EM7 Episode
9
Revelations
By Aussie
Lass
|
Part One The early afternoon sun
was directly overhead, but the crispness of winter persisted. The
gentle breeze whispering through the trees on the edge of the cemetery
was chilled, but Chris didn’t notice. He was focused on the lone
figure draped in a well-worn buckskin coat. Vin hadn’t uttered a sound
since they’d arrived. They’d entered the graveyard and together
located the simple headstone. Emma Nicole Taylor Loving sister and mother Taken from us too soon. Chris had patted his
friend’s back and left him alone, retreating to the gate. Vin had
been frozen since, his chin tilted
downward, his gaze fixed on his mother’s headstone. Chris pushed his hands
into his pockets to protect them from the cold, his mind drifting back
to the night before when he and his friends had celebrated Vin’s 25th
birthday. They’d thrown the ‘surprise’ party in the private room
at the saloon. In attendance had been the men of Em7, Inez,
Nettie and Casey, Orin, Mary and Billy Travis… or that had been the
original guest list. Buck had invited a few others - all
female. Chris smirked. Even he had to admit it had been a
good night. Vin had been quiet for the
first half of the evening, but more alcohol than he usually consumed
had freed his playful nature and he would never live down joining Buck
doing ‘The Stripper’… only as far as starting to unzip his trousers and
then modesty caught up with him. The same couldn’t be said for
Buck. Thankfully, Mary and Billy had left by that stage.
Nettie, on the other hand, was still present and cheering louder than
anyone else. Buck almost completed the
full monty, but Ezra, ever prepared,
turned off the music and lights and dragged the gyrating man from the
room. It had been a great
night. They had pooled their money and purchased a scuba diving
package for seven. Vin had been embarrassed but recovered enough
to tease the boys with, “And if you think I’m takin’
you lot, you’re crazy. Got my mind set on taking six beautiful
women.” This morning Vin had rung
and said only, “Reckon we should do it today.” Chris had
understood and made a phone call to Ezra asking him to book two flights
to Texas. Five hours later, here
they were in the small town of Staunton, Vin’s birthplace. Chris’ brow furrowed with
indecision. He felt Vin needed to be alone and yet, he wanted to
walk over there and… what? Protect him? “I’m gettin’
soft,” Larabee murmured. Then again, if he’d
learned anything from Buck over the years, it was being yourself and
acting on your emotions wasn’t a sign of weakness. Perhaps if
he’d taken more notice earlier in his life, his world wouldn’t be such
a mess now. Maybe he would have acted on what he was feeling
toward his brother and saved Liam from himself. Chris’ thoughts snagged,
contradicting emotions surfacing. On one hand he was as angry as
hell at Liam. Liam had hired the Hawks to kill Vin and when Kane
had refused, he’d handed Vin over to the psycho Bob Spikes. What
Vin had been through would have destroyed another man, both emotionally
and mentally, but not Vin. He just seemed to take it in his stride, and
that enraged Chris further. He’d promised he would protect Vin
yet he had failed to do so at every junction since the younger man
stepped back into his life… and also before. Hell, he’d left Vin
in Katinda and while Vin understood and
Chris knew he’d had no option, he couldn’t forgive himself. Two
weeks ago, he’d ‘allowed’ his brother access to the office… to Four
Corners… to Vin. What the hell had he been thinking? The anger was swallowed by
a tear-stained image of Liam that materialized from the recesses of his
mind. Liam was ill. He’d lost touch with reality.
When? Chris honestly didn’t know. Then again, that was part
of the problem. Chris didn’t know Liam. Sadly, he realized
he never truly had. When Chris had moved on with his life, Liam
had been a child and it was the child Chris had known…not the man Liam
had become. Chris regretted that. He regretted having turned his
back on Liam to pursue his own life. Unfortunately, in his effort
to make up for letting his brother down, he’d fed Liam’s developing
psychosis. Now, he was left with a brother who alternated
between being an adoring and idolizing younger sibling, to a young man
so obsessed with who Chris had become he wanted to become him – and
Liam wasn’t prepared to let anyone or anything in his way. Chris shook his head,
distracted by some rubbish blowing by. A pamphlet stopped at his feet. Madam Zelda The Psychic who sees the
future and
knows the past. Is your partner right for
you? Madam Zelda knows. Larabee snorted. Maybe
that was what he needed. A psychic to warn him what was going to
happen next in his life. Chris picked up the piece
of trash and stuffed it into his jacket pocket to discard later, and
his gaze returned to Vin who stood so still. ********** Vin bit down on his bottom
lip. What had she been like? What had she been thinking
that day in the hospital when the end had been near? He remembered
snippets. He remembered her calling
his name weakly. “I love you, baby. You’re going to be
okay. Mummy will always be with you even if you can’t see
me. You’re going to live with Uncle Ryan.” The memory
flashed from some hidden crevasse of his mind. Vin’s chest
tightened. Her final words to him had been, “Boy, you’re a
Tanner. Don’t you ever forget that.”
The lump in his throat
swelled and his eyes brimmed with tears. As the words repeated,
he frowned. He’d never truly considered what she’d meant. He’d
always assumed she’d been telling him to live up to the family name,
yet, she was buried a Taylor – her maiden name. He’d believed his
name was Taylor until he’d been sent to the orphanage. There, they’d
told him the name on his birth certificate was Tanner. So, had
his mother been trying to give him a message? Vin sensed he wasn’t
alone. He didn’t react - didn’t need to. The other
person stopped beside him… really close. An arm snaked across his
shoulders and squeezed, the sense of
comfort welcome. “She was trying to tell me
something, Chris. I’m a Tanner. What does it mean?” “We’ll find out.”
The words were deep, soft and full of reassurance. Vin swallowed, reading his
mother’s name aloud. “Emma Nicole Taylor. My parents
weren’t married. She was trying to tell me who my father was but
I was too little to understand.” “I’ll get Ezra onto it.” “Uncle Ryan said he’s
dead. I guess it’s not important.” Another squeeze.
“Probably not. But you’ve a right to know.” Vin licked his lips,
stepped forward and placed the flowers he’d purchased on the grave next
to the artificial ones in the vase. “Ma, I’m real sorry it’s
taken me so long to visit.” He paused on his haunches, battling to
control the dark ball in his soul. A hand settled on his
back, grounding his emotions – a light leading back from darkness. He rose, turned to Chris
and nodded. “I’m done.” “We can stay longer.“ “No need. That’s
just a rock and under it’s a pile of bones.” Chris frowned,
obviously shocked by his bluntness. Vin nodded reassurance to his
friend. “Ma said she’d always be with me… and she is. Coming here
was just about… I don’t know. Makes me realize I don’t need to be
here to feel close to her.” Chris smiled,
his relief evident. “Thanks for comin’ with me. Let’s go home.” Chris patted his back
again and they started across the cemetery. Unbeknown to them, they
were being watched. ********* Ezra rolled the pen
between his fingers, briefly flicking his eyes to the Heavens. “Yes,
mother.” He’d been on the phone to her for fifteen excruciating
minutes. “Which
brings us to Christmas.” “Christmas?” Ezra
dropped the pen, watching it roll under the bureau. “What are your plans?” Ezra frowned. He
hadn’t given the holiday a thought. Life had been so hectic of
late. “We haven’t talked about it yet.” “We?” The sarcastic and accusing
tone in his mother’s voice picked at the scab healing their
relationship. Keeping his temper in check, Ezra stated, “I meant I
haven’t thought about it.” “No, you meant that thug
hasn’t told you what you are doing.” “Mother.” Why did
she do this? Why did she always look for fault… if not in him, in
his friends? “Chris is not a thug and he doesn’t tell me what to
do on my own time.” “Ohhhh,
he just tells you when you have your own time?” Ezra sighed. She’d
never understand. Actually, he couldn’t blame her. It was
complicated and he wasn’t sure he could explain it. “Chris
is my… he leads the organization I am associated with.” “Merciful Heaven.
You were going to say he’s your leader! Ezra, what’s happened to
you?” Ezra shut his eyes, his
anger spiking. “What’s happened, Mother? I have found what it
means to have people depend on me.” “Depend on you? You
mean ‘use’ your God given talents for their own gain.” He was determined they
weren’t going to have this argument again. “How is…” he
stumbled. He couldn’t say ‘Wilhelm’ and yet something was
stopping him from saying the other word… “he?” “Wilhelm?” Her voice
faltered. There it was again. That tone of
uncertainty. He’d never heard it in his mother’s voice before
that night a week ago. It was disconcerting. His mother was
the strongest woman he’d ever met. What she lacked in maternal
instincts she made up with ‘balls of steel’, to quote her. “Mother, I insist you tell
me what happened between you and…” “Be careful with that
luggage. It is genuine crocodile and part of an expensive
matching set.” “Mother?” Who the
hell was she talking to? “I’m about half an hour
from you. I will see you shortly,” she cut him off. “You’re in DC?” Ezra
spluttered, rising from the chair in horror. All of the sudden his head
began to pound. “Why didn’t you say so?” Why didn’t you
warn me? “I wanted to surprise you,
Honey.” She’d achieved her desire.
He was surprised… not that he didn’t love to see her, but if she’d
brought luggage, she intended staying awhile. “Mother, as soon as
you get here, we are going to talk.” “Yes, about our plans for
Christmas.” The phone went dead.
Ezra opened and closed his mouth, serenaded by the buzzing of the dead
line. He slammed down the receiver. He loved her… God, he
loved her… but she was the most exasperating woman he’d ever met! ********** Narrowed eyes settled on
the two men in the graveyard… watching… studying… assessing. ********** The pair walked in
silence. “Okay?” Chris checked as they approached the car. “Yeah.” Vin didn’t look
okay. Chris was about to suggest staying in Staunton overnight,
but something caught his eye. A massive dark-skinned woman was
watching them. She was so large she was finding it difficult to
walk, even with the aid of a wooden cane. Larabee nodded a polite
greeting. The fifty year old woman held his gaze without
flinching and then swept her disapproving stare to Vin. “You two
aren’t looking to cause no trouble with them gravestones are you?” she
demanded. “Louts and layabouts have
been damaging the headstones of late. I’ll belt you silly if you
are.” “Just visiting someone,
Ma’am,” Vin replied. She squinted and adjusted
the glasses she wore. Her eyes grew wide, made
the sign of the cross on her chest and began waddling toward them, her
eyes transfixed on Tanner. “Glory be,”
she cried. “Ma’am?” Vin asked
curiously. Abruptly he realized she was picking up speed and
wasn’t going to stop. Reflexly he
started to back up, but not quickly enough. Her arms encircled
him and before he knew it, he was being crushed in a bear hug.
