    I didn’t look through the window anymore, I just stared down at the burlap. All I wanted to do was get out of here, out of this truck, out of the sesshin, out of the woods.
    But even in the deepest moment of panic I knew I couldn’t walk away, not from my own fear, not from Yamana-roshi’s instruction. Tell Garson I know what he is planning and he must not. Tell Garson I am sending this message with you .
    I would tell him, but I couldn’t imagine how I was going to stop him.

C HAPTER F OUR

    T he truck veered sharply, but I didn’t see where it was headed. Suddenly I could barely breathe; sweat coated my body. It was all I could do to just hang onto the burlap bag.
    Metal banged. The door slamming jolted me to attention in time to see the roshi jump off the running board and stride away from the still-moving truck. With each long graceful stride he looked every inch the great pooh-bah.
    The truck jerked and stopped. The burlap bag slid backward into the tailgate. I risked a glance into the distance. No trees in sight. We were in a parking area. Beyond was a grassy area the size of a football field, slanting up a rise to a round wood-shingled building I took to be the zendo. People were hurrying across the grass in various directions. I glanced at my watch. 6:15! The first sitting was at 7:00. No wonder everyone was rushing.
    The driver’s door opened and Leo eased out back first, bracing his arms on the roof and door to lower himself. Even so, he had to try three times to get his foot to the ground, as if the drive had crunched his lower back and it was painful to stretch his leg and put weight on it. His entire weight didn’t look like much. I jumped off the side of the truck bed, intent on racing around to help him to the ground. But I almost smacked into him pulling down the tailgate.
    â€œLeo, what are you doing?”
    â€œI’ve got a hundred-thirty-pound bag of cacao beans. You were incidental on this trip, girl. It’s these beans that were the paying passengers.” He patted the truck like an old friend. “Now, go on and find yourself a cabin. I’m going to run this bag up to the cook.”
    â€œOn your shoulders?”
    â€œOn that wheelbarrow that’s been waiting right there.” He reached over to a rusted red barrow, and stopped. A van pulled into the parking area. Men and women jumped