“Glory be,”
the woman cried, her tears flowing like a waterfall. “Beautiful,
handsome, boy. Madame Zelda was right!” “Ma’am?” Vin cried, trying
to extricate himself. The huge woman, perhaps 350 pounds or more,
began to sob uncontrollably. Vin was lost in the rolls of fat that
surrounded her five foot four frame. Chris rounded the car when
Vin began to make gurgling sounds. “Ma’am? You might want
to let him go.” The woman released Vin,
Tanner catapulting back against the car and drawing in a deep
breath. Tears streamed from the
lady’s dark eyes that sat deep above bulbous cheeks. She crossed
herself again before placing her hands on either side of Vin’s stunned
face, gazing at him in awe. “I prayed the Lord would send you to
me. A psychic visited a month ago and said the man I’ve been waiting
for was on his way… in a buckskin coat!” Without warning, she
attacked again, this time kissing Vin as she tightly enfolded him in
her arms. “Chris!” Vin cried,
struggling to free himself without hurting the emotional and obviously
mentally feeble woman. Larabee smiled and gently
urged the woman to free her victim. It sounded as if Madam Zelda had a
lot to answer for. Vin flew backwards again, this time sliding
out between his attacker and the car before darting behind Chris.
He’d face a hundred men unarmed if he had to, but he had definitely met
his match today. “Ma’am, I’m not sure
we understand. A psychic told you what?” Chris asked, unable to
hide his amusement. Buck often had this effect on women, but
never Vin. Chris had never seen his best friend turn tail and run
from anything before. Of course, this was clearly more woman than
Vin could handle. The sobbing woman crossed
herself, trying to see around Chris. “Glory be.
I can’t believe it. I’d given up hope.” Chris stepped to the side,
revealing a very jumpy Vin who was ready to bolt if the large woman
made another move toward him. As Chris looked into the
lady’s eyes, his amusement faded. They weren’t the eyes of a
crazy woman who was thanking God for sending her an eligible man.
There was something else there - pain. A lot of pain.
“You know my friend?” “Know him?” the woman
snapped, as if what Chris had said was ridiculous. “Young man, I
helped raise him.” She wiped her tears away with a small embroidered
handkerchief she took from her pocket and then looked longingly and
lovingly at the stunned Tanner. “I always hoped you’d find your
way home, Vin.” Chris shot a look at his
friend. Vin blinked, his mouth
turning down in a surprised frown. “You do know me?” he
whispered. Her voice softened and she
placed one hand on the side of his face. “Of course I know
you. I’d know you anywhere, Fudge.” Vin’s eyes grew wide, his
face contorting. “Aunt Molly?” Before he could react,
Molly had him in a bear hug again, smothering his face with kisses. For several moments Vin
just stood and then he melted into the embrace of a lady he’d seen
every day for the first five years of his life. ********** |
This story and its artwork have been rescued. We have tried to
contact the author, but gotten no reply. Since we had permission to
list her stories on Lady Angel's M7 Library (now M7FC), and I hate to
see good stories lost, we are hosting it here for safe-keeping. |
Part Two Nathan laughed at Josiah’s
dry comment. The pair was grocery shopping, each wheeling a cart. The
contents of the two differed markedly. Nathan’s was overflowing
with fresh organic food and Josiah’s with packaged TV dinners. The friends lived on
different floors of the same apartment complex and spent a lot of time
together. Nathan listened as Josiah wrestled with an inner
demon. Today’s question: was his life meaningless? Jackson shook his head
with amusement. Josiah was an amazing man. He was, without
a doubt, the most intelligent person Nathan knew, but such a high IQ
was a heavy burden. Josiah’s logic was often difficult to follow
and his moral reasoning left him critical of his own motivations.
Josiah was constantly battling with himself on a dozen issues. “Meaningless to whom?”
Nathan prompted, picking up a bag of lecithin and reading the packaging.
“Ahhh,
another question, my friend. To whom? To me? To God?
To those who see me walking down the street and pass me by without a
second thought?” Nathan replaced the
package. “Well, you sure haven’t been meaningless to Chris just
lately. Not sure he would have coped with all that’s happened
without your counsel.” Josiah paused, frowning
thoughtfully. “True.” He glanced at Nathan and
beamed. “Thank you, brother.” Nathan watched his friend
head off, a renewed spring in his step. Half an hour later, the
pair loaded their groceries into Nathan’s station wagon. “I wonder if Vin’s found his mother’s grave yet?” Nathan
mused. He glanced to the left to discover empty space.
“Josiah?” Spotting his friend back at the entrance to the store,
Nathan locked his car, dodged a vehicle and a kamikaze woman with a
pram and joined his friend. Josiah was staring
goggle-eyed at a poster tacked to the wall. “What is it?” Nathan asked
eying the advertisement for a cabaret. “Getting Gertie’s Garter.” Josiah’s jaw was hanging.
His hand covered his heart. “Yahweh has answered my prayers.” “Who’s Yahweh?” “God… to you.” Nathan’s eyebrows drew
down in confusion. “You’ve been praying for “Getting Gertie’s Garter” to come to town?” “Yep. Emma.” “Emma Dubonnet,”
Nathan read from the poster. “You know her?” Josiah released his breath
in a gush, took out his wallet and pulled a picture from it. “It’s her,” Nathan
murmured, eying the faded photo that matched the actress on the
poster. “So, why do you have an actress’ photo in
your wallet?” “I'll tell you, Nathan,
but you tell anybody else and I'm going to have to break your back. You
know I could do it, too.” “Yeah, I know,” Nathan
acknowledged. “She’s my fiancée.” Jackson blinked.
“WHAT” Josiah smiled at the
photo. “Emma and I are engaged. Saw her show in San
Francisco when I was young and foolish.” He chuckled at the
memory. “Introduced myself to her afterwards. It was true
love. Saw her four times after that, always with a chaperone.” Nathan shook his head in
an attempt to clear the muddle. The photo was aged. “And you
asked her to marry you?” “Yep, and she
accepted. Then I told her there’d be a short delay. I
couldn’t see her for two years because I was going to pursue a course
of spiritual study with a Cherokee Holy man and that led to me
enlisting in the army. I often wonder if that wasn’t a mistake.” “So, you were
engaged.” Josiah glanced at Nathan,
pursing his lips before speaking. “Once you’re engaged, you’re
engaged.” “But how long ago was
this?” Nathan asked, trying to show his friend the absurdity of what he
was saying. “Not long. About
fifteen years, I suppose.” “Fifteen years!
Josiah… I… you’ve never said anything.” Josiah returned the photo
to his wallet. “No. I’ve told you everything about myself,
Nathan. I’ve told you more than I’ve ever told anyone, but Emma and I… that was private.” Nathan nodded, still
stunned. “So, you’ve stayed in touch?” “No. That wouldn’t
have been right. Too hard on her.” “Josiah, you really don’t
think she’s waited for you, do you?” Nathan asked curiously. “It still says, Dubonnet. Means she hasn’t married.” “A lot of actresses keep
their maiden name.” Josiah shook his head.
“Nope. Not Emma. She said she’d wait. Never a gentler
flower has been born.” Josiah gripped Nathan’s shoulder.
“It’s a sign, my friend. The time is right. It’s time to
complete my courting.” Nathan slapped his friend
on the back laughing. “Come on, Romeo. Let’s get the
groceries home.” ********** “Fate,” Molly
claimed. “Normally I go for my walk in the morning, but I wasn’t
feeling well.” She had her arm looped through Vin’s, insisting he
come back to her house… and she wasn’t a lady who took ‘no’ for an
answer. Every step was an effort
for her, her body lurching from side to side. Chris followed behind
silently. “You left the flowers on Ma’s grave?” Molly nodded. “I
walk down there every day to talk to her. My doctor said I have
to walk. So, you’ve come to find out about your Ma and Pa?” Vin didn’t answer
immediately. “Yeah. I visited Uncle Ryan a fortnight ago
and…” “Gutless wonder he turned
out to be.” Molly glanced up at him. “How is he?” “Married, three kids and
living in California.” Molly snorted and then
inclined her head to the house they were approaching. Vin
stopped, his chest tightening. His house. “Hasn’t changed much, has
it,” Molly commented. It was a small wooden
structure, like all of the others in the street. The big tree was
still in the front yard, shading it. The railings had been
replaced. It was now painted white, but otherwise it looked the
same. “Used to be pale green,”
Vin whispered. “Looked better green,”
Molly claimed. She glanced back at Chris. “This is where
Vin lived. I’m next door. Damn lucky too. Emma went
into labor at 2 a.m. She called the ambulance but she knew she
wasn’t going to make it and so called me. I can’t drive.
Wouldn’t have made no difference.”
She smiled at Vin. “This one was in one hell of a hurry to come
into the world, weren’t you? I had to deliver him. Well,
come on.” *********** As Vin entered the house,
he felt like he was in a time warp. Everything looked exactly as he
remembered it… except older, faded and smaller. He followed Molly
into the tiny sitting room off the hall. He used to play in this room…
bouncing from one chair to the next. They were the same chairs…
the same tables… the same wallpaper. He hadn’t realized how small
the house was. A hall down the centre. Kitchen and a
bedroom off one side. Sitting room, bedroom and bathroom off the
other. “You make yourself at home
and I’ll get some coffee.” Noting Chris looking at the emergency
beeper sitting on the table next to her chair, Molly smiled.
“Fudge can tell you all about that. I won’t be long.” Vin glanced at his
friend. “She’s sick. She was sick back then too. I
knew to push the button to bring the ambulance. She wasn’t big then,
though. She was tiny. Slim. That’s why I didn’t recognize
her,” he whispered. “Probably a result of the
drugs she’s on,” Chris replied, scanning the simply furnished
room. There was nothing new apart from a computer in one corner. Molly reappeared.
“Water’s boiling. No brownies today, Fudge. You’ll
have to be content with shortbread.” Chris smiled. “I
have to ask – Fudge?” “Fudge brownies,” Molly
replied laughing, making her way to her chair. It sagged under
her weight as she eased into it. “No sooner would I take them out
of the oven and I’d hear a knock at the door. Best nose in Texas
this boy.” Vin grinned. “Best
fudge brownies on the planet, Aunt Molly.” Her eyes brimmed with
tears, but she was smiling with pure joy. She patted the arm of
the sofa beside her and Vin took a seat, allowing her to take his
hand. “I… I thought I’d lost you forever.” She composed
herself and shot a look at Chris. “So, you’re that Larabee fella? Yeah, I’ve read about you
on-line. You better be looking after him, or you’ll have me to
deal with. I’m lethal with my stick,” she finished, laughing. Chris took the final chair
and smiled. “I do my best, Ma’am.” “Good.” Molly turned to
Vin, pulling her hand free and placing it on the side of his
face. “Your Ma would be so proud, Baby. So proud.” “Thanks.” “So you want to know about
her?” Vin nodded. “She was an angel.
Best friend a woman could want. She was diagnosed with
liver cancer about the same time I got sick.” Noting the curious looks
on their faces, Molly explained. “Adenovirus 36. It is just
a run-of-the-mill virus for most. Causes flu-like symptoms.
Not in me. Turned my hormones upside down and… I just keep
getting bigger. More to love,” she chuckled. Vin shook his head.
Her pain was obvious. “There’s nothing doctors can do?” Molly sighed.
“Experimental drugs and such, but no, not really. How did we get
onto talking about me?” She sat back, picking up Vin’s hand
again. “Your Ma’s parents died young in a car crash. She
was left to raise Ryan the final few years. She was a great vet.
Loved her work. Don’t know of any other relatives on her
side.” Molly pointed to the desk. “In the top drawer
there’re some papers. Get them for me, Fudge.” Vin retrieved a large
bundle tied together with a lavender ribbon. Molly took it
from him and leafed through until she found what she was looking
for. It was an old copy of the local paper. “They did a
story on your father’s family a few years back. It included a family
tree. I kept it for you.” Vin exchanged a glance
with Chris. It sounded as though Molly had expected him to come
back. “Ryan said my father was a
banker.” Molly paused, stared and
Vin and snorted. “Did he now? Ryan wouldn’t know his ass
from his elbow. Your father was a Tanner, son.” “You say that as though it
means something,” Chris commented. Molly shot him a hard
look. “Around here it does. Staunton is built on Tanner
land. The Tanner ranch surrounds it on three sides.” “Tanner ranch?” Vin asked,
wanting more details. “Huge place. They
breed horses and run beef cattle.” Molly found the page she
wanted and handed it to Vin. Chris rose and stood beside him to
get a better look. “The ranch was founded by
your great, great, great grandfather after the civil war. It’s
been passed down through the family since. The current lord and
master,” Molly stated sarcastically, “is John K. Tanner… your
grandfather. He married Kathleen Walker and they had three
children. Angela, Kate and your dad, Eric.” “That’s what Ryan Taylor
called Vin when he saw him. Eric.” Molly nodded. “I can
see why. You look like your father.” “What happened to John
Tanner’s first wife?” Chris asked, noting there was a second marriage
indicated on the family tree. “She died. I’m told
she was lovely. After her death, old man Tanner fell to pieces
and brought someone in to run the ranch – Lester Hargrave.
Hargrave arrived with his sister
Mary-Ellen – a widow with two daughters, Pricilla and Marguerite, and
she snared old man Tanner. The witch.” “Don’t sound like you care
for her,” Vin chuckled. Molly reached out and
clipped his ear. “Cheeky monkey.” Vin laughed. She
hadn’t changed. She used to do the same thing to him when he was
five. “No, I don’t care for
her. She wears the pants in that family,” Molly claimed. “The old
man never got over the loss of his first wife. But he picked the
witch so he gets no sympathy from me. They had three children of
their own - Richard, Stephanie and
shit-for-brains.” Chris smirked.
“Interesting name choice.” Molly pinned him with a
disapproving look – one he remembered his own mother delivering once or
twice. “She called him Rudolph. He has about the same
intelligence as the red nosed reindeer.” Vin smiled, looking up at
Chris. I like her, Vin. Chris understood why Vin
had taken an instant liking to Nettie. Clearly, she’d reminded Vin of
this lady. Molly and Nettie would definitely get along. “The witch raised all
eight of the kids. She and Angela didn’t get along and Angie took
off as soon as she could. Married some FBI agent.
Doesn’t come home much. Kate went to university and became
an accountant and works in New York. Still single. Eric
stayed and worked on the property until he was killed. Hargrave ran the financial side of things, but
Eric did the hands-on stuff. He loved working with animals. That
was something your parents had in common.” “How did my Pa die?” Vin
asked. “He was thrown from a
horse. Broke his neck. Died instantly.” Molly sighed.
“Your mother… Some things are just meant to be. She and Eric were
right for each other. He was quiet and calm. Didn’t say a
lot, but intelligent and very, very sweet. Hard to anger, but when he
lost his temper, everyone ran for the hills.” Chris playfully slapped
Vin. “Sounds like someone I know.” “Em.
was the opposite. She was cheeky
and full of life and had the quickest fuse you’ve ever seen. But
it was all over quickly with her. They fell in love the first
moment they met. She didn’t know she was pregnant when Eric died.” Vin reflected on what he’d
been told. The description of his father fit what he’d had in his
mind all these years. Definitely not a banker – which raised the question: why did Ryan Taylor lie? Molly pointed to
Chris. “You look strong. See that attic trapdoor in the
ceiling in the hall. Climb up there. There’s a large box… well,
don’t stand there gaping, lad. I can’t get up there any more.” Chris smirked and walked
into the hall. “Vin, I need a hand.” Vin joined him and looked
up. “Give me a boost.” Chris cupped his hands,
Vin stepped into them and Larabee hoisted. Vin pushed the door
open and disappeared into the attic. “Can you see up there?”
Molly called from the sitting room. “Yeah. Dusty as
hell.” Abruptly there was a
crash, followed by a thud and Vin’s curses. Molly burst out
laughing. “Your mother was known to have a good cuss. You
alright?” “Yeah.” Moments later, a box about
a foot square appeared above. Chris took it,
and watched Vin slide back through the opening and jump to the
ground. He was covered from head to toe in dust. As he
began patting it off, Molly cried, “Do that outside!” Vin disappeared onto the
porch. Molly eyed Chris
critically and lowered her voice. “He’s grown into a good man?” “The best.” She smiled. “He was
the sweetest little boy. His mother was sick and he missed out on
a lot, but he never complained. I used to look after him when
Emma was working and then, when she got sick, she’d spend weeks at a
time in hospital and he stayed with me.” “You were very close,”
Chris commented. Molly’s eyes clouded with
love. “He was like my own.” Vin reappeared, rubbing
his hip. “Okay?” Chris asked,
curiously. “Yeah, fell over a pair of
roller skates up there.” “Sit,” Molly ordered,
heaving herself to her feet with a grunt. Before Vin knew it, she
was leaning over him and trying to peel the side of his trousers down
to examine his hip. “Aunt Molly!” She batted his hand away.
“Hush. You haven’t got anything I haven’t seen before,
Fudge. I used to change your diapers.” “I’m okay,” Vin assured,
taking her hand and guiding it away. “Really.” “Well, mercy be. You’re blushin’.
Your father used to blush like that.” “You used to try to look
down his trousers too?” Vin asked, winking. She clipped him across the
ear again and then moved to her chair. Chris assisted her to sit
and handed her the box. Molly paused looking at
it. “I pilfered this before Ryan sold the house.” Chris’ brow
furrowed. “Did Emma own the house next door?” Molly nodded. “Then proceeds from the
sale should have been held in trust for Vin. Your uncle failed to
mention that.” Molly didn’t appear
surprised. She removed the lid of the old box, looked inside and
smiled, pulling out a red, wooden truck. “This was your favorite.
Do you remember?”
Chris, who was peering
into the box, pulled out some papers and handed them to Vin. “What are they?” Tanner
asked, unable to read all of the words. “Applications for
adoption,” Molly whispered. Her eyes misted with tears. “I
tried three times. I wanted to adopt you, but… they wouldn’t let
me because of my condition. They said I wasn’t well enough to
take responsibility for a child. I even rang to speak to the
governor but…” she began to sob. “I’m so sorry, Vin. I couldn’t
stop them taking you away.” Vin handed Chris the
documents, then crouched in front of Molly and tried to hug her.
It was almost impossible because of her size. She held his hands.
“That witch knew you were Eric’s.” “What are you talking
about?” Chris asked. “Mary-Ellen Tanner?” Molly took a deep
breath. “At Emma’s funeral, I overhead the witch talking to her
eldest son, Richard. She said ‘Emma’s bastard won’t get
anything. I’ll take care of everything.’ She was taking
about you. Your mother never told anyone but me.
Not even Ryan knew you were Eric’s, but somehow, Mary-Ellen Tanner
did.” Molly shook her head. “I knew what that witch was up
to. I called Ryan and told him. I told him everything… that
you were Eric’s child. He put the phone down. I called him
a dozen times but he stopped answering, so I went to see Mary-Ellen
Tanner. I told her I knew what she was doing and that I wouldn’t
allow it. She smiled at me in her superior way. That
night, three men broke into my home wearing balaclavas. Scared me
pretty good. They only said one thing. ‘Stay out of it, or
the kid will meet with an accident.’” Chris’ face
darkened. “Did you report it to the authorities?” Molly shook her head,
staring at Vin. “How could I? I had no way to protect you. I
wasn’t family and like Emma, I thought Ryan was going to take you with
him to California. When I found out that good-for-nothing was
going to send you to an orphanage… I was so angry. I flattened
him and he threatened to take out a restraining order against me.” Vin
nodded, remaining crouched in front of her. “Ryan didn’t send you
to an orphanage close by. He sent you far enough away I couldn’t
see you. He knew I couldn’t travel long distances. I
did try to go down there when they first took you away. Got to a
train but I had a seizure and ended up in hospital.” Vin remained silent,
trying to take it all in. “I used my savings to hire
a private detective to watch over you. He did for seven months,
until my savings ran out. I realized the witch wasn’t going to
hurt you as long as I didn’t cause a fuss. She and I, her son Richard,
and Ryan were the only people who knew you were Eric’s son.” “Except Tanner was on
Vin’s birth certificate.” Molly smiled. “Emma
was a smart woman.” “Why is it so
important? Why didn’t that woman want me to stay with you?
It doesn’t make sense.” “Because you’re a Tanner,
and I knew it. Not just any Tanner, either. Your father was
the eldest male… the heir to the Tanner property. As his son you,
not Mary Ellen’s beloved Richard, will inherit the Tanner estate.” ********** |
|
Part Three
“Ooooh,
Buck. I was so sad you had to leave. The paper said there
was a national emergency.” Buck beamed. “Afraid
so, darlin’.” “Are they going to put you
back on the show?” another woman asked. “I’m on call 24/7,” Buck
stated. “National security has to take first priority.” J.D. rolled his eyes. ********** Molly dabbed her eyes with
her handkerchief. “Vin’s the heir to the
Tanner ranch?” Chris repeated. It was all starting to fall into
place. Molly nodded.
“Technically, yes.” “Ryan knew what was
happening?” Larabee murmured. The acid in his stomach was
bubbling. Molly folded the
handkerchief neatly. “I don’t know if that witch paid him off or
threatened him. Either way, he betrayed
Emma. The gutless wonder.” Chris ground his
jaw. He needed to pay ‘Uncle Ryan’ another visit. Vin didn’t care about any
of it except…“Why didn’t you try to contact me?” Molly’s face clouded with
raw emotion. “When you were little, I was afraid for you and… what
right did I have? I’m not family. Then as you got older…
and …look at me, Vin,” she sobbed. The fat on her body wobbled in
waves. Her heart broke in front of his eyes. Vin blinked, realizing she
was indicating her size. “I don’t care about that.” Molly’s
sobbing increased. Vin rose and extended his arms as far around her as
he could. Quietly, Chris left the
room to give them some privacy. When he returned a few
minutes later with three mugs of coffee on a tray, Vin was seated
beside Molly again. “Surely when the time
comes, the property should be divided equally among all the children.” “Not the way the Tanners
do things.” “Then it’s about time they
did,” Vin murmured, his anger rising. They had manipulated his
life over a chunk of land! Molly smirked. “You
sounded just like your mother then.” Chris handed the coffee
around. “Hope you take it with milk and sugar.” Molly nodded. She
pulled another document from the box and handed it to Vin. “Your
parent’s marriage certificate.” “They were married?” “Of course they were
married,” Molly chastised. “They married in secret. Only
Eric’s best friend, a cowhand at the ranch, and I knew. We were
there that day. Your mother looked beautiful and your father was sooo happy. It was only in a registrar’s office,
but it was beautiful.” “Why did they marry in
secret?” Chris asked, settling in a chair. “Because the witch said
your mother wasn’t good enough for Eric. She was determined to
cause problems. Of course, the only real problem was she wanted
Eric to marry one of her daughters. So Eric married Emma
in secret. He was just waiting until he was twenty-five so he
could access his trust fund. Then he and your mother would have
been set for life. They could have told the family to shove the ranch
where the sun don’t shine. He died three
months before his twenty-fifth birthday.” “Foul play involved?”
Chris asked. Molly shrugged. “I
always wondered.” She started to climb to her feet. Vin
assisted her. “Need to get the shortbread. Won’t be long.” Vin watched as she made
her way out of the room with great difficulty. “I rang Nathan when I was
getting the coffee. He’s looking into her condition. Said he
doesn’t know a lot about it… but he’s about to become an expert.
He’ll call me back as soon as he can.” Vin thanked Chris with a
single look. “I reckon I’d like to see the ranch… get a feel for
who my Pa was… take a look at this place
that is so all important to these people.” Chris nodded. “And
I’d like to revisit Ryan Taylor.” “He lied to me.” The tone
was soft and calculated. Chris’ matched it.
“Yeah, he did.” He’d done a lot more than that. Chris pointed to the
mantle behind Vin. It was filled with photos. “They all of you?” Vin turned and
nodded. There were photos of him as a baby, toddler, teenager… even one of him in uniform. Molly returned. “I
spend a lot of time on-line. Can’t go out much. I was able
to keep up with what you were doing. And that private detective I
hired… lovely man. He used to take a photo of you every year and
bring it to me… no charge. He even located you after you
disappeared and went to stay at McKenna’s. I spent every day
on-line checking the honor roll when you went to war. One day…”
her voice choked. “… you were on
it. Almost killed me. Then about five weeks ago, I discovered an
article about Em7 and your name was listed with them. I knew
you’d been part of the STF1 so…” She offered him a shortbread and pointed to a photo of him with a
small dog. “Toby,” Vin whispered. The little Jack Russell
Terrier leaped around his legs. Vin raced across the yard, Toby nipping
at his heels. He dived to the ground and Toby leaped to top of
him, licking his face. “What happened to him?” “Ryan was going to have
him put down. I took him. He used to burrow under the
fence. The people who bought your house were very understanding.
He’d scratch on the door and they’d let him in. He’d race about
looking for you and then return here. He lived a long life… but he
never forgot you.” She pointed to the window. “He’s buried
out there under the tree where he liked to sit… waiting for you to come
home.” Vin exhaled slowly. This
was the life he was supposed to have had. Two loving
parents. A dog. A home of his own. Aunt Molly next
door. “Why didn’t you contact me five weeks ago when you
realized I was alive?” “Embarrassment at looking
like a freak. Guilt that I’d allowed her to bully me into letting
them take you from me.” She held her composure.
“Self-loathing. Take your pick.” Vin shook his head.
“That stops now. Do you still bake fudge brownies on Thursdays?” She nodded, her face
creasing with uncertainty. “Well, I’ll be banging on
your door on Thursdays for my brownies.” She blinked. “You mean,
you’ll come and visit?” “I got a lot of years of
fudge brownies to make up for. Besides, I lost you once, Aunt
Molly. I ain’t losing you again.” Chris felt a wave of
happiness dance in his heart as Molly crushed Vin in her arms. This time, Vin definitely
didn’t want to be rescued. ***********
Sanchez smiled. “I
take it you were expecting someone else?” Ezra snorted at his
friend’s humor. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” He
stepped back, allowing his teammate to enter his three storey
mansion. “I need a loan,” Josiah
stated happily, entering the ground floor open family room and settling
in one of the expensive leather chairs. The term ‘loan’ was one
the boys used flippantly, but not ungratefully. All knew ‘gift’
was the correct word. “I see. An amount?”
Ezra asked impatiently, glancing at his watch. “I need a new suit.” Ezra’s right eyebrow rose.
“I see. Far be it for me to appear overly curious, but may I ask
for what purpose?” “Nope.” The pair exchanged a
smile. Ezra opened his small black address book, located the
number he was searching for and dialed. “Gianni! Ho un amico nel bisogno dire del vostro
ahhh artistico
di servizi...,
voi sono
un signore. 10:00 sono? Signore, sono nel vostro debito.
Grazie. Li vedrò circa in un mese per il mio montaggio usuale. Arrivederci.” Josiah listened
curiously. Ezra replaced the
receiver. “Tomorrow morning at 10:00 am, you have an appointment
with Gianni himself -- the best tailor in the city.” Josiah’s head bobbed in
thanks and he rose to leave. “Thank you, but I’m still not telling you
why.” Ezra winked. “May I
tempt you with a game of chance? Perhaps I can win it out of you.” Josiah smiled, but his
eyes narrowed and he retook his seat. “Allow me to share the
load, my friend.” Ezra studied his
broad-shouldered companion. A year ago, he would have denied he
had a problem. The fact Josiah could tell he had one was, itself,
evidence he had already let his guard down. He seemed to be doing that
a lot lately… at least, around his team mates. With a sigh, Ezra turned
to the lavish bar. “Drink?” “Don’t mind if I do.” Ezra poured two large
whiskies, passed one to his visitor and then took a seat across from
him. They sat drinking in silence for almost a full minute. “How is your mother?” Ezra nodded. “Yes,” he
acknowledged. Josiah had deduced the source of his discontent.
“She will be here any moment - a surprise visit.” “Is that a problem?” “No. Well…” Ezra
smirked. “My mother, as you well know, is a source of many problems.” “She is an amazing woman.” “Yes, indeed.” The
smile slipped from Ezra’s face, replaced by a concerned pout. “My
mother has always been confident. Independent.
Strong. I would even go so far as to say hard and
cold.” Noting Josiah’s frown, Ezra elaborated. “Please do
not think I necessarily see the latter two as faults. They are
essential qualities in a business woman.” “But not in a mother,”
Josiah stated, carefully. “Perhaps, but that is not
the source of my concern. I have never seen my mother show any
emotion that was not first calculated for a purpose.” “That’s harsh.” Ezra sipped his
drink. “I am not blind to mother’s faults, nor to the fact she’s perfected the art of being who she needs to
be for every audience… even me. However, the other night…”
His voice faded as he reflected. Josiah waited patiently. “I know she loves my
father. Yet, when I asked her why she left him…” Ezra
dragged his attention from the painting on the wall and looked at
Josiah. “I saw fear in her eyes. She begged me not to
pursue my questions.” “Then perhaps that is
best.” Ezra shook his head.
“When I say fear… it was more than that. Pain as well. Even
panic.” “Because of your father?” Ezra nodded uneasily.
“I don’t know if I should be worried.” Ezra stared down
into his whiskey and his voice dropped. “I just want to
make sure she’s okay.” Josiah nodded
thoughtfully. “Admitting weakness to one’s child would, I imagine, be
one of the most difficult things a parent could do. Talking about
one’s problem to a professional, however, may be easier.” Ezra stared at his friend. “If you like, I could talk
to her. I am qualified.” Ezra felt the tension
between his shoulder blades ease. “Josiah,
that would be… Thank you.” “Anything she says to me
would be confidential of course,” Josiah pointed out. “I understand. I
don’t need to know what is wrong. I just need to confirm
she’s okay. Mother would never admit she was in trouble or
couldn’t cope. She would never ask for help.” He
paused. “I suppose I can’t criticize her for a fault I have
inherited from her.” “A fault you have
corrected,” Josiah whispered. A grateful smile slipped
onto Ezra’s face. Thanks to Josiah and the others, it was a fault he’d
had no choice but to amend. “I’m in your debt.” “Debts are only for
friends and strangers. We are neither.” An amazing sense of
belonging blanketed Ezra. “Thank you.” ********** Chris slowed the rental
car as the ranch gates loomed ahead. Spanning the entrance was a
huge sign, ‘Tanner Ranch.’ He glanced at his passenger who had
been silent for the twenty minutes since leaving Molly Jefferson’s
home. In the past two weeks, Vin
had discovered a great deal about his past… perhaps too much. The
deep grimace etched into his features worried Chris. “We can
leave this for tomorrow, if you like?” Tanner made no response,
his intense gaze directed at the iron gate… lost somewhere in
what-might-have-been. Chris pulled the car to
the side of the road and shut off the motor. For several moments
Vin sat in silence, apparently not noticing. He blinked. “Why have we
stopped?” Larabee waited until his
friend turned to him. “We should book into a motel and tackle
this tomorrow.” “Stop motherin’
me, Larabee.” He opened the door. “I can take it from here.” Chris rolled his
eyes. “Get in.” Vin paused, looking back
over his shoulder, his face set in a determined frown. “All I’m saying is…”
“I need to do this.” ”Look, I don’t want to
harp on this, but this time last week, you collapsed. I know
you’ve been suffering memory seizures today. I’m just saying we
could leave visiting the ranch until tomorrow.” “No.” Chris shook his
head. “Stubborn bastard.” Vin held Chris’
gaze. Chris started the car. Vin pulled the door
closed. “I knew I should have
brought Nathan along on this trip.” “I don’t need no doctor.” “Who said anything about
you?” Chris grumbled. ********* The driveway was a mile
long, open pastures on either side. “They’ve got some good
quality stock,” Chris commented, eyeing the horses grazing freely. Vin didn’t respond.
Chris noted his friend was gripping the photo of his mother with white
knuckled tension. Not a good sign. Molly’s words about Eric
Tanner echoed in his mind…’Hard to anger, but when he lost his temper,
everyone ran for the hills.’ The same was true of his
son. The ranch house appeared
through the trees. It was large and old, but well
maintained. To the left was a corral containing a dozen
horses. There were men milling around watching a horse being
broken. Chris pulled the car into the small parking area. He turned to his friend
who was staring at the house. “Are you sure about this?” “Just want to have a look
around.” Vin’s voice was eerily calm. Chris glanced heavenward
for help, then undid his seatbelt and stepped out of the car. Vin
joined him. “Do you want to meet the family?” Chris asked
carefully. It was something he felt they needed to clarify before
proceeding. Vin’s frown
deepened. “Just want to see the ranch,” he repeated. “Ain’t
interested in the people.” Chris pursed his lips,
noting the bitter edge to Vin’s voice. Vin’s anger was
simmering. This definitely wasn’t a good idea. “The old man may
not have known, Vin. The way Molly told the story, he
didn’t. Maybe you should…” Chris was interrupted by the
approach of a cowhand. “Can I help you?” Chris turned to Vin.
The ball was in his court. Tanner’s brow
furrowed. “Yeah, I’d like to see John Tanner.” The young man, no more
than seventeen, inclined his head to the house. “He’s inside, but
you’ll need an appointment. His secretary is straight through the
front door. She’ll set one up for you.” “Thanks.” Vin started toward the
house. Chris grabbed his arm and
pulled him to a stop. “You don’t need to do this.” “You’re the one who said I
should.” Vin’s anger was only barely contained. Chris shook his
head. “I was pointing out your options. It’s been a big
day. There’s no reason to rush.” “I ain’t rushing. I
ain’t interested in these people. I’m interested in
finding out about my father. Old man Tanner may be able fill in
some of the blanks.” Vin tugged free and set
off. Chris cursed softly. Vin was past the point of no
return. Chris regretted not turning the car around when he’d had the
chance. Not that he blamed Vin. The Tanner family was partially
responsible for Vin growing up with strangers rather than in the
embrace of a woman who loved him. Years of heartache were fueling
Vin’s dissolving calm and Chris couldn’t condemn him for that.
What he needed to do was protect his friend from himself. Larabee jogged to catch up
and purposefully bumped into Vin, drawing his attention. They
stared at each other. Calm down. Vin’s eyes narrowed. “Let me do the talking.” “No.” It was
snapped. Chris frowned. Vin could
ruin his chance of establishing a positive relationship with his kin.
“Lieutenant, I’ll do the talking.” Vin stopped,
his glare harsh and determined. “With all due respect, Colonel,
this is my business.” “Your business is my
business, you stubborn jackass, and right now, all you want to do is
punch someone in the face. Tell me I’m wrong?” Vin opened his mouth but
no words were forthcoming… only a rumbling growl from deep in the back
of his throat. “That knot in your stomach
is one I know… too damn well. You want to take a swing at
someone, swing at me. You’ve judged your father’s whole family without
laying eyes on them. That’s not like you.” Vin’s face twisted and he
looked away. Chris’ words had hit the mark. Larabee reached out
and squeezed his friend’s shoulder, feeling the tense muscles moving
under his fingers. “These people…” Vin
grilled through his tightly clenched jaw. “… took
away my life. All for a chunk of land I’m not even interested
in. “These people…” “…may not have any idea
you exist. You need someone to blame -- I get that. Ryan
Taylor is a definite. If Molly is right, maybe Mary-Ellen and
Richard, but at least give your grandfather a chance to explain
himself. You go in there spitting hellfire and brimstone and you
may lose the chance to find out about your father. How about we get the
facts first and then, if cracking heads is warranted, I’ll help you and
enjoy it.” Vin sighed, exhaling
slowly. Finally he turned back to Chris. The pain in his eyes
touched Chris’ soul. It was a look he’d seen in the mirror many
times. “We’ll come back tomorrow… with clear heads.” Vin sighed and conceded
with a nod. “Yeah. Let’s make the appointment for the
morning.” Chris’ relief was evident
in his smile. ********** |
|
Part Four The middle aged woman
looked up as the pair entered the room. Chris walked directly to the
desk while Vin moved to the far side, examining some photos on the wall. “I’d like to make an
appointment to see John Tanner.” “If it is pertaining to
the business, Mr. Tanner has handed all business related matters to his
son, Richard.” “It’s a private matter.” The woman peered at Chris
over her spectacles. “I see. I’m afraid I must ask you to be more
specific.” “I said it’s private,”
Chris repeated. The woman pushed her
glasses up her nose. “Yes, Sir, and I am instructed to
ask everyone as to what their business relates, then make a decision as to whether Mr.
Tanner would be interested.” Vin strode to stand beside
Chris. In a deadpan voice he stated, “I think he’s my
grandfather.” The woman blinked in
obvious shock. “I see.” She rose, knocked on a set of
double doors to the right of her desk and disappeared inside. “Looks like we see him
today,” Vin murmured. Chris faced his
friend. “Vin…” “It’s all right, Chris. I
hear you. I know I’m…” “On the point of
exploding.” Vin smirked.
“Yeah. I got it under control.” The secretary reappeared,
beckoning them to enter and then she shut the door behind them. The room was large and
decorated with photos of horses. In the center sat a man writing at a
huge oak desk. Vin drew in a deep
breath. As a child he’d wondered what his grandparents had looked
like. So this was his grandfather. “You are the third person
to claim to be a missing Tanner heir since the death of my son.”
The man’s hair was white, his voice deep and calm. He continued
to write, not bothering to look up. “I assume you are claiming to
be Eric’s offspring? Eric had no children so take your claims and try
them out on someone else. I hear the Montgomeries
are looking for an heir.” Vin’s eyebrows drew
down. “I ain’t interested in your damn money. I came to
find out about my father, nothing more.” Chris gripped his friend’s
shoulder. “How very noble,” the old
man muttered, still not looking up. “I suggest you ask your
mother.”
“Then either you have been
lied to, or you are attempting to defraud my family… and I won’t allow
anyone to do that. I suggest you go and do some research or
contact my lawyers. They are now well practiced in dealing with the
likes of you.” Chris felt his own anger
boil. “I’m Colonel Christopher Larabee, leader of Em7.” John Tanner looked
up. “So?” “So if you pulled your
head out of your ass and gave Lieutenant Tanner two minutes of your
obviously so precious time, maybe we can get to the bottom of this.” “Forget it,” Vin growled.
“I found out all I needed.” The old man shifted his
hard gaze from Chris to Vin… and his face paled. Vin spun around and
blasted out of the room. Chris stared at John
Tanner. “Your loss.” With that, he followed Vin out of the
house. ********** Vin headed straight for
the car. When he arrived, he attempted to open the door. It was
locked. His temper blew. He curled his hand into a fist, pulled
back his arm and let fly at the window. Something slammed into
his back, sending the punch flying over the roof of the car… probably
saving him from fracturing his hand. “Hey! Easy.”
Rough hands spun him around and he found himself face to face with a
very concerned Chris. Everything was blurred,
the anger he felt burning through his heaving chest. “Boy, you’re
a Tanner,” he spat. “Don’t you ever forget that.
I thought that was something I was supposed to live up to!” “I know,” Chris stated. He
gripped Vin’s shoulders. “Molly said your father was a good man.
Don’t let the fact he had an asshole for a father take that
away.” Vin stared into his
friend’s face and his anger died. He shut his eyes briefly,
climbing above the disappointment that remained. “I came to find
out about him,” he whispered, looking at Chris. “I guess I have.
He was waiting until he was 25 to access his trust fund and get the
hell out of here. I understand now.” “Let’s go home.” Yeah. As Chris rounded the car,
a man in his fifties approached them uncertainly. He was staring at Vin, his
jaw literally hanging open. “My God. Eric.” Vin shook his head.
“No.” The man blinked, swallowed
and offered his hand. “I’m Robert Symonds. You’re Emma’s
boy, aren’t you?” Chris joined the
pair. “Yeah.” Robert continued to shake
his head. “I suspected you had to be… but Emma denied it. I
didn’t understand then, but I do now. She was afraid. I’ll
take you to see your grandfather.” “Don’t bother. He
doesn’t want to know me.” “What?” Robert
appeared genuinely surprised. “But…” Robert’s eyes drifted
over Vin’s shoulder. Vin turned to discover John Tanner
approaching. The old man nodded to
Robert before settling his attention on Vin. “Would you give me
two minutes of your time?” Was it a peace
offering? Vin flicked his gaze to Chris who shrugged and
hesitantly, Vin followed the old man back into the house. John Tanner turned into a
hall signed ‘private’. Vin waited for Chris and the pair
proceeded together. Old man Tanner stopped and
inclined his head to a portrait on the wall. Vin stared up at the
painting, his eyes widening. It was his face. His eyes. His build. A man in jeans and shirt,
his thumbs tucked in his belt. Chris’ breath caught in
his throat. “My God. It’s you, Vin.” Vin couldn’t take his eyes
off the painting of his father. John Tanner tentatively
placed his hand on Vin’s arm. “Forgive an old man who spoke first
instead of looking at what was in front of his face. I can’t
believe it.” Vin dragged his eyes from
the painting. “You didn’t know about me?” It was more a
statement than a question. “No. I heard what
Robert said. You’re Emma’s boy?” “Yeah.” A single tear escaped John
Tanner’s right eye. “I liked your mother. She was a sweetheart.” “Yet you wouldn’t give
them your blessing,” Vin accused. It had been a thought that found
voice without his consent. Chris moved quickly, his
hand settling in the middle of his friend’s back. John Tanner looked
stunned. “But I did give them my blessing.” “What?” Vin and Chris
responded together. “I knew Eric had fallen
for Emma even before he did. I told him as soon as they were
ready, they had my blessing.” Vin stared into the
elderly man’s face. He saw pain and regret, but most of all, he
saw honesty. Turning to the painting, Vin allowed himself to be
drawn in by his father’s expression. “It doesn’t make sense,” he
whispered. Blue eyes stared back at him. Who were you?
Why did you marry Ma in secret? You don’t look like a coward.
The eyes of his father pierced him. Strength was reflected.
What motivated you to hide when you had your family’s blessing?
What the hell were you afraid of? “Pa?” Vin spun toward the
speaker. A man in his late forties approached. Unlike
John Tanner, who was casually dressed, this man wore a suit and tie. “Richard, come here.” The man continued down the
hall but stopped dead as his gaze settled on Vin. “What the…?” “This is Vin.” John’s face
lit with pure, unadulterated happiness… Richard’s with shock.
“He’s Eric’s son.” ********** “Buck… Buck!... BUCK!” J.D. forced his way through the
bevy of ladies. “Hey, CASANOVA! We’re going to miss out on
tickets if we don’t hurry.” Buck grinned. “I’m a
little busy, kid. You go and purchase the tickets. I’ll
wait here.” “And you flew through a
hurricane?” another adoring fan asked, her voice high with excitement
and awe. “It was either that, or my
team died.” J.D. spun and shouldered
his way out of the growing crowd. “Then what happened?” “Well, I got there in
time, but all of the boys weren’t there. Two missing.” “So you jumped off the
chopper to save them?” “I’ve probably given you
lovely ladies too many details already.” “You did! You went
yourself didn’t you?!” J.D. marched off, strains
of ‘Buck, you’re wonderful’… ‘Buck, you’re so brave’… and ‘Buck, kiss
me’, ringing in his ears. ********** Richard stood, looking as
if he was staring at a ghost. “I… I’d ask if you were certain,
but I suppose that’s pointless.” He offered his hand, which Vin
took. “I’m… “ He blinked,
trying to clear his mind. “I’m sorry. It is somewhat
disconcerting. I thought Martin looked like Eric, but…” He
withdrew his hand. “Richard! We’ve got
a problem,” a cowhand cried, appearing at the top of the hall. Richard continued to stare
at Vin. “I…Please excuse me.” Vin nodded. John Tanner watched his
son go. “You must forgive Richard. He’s never truly gotten
over Eric’s death. I suppose none of us have.” “Oh?” “Eric was thrown from a
horse.” John Tanner’s eyes became moist. “It was
unthinkable… an unthinkable accident. He was practically born in
the saddle. Richard was riding with him that day.” “Mr. Tanner!” It was the
same cowhand. “The north fence is down. Bambino’s out.” “What! I’m on my
way. Get everyone mounted. Find the children.” John
turned to Vin. “Wait. Please. Just wait a few
minutes. I’ll be back.” He jogged off, disappearing with
the cowhand, firing further instructions. “So, Richard was riding
with Pa when he died.” “Don’t start jumping to
conclusions, Sherlock,” Chris whispered, eyeing the painting. “My
God, you look like him.” Vin nodded. “Yeah.
Why would they marry in secret if they had the old man’s
blessing?” “You believe him then?” Vin gazed up at his
father’s image. “Yeah. I do.” He sighed. “What are you doing back
here?” A tall, angular woman snapped, approaching them with long
easy strides. She was immaculately dressed, her eyes hard. As Vin turned, her face
went white and she screamed. “Ma’am? It’s okay,” Vin
assured, raising his hands for calm. “I’m…” The woman began to
tremble, her hand covering her mouth. “Eric?” A hoarse whisper of
shock. Her eyes rolled and with a gasp, she collapsed. **********
Would Josiah convince
Maude to open up? To Ezra’s knowledge, no other person had
succeeded. Then again, Josiah wasn’t any other person. He
was the most disarming man Ezra had ever met. He asked the right
questions… told the correct illogical stories. A truly remarkable
man. Ezra glanced at the clock
on the wall. He and Josiah had three hours before they needed to
be at the office. It should be enough time. Ezra upended his glass,
the whiskey burning his throat as it went down. Whiskey was not
his drink of choice… certainly not at this time of day… but he longed
for the numbness it brought. Something wasn’t right in his
parent’s past -- more than not right. Anger, hurt, even betrayal,
he could have accepted and dealt with, but fear? It had been
fear on his mother’s face when speaking of what had happened all those
years ago. Fear of what? Of his
father? Ezra’s frown permeated his
soul. He couldn’t let this lie. He couldn’t ignore
it. He loved his mother and liked his father… okay, more than
liked his father. He had felt an insistent affinity with Wilhelm
Standish. Had he let his guard down? The answer to that
only left him demanding ‘why?’ Why had he let this stranger so
close so quickly? Wilhelm had been responsible for shooting
Nathan with a tranquilizer dart and poisoning Josiah. His actions
had almost cost Vin his life. Yet, Ezra hadn’t cast him
aside. Why? Ezra began to pace,
muttering under his breath. His unplanned route took him back to
the whiskey decanter and he refilled his glass, draining it
immediately… knowing he shouldn’t, but not caring. Out of the corner of his
eye, he spotted himself in the mirror behind the bar and grimaced at
the raw emotion reflected back at him. There was only one person
on the planet who could push all of his buttons effortlessly and who
could send him into a tailspin like this. “Mother.” Ezra squeezed his eyes
closed, trying to reclaim the perfect poker face he was renowned for…
that his mother expected of him. The only thing that was
important was ensuring his mother was okay. Nothing else mattered. He didn’t need to know
what had happened between his parents. He didn’t. It wasn’t his business. He accepted that. Yet… He twisted his head toward
the door, staring at it intently. Beyond, he could hear muffled
voices. ********** Vin rushed forward,
catching the woman before her head hit the floor. “Chris,” he
spluttered, lowering her gently. Larabee appeared on the
other side, shaking his head. “You’re having a powerful effect on
women today. If they’re not trying to hug and kiss you, they’re
fainting. I feel like I’m with Buck.” “Shut up.” “Let’s find her a chair
and get a member of the family.” “Mary-Ellen?” Vin mused. Chris nodded. “I’m
guessing so.” Together the two men
cradled the woman in their arms, carried her down the hall and spotting
an empty family room, entered and lowered her into a chair. Chris tapped her face
lightly. “You better step back. We don’t want her passing
out again.” Vin followed his friend’s
instruction, watching with concern. The woman was around seventy years
old, but age had not taken her looks. Her grey hair was cut short
in a modern style and her clothes, while casual, gave the impression of
authority. “She thought I was Eric.” “After seeing that
painting, I don’t blame her,” Chris murmured. “Ma’am?” “Mother!” Richard
and John flew into the room, the younger of the two glaring at
Chris. “What happened?” “She took one look at Vin
and fainted.” Larabee stepped back to allow them access. Richard crouched as his
mother blinked her eyes open. John Tanner picked up his wife’s
hand. “Mary-Ellen?” Vin and Chris exchanged a
glance. Larabee’s chin bobbed. The
wicked step-mother. The woman shifted her gaze
from her husband to her son. “I… I thought I saw…” John nodded his
understanding. “No, darling. I know what you thought… I did
too, for a moment. Try to calm yourself. This is going to
be a shock, but a good shock. A wonderful shock.”
He stepped to the side and beckoned his grandson forward. Vin didn’t move. John was clearly puzzled
but continued. “This is Vin… Eric’s son.” Mary-Ellen’s face
tightened, her hand once again covering her mouth. Slowly she
shook her head. “It can’t be.” Richard and John turned to
stare at Vin too. Silence crashed. The ceiling fan whirled
above. The sounds of shouts from
outside seemed distant. A fly buzzed near the
window. The phone on the table
next to Richard rang, shattering the surreal atmosphere.
Mary-Ellen blinked several times, lowering her hand. Vin continued to study the
trio, unsure what to think or feel. Chris edged closer to him. Richard scooped up the
phone, snapping, “Who? Larabee? No Larabee here. You’ve
got…” “I’m Larabee,” Chris
stated, reaching for the phone with surprise. “Larabee.”
Chris immediately dug in his pocket and withdrew his cell. “No
reception out here… Priority One?” Vin’s head locked on
him. “The President?” Chris held up his
hand. “Got it. We’ll meet you there in forty
minutes.” Chris handed the phone back to Richard. “Vin,
we’re on.” “Priority One?” That
meant the President - either a threat to him or a request from him. Chris nodded.
“Buck’s been trying to contact us for the last hour and a half, but
there’s no reception here. He’ll be landing at the airport in
forty minutes.” Vin turned to his
wide-eyed relatives. “I have to go.” John’s face shadowed with
horror. “No! Please.” Vin’s chest tightened
without explanation. “I… I’m sorry. I don’t have a choice.” Chris inclined his head,
jogging from the room. Vin remained frozen.
“I… um…” “Please stay,” John
begged, walking forward and placing his hand on his grandson’s
shoulder. “We have so much to say… so much to find out. You
can’t just appear on our doorstep and then vanish again.” Vin wanted to stay.
This was exactly what he’d prayed for when he was a child… his
family. “Boy, you’re a Tanner.” He was a Tanner.
These people were his family… a family who had rejected him?
Who had sent him away? “I… I have to go.” He turned,
but a soft hand gripped his arm. Vin swallowed as
Mary-Ellen eased him around, slid her hand up to his face, studying
every inch of it. “Eric’s son?” she asked. Vin nodded.
“Yes, Ma’am.” “It’s not… I…” She
shook her head, the action allowing her to regain her composure.
She glanced at her husband, who nodded, affirming his belief Vin was
his grandson. Mary-Ellen turned back to Vin and with a smile, she leaned forward and kissed him on the
cheek before wrapping him tightly in her arms. Richard stepped forward,
placing his hand on Vin’s arm. John wrapped his arm around his
grandson’s back. Vin felt his sense of
reality sliding. This wasn’t happening. He’d expected to be
rejected. Perhaps, he’d even wanted to be rejected. After
all, he’d experienced rejection most of his life. “Ma’am… Ma’am,
I have to go,” he whispered emotionally, gently easing her back and
stepping away from the others. Tears began to spill from
Mary-Ellen’s emerald eyes. “Please stay,” she begged. John put his arm around
her. “Vin… please.” Richard opened his mouth
to say something, but instead just pleaded with his eyes. Vin stared at the three of
them. They were looking at him with such longing. “Lieutenant!” The order jolted Vin free
of the web of emotion. He spun toward the door, responding
automatically “Yes, Sir.” At the last moment, he looked over his
shoulder, “I’ll call as soon as I can.” ********** |
|
Part Five Maude eyed Josiah
carefully. He had said little since Ezra left and she found
herself making small talk. “As always, Ezra is as
subtle as a brick.” “Ma’am?” “Obviously he left us
alone for a reason. If it is about the drug we gave you…” “No,” Josiah interrupted
politely. “Water under the bridge. You were doing what you felt best
for Ezra. I would expect nothing less of his parents.” “Then?” Maude demanded,
lighting a cigarette. “Your behavior since the
return of your husband has been out of character.” “I wouldn’t have thought
so… nor would I have thought it was any of your business,” she added
with an almost triumphant smile. However, Josiah could see beyond it to
the panic Ezra had identified. Josiah nodded
thoughtfully. “True, but it is clear you have something weighing
on your mind which you need to talk to someone about.” Maude flashed Josiah
daggers as she rose to her feet. Clearly the conversation was
over. “I don’t need to speak to anyone.” “Ezra believes you do.” “He would,” Maude snorted,
walking toward the door and blowing smoke in rings. “He’s worried… and he’s
hurting, which I know is the last thing you want.” Maude paused, turning back
to Josiah as he rose to his feet. Her poker face faltered. “Ma’am, I’m a fully
qualified psychologist. What is exchanged between us is
confidential and won’t leave this room.” She blinked. “He
asked you to…” “Yes. He’s very
worried. As a matter of fact, in all the time I’ve known him,
I’ve never seen him so troubled. It hurts him to see you in pain.” “But… I… He told you
that?” “In so many words,
yes.” Maude drew in a deep
breath, considering what Josiah had said. “Maude, he saw the fear in
your face. The same fear I see now. You can not live your
life in fear. It will tear you apart… and it will do the same to
Ezra if he has to watch it happen. For both of your sakes, you
need to do something about this. If you aren’t comfortable
talking to me, then I can arrange for someone else.” She swallowed. The
character she showed the world failed, dissolving in front of Josiah’s
eyes. Josiah took her arm and
led her to a chair. He nodded encouragement and she sat, stubbing
out her cigarette. The metamorphosis, for that was the only way
Josiah could describe it later on, was incredible. The calm,
composed and confident lady he had known for the last two years was
gone. Maude lowered her eyes and began wringing her hands in her
lap. “Take it slowly,” Josiah
prompted. Maude opened her mouth but
there were no words. She shut her eyes. “Don’t be afraid. It
is just you and me.” Josiah waited, but Maude appeared frozen,
staring down at her lap… at her left ring finger where her wedding band
rested. “Wilhelm Standish…” Josiah prompted. “I love him. I’ve
always loved him.” The words catapulted out of her with speed but
no volume. Her voice shook with real emotion, not the calculated
performance Ezra had spoken of. Josiah sat back in his
chair. “Go on,” he encouraged gently. “I don’t know what to
say. He was everything I’d ever hoped for.” She raised her
chin to look at the huge man seated across from her. Josiah marveled at
her. In the past, her beauty had been regal and perfect.
Now, she looked younger… vulnerable… but more beautiful than ever. It
was also apparent she wanted to talk about this… had probably wanted to
tell someone – anyone – for years. “And he loved me.”
There was almost innocence in the tone… as if it shocked her. “He
didn’t care about any of the things other men did. He simply
loved me and I loved him. More than I’ve ever loved anyone… apart
from Ezra. Wilhelm and I married almost immediately and …
it was amazing.” She smiled. “Like Romeo and Juliet.
That’s what he called me.” She lowered her face again.
“Sounds silly now.” “Not at all. There
is nothing silly about love, Maude.” Maude sat in silence,
slowly removing her wedding band and studying it intently. Josiah waited and then
asked, “But things didn’t work out?” “Things were perfect. It
was like the rest of the world didn’t exist. Nothing mattered. We
lived for the moment. But…” Her face twisted and she
swallowed. Tears welled in her beautiful eyes which had become
distant as she recalled a past memory. Unconsciously she began
shaking her head. “His face,” she whispered in horror. “His
eyes were so intense… evil. I…” She wiped the tears with
one finger. “He has a dark side?” Maude shut her eyes, her
voice hollow and low. “That night I knew something wasn’t quite
right. He was drunk, and I put it down to that. His eyes.
His language was…” Her face shadowed with horror. “I said
no, but he wouldn’t stop.” Josiah’s eyebrows drew
down. “Ma’am?” Maude blinked, a single
tear dropping down onto her cheek where it teetered for a several
seconds before falling. “He was rough and… leering at me.”
Her tears began to flow freely as she choked out, “I begged him
to stop.” The door burst open and
Ezra flew into the room, his eyes wide with horror
“WHAT! Are you saying he attacked you!” ********** Vin jogged out to the car
which Chris was reversing. He felt numb – conflicted.
They’d wanted him to stay… begged him to stay. Why? Guilty
consciences? Or a genuine desire to get to know him? He
knew he didn’t have time to dwell on his personal life. Em7 had a
mission and it was essential he focus on that. He ripped the door
open while the car was still moving and jumped in. “Buck give any details?”
Images of John, Mary-Ellen
and Richard’s faces continued to plague Vin. With great effort,
he forced himself to concentrate. “Our office?” “Apparently. Buck’s
been trying to contact us…” Out of the corner of his
eye, Vin spotted…”Stop!” Larabee looked around
wildly, slamming on the brakes. In the paddock beside them, a
young girl was standing rooted to the spot. Twenty feet away was 1000
pounds of angry bull. Vin dived from the car
yelling, “Chris!” “Go!” Larabee agreed,
turning and racing back toward the house. Vin vaulted the fence, his
heart pounding. “Stand still, Honey. Don’t move.” The child, about twelve,
nodded. Tears fell onto her cheeks. Her young face was
ashen and she was trembling, but she continued to face the bull as
she’d been taught. Vin approached very slowly
from the right, his attention on the bull. Bambino’s dark eyes
were riveted to the child, its massive body tense and primed. “He’s angry,” the girl
whispered. “Stay real still.”
Vin’s plan was simple - place himself between the enraged bull and the
girl. He knew if he could get the bull to focus on him, the child
should be able to escape. “What’s your name?” “Claire.” Her voice
wavered with terror. “I’m Vin.” He
continued to inch very slowly toward the child, his finely tuned senses
monitoring the bull. “When I reach you, I’m going to stand directly in
front of you so Bambino can’t see you. Then, I want you to move
straight backwards until I tell you to run. Do you understand?” “Yes.” “Good girl.’ Vin watched the bull,
scrutinizing its reaction. The animal was now alternating its
glare between he and Claire. Vin
exhaled slowly. He knew he could save the child. As for
himself…he wasn’t sure what Chris was going to do, but his colonel
would get him out of this, of that, Vin had no doubt. Abruptly, the bull’s
breathing rate changed… increasing. Its massive chest began to
heave. Vin quickened his
step. He crossed in front of Claire. “Okay, Honey.
Don’t run for the fence. I want you to back up slowly and keep
going straight backwards. Understand?” “Now?” “Now.” Vin watched the
increasingly agitated bull, listening to the rustling of the child’s
steps. “Keep going, Claire.” Abruptly, Vin identified
movement to his right. Some of the Tanner cowhands were arriving
on the scene. “Don’t make any sudden noises or movements,” he
softly called to them. “Bambino ain’t happy.” “Claire!” Richard’s
voice. Vin maintained eye-contact
with the bull. The muscles in the animal’s shoulders
quivered. Any moment now… “I’ve got her, Vin.
She’s safe,” Richard called. “Just stay still. Mark’s got
the tranquillizer gun. He’ll…” The bull charged. “NO!” Richard screamed. Vin kept his head,
remaining still. Help would come, but it had better hurry. To his right came the
thundering of hoofs. Out of the corner of this eye, he saw a blur
jump the fence. Vin turned, reached out and allowed Chris to rip
him up into the saddle a split second before the bull would have mowed
him down. Bambino slid to a stop,
turned and charged again. Chris yanked on the horse’s
reins. The mare arced and galloped back toward the fence. With
effort, it jumped carrying its two riders. Snorting with rage,
Bambino stormed the railing, stopping a few inches before colliding
with it. With a roar, he turned and shot off in the opposite
direction. Spontaneous cries and
cheers erupted from the small group of cowhands. “Vin?” Chris demanded. “In one piece,” Vin
confirmed. Chris patted the neck of
the horse. “Thanks, girl.” He and Vin dismounted, Larabee handing
the reins of the faithful animal to the closest cowhand. All
those around them were now staring in stupefied silence. “That… that was… WOW!” one
man cried. “She okay?” Vin called to
Richard, even as he turned for the car. Richard held his sobbing
daughter in his arms, his eyes wide. “Yes. I… Vin…Vin, I must
talk with you. Please.” Richard Tanner didn’t strike Vin as
a man who begged often. “Lieutenant!” Chris
bellowed, racing for the vehicle. “Coming, Sir.” To
Richard he yelled, “I’ll call.” Vin dived back into the car and
even before he shut the door, Chris planted the accelerator. Vin looked back as they
pulled away in a cloud of dust. Through the rear window he
saw a very stunned and torn Richard lift his arm, wave and mouth the
words, ‘thank you.” ********** “Ezra!” Maude and Josiah
cried simultaneously. Josiah rushed toward
him. “I told you I’d handle this. You can’t be here.
This is confidential. You must leave.” Ezra roughly pushed past
Josiah, staring at his mother. “He
r…?” The word got stuck in his throat and refused to be voiced. Tears streamed down
Maude’s cheeks, but she shook her head. “Wilhelm could never hurt
me. I…he.” Her composure shattered and she wept. Ezra stood still, his arms
hanging at his sides. “Mother, I don’t understand.” “It wasn’t Wilhelm who…” Ezra’s face
contorted. “It wasn’t....” He crossed to her and knelt
down. “I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t mean to… Please, don’t
cry.” Maude looked up, taking
his hand. “I should have told you a long time ago. That
night… the night I left your father, he wasn’t in my bed. It was
his brother, Heinz.” Ezra frowned. “You…
with his brother?” He was astounded. His mother was a lot
of things, but wasn’t, nor had ever been, adulterous. “No. I… I didn’t
know. I…” She lowered her face. “You were drunk?” Ezra
pressed. Maude’s voice dropped so
low, both Ezra and Josiah had to strain to hear. “They are identical.” “Twins?” Josiah clarified. “As I leaped off the bed
to get away, I saw the band-aid. Heinz had cut his
finger. It wasn’t Wilhelm… but it was Wilhelm’s face.
Wilhelm’s eyes. Wilhelm’s voice.” She began to weep
again. “I can’t believe I thought for one moment it was
actually Wilhelm. I had to get away. I drove straight to
the airport and caught the first plane out. Landed in Paris,
waited there and then flew back to the States. I rang Wilhelm
from the airport in France and told him it was over. He… he was
devastated. He followed me home and through a locked door I told
him I was seeing someone else… it was a lie but I couldn’t face him.” Ezra’s brow furrowed with
confusion. “Mother, I don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell
him what happened?” “How?” Maude
demanded. “They’re brothers.” “Surely he would have
believed you? You were his wife.” “Perhaps,” Josiah
murmured. “Yet, we didn’t tell Chris Liam had attempted to kill
Vin for we feared his reaction – we feared he would believe kin.” Maude shook her
head. “You don’t understand. It was more than that.
That night it wasn’t Wilhelm but… it was his face. His
eyes. His voice saying those dreadful things. I knew it could
never be the same. I knew I wouldn’t be able to look at him
without thinking of… even though it hadn’t been him. A few
weeks later I discovered I was pregnant. I could never go
back.” “But mother…”
Abruptly, Ezra’s face shadowed with comprehension. “Oh, God.
Wilhelm isn’t my father!” ********* Richard entered the
library where his mother stood staring out the window, her back to
him. Checking the hall, Richard closed the door and turned the
key in the lock to ensure they weren’t disturbed. “Richard?” Mary
Ellen didn’t turn. “Claire is well?” “She’s still shaken but
okay thanks to… “ Richard paused, drawn to
a family photo on the wall showing his older brother Eric with his arm
over a much younger Richard’s shoulders. “He saved Claire’s
life.” Richard drew in a deep breath. “Mother, he’s Eric’s
son.” “Yes.” Mary Ellen’s
voice was low. Richard swallowed.
“We…” “No.” “Mother, it is going to
come out. Father…” “It won’t.” Still
Mary Ellen remained stock still, staring out the window and looking out
over the expansive Tanner Ranch. Richard’s face
twisted. “I can’t believe…His eyes… God, mother. It’s like
Eric walked back into the house after 25 years… looking exactly the
same… exactly the way he did the day he died.” Emotion strangled
the statement. Richard shook his head and sank into the closest
chair. He lowered head and a soft emotional curse emanated from
him. Mary Ellen turned and
strode across to him, her hand coming to rest on his shoulder. “I
will take care of it.” Richard raised his chin
and shook his head. “No. I will.” Mary Ellen leaned forward
and kissed her son’s brow. “It has to be done,”
Richard whispered with determination. Mary Ellen nodded.
“Ryan Taylor” Richard’s face
shadowed. “I’ll deal with him, Mother.” “And I will pay Molly
Jefferson a visit.” |
|
Part Six “Oh, God. Wilhelm
isn’t my father!” Ezra’s voice echoed in the deathly quiet room. Josiah raised his hands
for calm. Tears spilled from Maude’s
eyes. “I don’t know. If you were conceived that night,
no. If you were conceived any other night, he is. But I
can’t be sure. That was why I… I’m sorry, Ezra.” Her face
reflected horror and regret. “I never wanted you to know.” Ezra blinked, rising to
his feet. “A paternity test. We need to get…” “It won’t help,” Josiah
whispered, placing a strong hand on Ezra’s shoulder. “Identical twins
have identical DNA.” Ezra spun to his friend,
looking at him wildly. “But there has to be some way to…”
The dreadful realization hit him like a physical blow and his body
began to shake. Josiah approached
Maude. “You were afraid to tell Ezra and Wilhelm because you knew
there was no way to be sure.” Maude nodded, tears
leaking from her eyes and trailing down her cheeks. “I wanted to
tell you, Ezra but… so I told you your father was dead. It was
easier than trying to explain.” She shook her head. “The older
you got, the more you looked like Wilhelm.” “And the more I look like
the monster who hurt you,” Ezra stuttered. It all made sense,
now. The reason why his mother had kept sending him away.
Looking at him had been a double edged sword. Josiah quietly left the
room. They deserved some privacy. An hour later, he spotted
Ezra leading his mother upstairs. He returned a few minutes later. “She’s lying down.”
Ezra stared at Josiah, white faced. “I don’t know what to feel?
That monster could be my father.” “No, he couldn’t.” Ezra strode across to the
bar and grabbed the whiskey decanter. “Oh? And what piece
of mysticism has provided you with that absolute?” Josiah stilled Ezra’s hand
and removed the glass. “He is a ruthless and evil man who took
advantage of his brother’s wife through deception. You
could never do that. There is no way he is your father.
Wilhelm Standish is your father.” Ezra blinked as the final
wisps of self-control deserted him. Tears welled in his eyes.
This could not be happening to him. “Josiah…” “Repeat it, brother.” The
tone was firm and left no room for negotiation. Ezra exhaled slowly, at
the same time whispering, “I pray to God Wilhelm is
my father. This is why she lied to him. She’s lived with
this burden all these years.” “She still loves your
father, but…” “She should have told
him.” Anger was finding root. “And faced rejection from
the man she loved?” Josiah asked. “She doesn’t know that!” “And I say again, we
didn’t tell Chris of Liam’s murder attempts. The bond between kin is
unpredictable... and in most cases, unbreakable.” Ezra slowly walked across
to a chair and collapsed into it. “I can’t keep this from him. He
deserves to know the truth.” “Perhaps it is time for
your father to know, but leave it a few days. I’m afraid we are
required at the office shortly – Priority One, remember?” Ezra glared at
Josiah. “I couldn’t care less about…” He stopped abruptly,
recognizing it was a lie. Despite all that was going on in his
life he had a duty to his country and his team. “I can’t leave
her here on her own.” “How about I call Nettie?” “Yes.” Ezra looked
away. Over the years he’d judged his mother harshly. The
practiced ‘character’ she showed the world was not one of her choosing,
but one of necessity. Now he understood why their relationship
lacked a maternal element. He’d never doubted she loved him, but
her actions over the years, which had appeared almost schizophrenic on
occasion, completely made sense now. Most of the time, when she
looked at him, she saw the son she loved… the child of the man she was
married to. Yet, there were occasions when she saw something
else. Those were the times when she’d withdrawn from him,
appearing almost cold. Clearly, it was then she saw in him the
possible offspring of the monster who’d attacked her, betrayed the man
she loved and stolen her life of happiness. ********** The elevator doors burst
open on the top floor of the Eisenhower Security Centre. Chris
and Vin strode from it. Nathan greeted them.
“He’s in the conference room waiting for you, Sir.” Chris nodded and headed in
that direction. “Vin, some guy called
Richard has left three messages for you. Says he’s your uncle and
he wants you to contact him. Said it was important.” “No,” Chris ordered,
without missing a step. “After the mission.” Vin thanked Nathan with a
single bob of the head. On the trip home he and Chris had
discussed the situation concerning his family and agreed they would
pursue matters further once the emergency was past. As Chris passed Ezra he
paused. Standish was staring at the blank wall frowning with such
intensity his brow was deeply furrowed. “Ezra?”
Standish blinked and
glanced up at his leader. “Yes?” Chris’ frown
deepened. He inclined his head toward the gym, indicating Ezra
follow him. Ezra sighed and did so. “What is it?” Larabee
demanded. “Nothing that will
interfere with my ability…” “That’s not what I asked.” Ezra’s immediate reaction
was to defend borders but before he could, Chris extended his hand,
laying it on his arm. “Talk to me.” Ezra’s poker face lost the
battle. “My father is one of twins. His brother forced
himself on my mother and as a result I may be his son, not Wilhelm’s.” Chris squeezed the arm he
held. “I’m sorry.” It was sincere and genuine. “I don’t know what to do,
Chris. I have to tell Wilhelm but…” Ezra’s voice faded.
He’d thought he’d got on top of this on the way to the office, but
clearly he hadn’t. “We’ll deal with it
together.” The tone was soft, supportive but very firm.
“Right now, I need you.” Ezra looked into his
Colonel’s face and in it he found the strength he required. Chris had
no problem admitting he needed Ezra’s help. That meant the world
to Ezra. “Yes, Sir.” Together they entered the
conference room where the rest of the team was collected along with the
President, the President’s personal security guard, Peter Miles and
General Travis. Chris shook each of the guest’s hands in turn
before taking his seat. Ezra nodded politely. “I believe a contract has
been taken out on my life,” the President stated. “It isn’t the
first and I know it won’t be the last.” “Why come to us,
Sir? Surely the CIA or NSA would be better qualified to deal with
this?” “Usually, yes. This
time, there’s a difference. Peter?” Miles nodded to the other
men. He hadn’t forgotten how this team saved his life when he,
the President and two other world leaders crashed into the jungles of
South America. “I have contacts in the ATF. A team
uncovered an arms racket out of Boston. When they raided it one
of the subjects ran. He was killed. No
identification. The skin on his finger tips had been burned.” “A professional assassin,”
Ezra murmured. Seeing the horror on J.D’s face, Ezra
explained. “Many professional assassins scar the tissue on their
fingers to protect their identity.” “All connected with the
raid claimed they didn’t know him. Said he just turned up wanting
to purchase some weapons and was irate when they knew nothing of his
order. In his pocket was this.” The bodyguard handed Chris a
snippet of paper. “Assassinate No. 1 at
Bravo – 6th.” “Bravo?” “It is the code name for
the military and security games starting in two days. The
President always awards the winner at the closing ceremony… which this
year will be held on the 6th,“
Travis explained. “But if the assassin is
dead, it’s over, isn’t it?” J.D. asked. “Perhaps,” Chris
mused. “If this is a professional hit, as it appears, whoever
organized it will likely higher another assassin.” “It is too neat,” Ezra
murmured. “The man just happened to have the piece of paper on
him? I don’t believe in such co-incidences. Besides,
professionals don’t make blaring mistakes like that. This was
meant to find its way to you, Sir,” Ezra stated to the President. “We agree,” Miles
stated. “The bullet that killed the assassin didn’t come from the
weapon of any of the ATF agents or any of the dozens of guns seized.” “The money man shut him up
so he couldn’t talk,” Buck murmured. “Exactly. The
assassin was set up. They sent him to where they knew a raid
would be taking place knowing that piece of paper was on him.
Then they killed him,” Miles recounted his theory. “They?” J.D. asked.
“The problem with your theory is that for someone to have known of the
raid…” “Exactly. Someone
inside the ATF… or at least, with access to ATF files.” “Which
would be CIA, NSA… all of the people I would normally rely on to deal
with this. That’s why I have come to you.” The
President directed his attention to Chris. “While I trust the
leaders of the various organizations, any one of their agents could be
the traitor. Em7, on the other hand, contains only the seven of
you. I trust each of you implicitly. There is no one else
for me to go to.” For several moments there
was silence. “I know one of you is
going to shoot this down in flames, but if the President doesn’t attend
the closing ceremony, they can’t assassinate him,” J.D. reasoned. “That may well work in the
short term but all it truly achieves is delaying the hit and perhaps
providing the assassin with the upper hand. At the moment we know
when and we know where. We just don’t know who ordered it,” Ezra
explained. “If the President doesn’t attend, the assassin will
likely choose another time and place.” “Exactly,” Miles agreed. “How many people know
about this?” Chris asked. “Two ATF agents. As
soon as they found the note, they hid it and contacted me.” “Then they should be our
first suspects?” J.D. queried. Miles turned to
Chris. “One of them is my brother and he vouches for the other
man. Outside them, the only other people who know of that note
are the ones in this room.” “And those who ordered the
hit,” Ezra murmured. “Let us not forget them.” Buck winked at Ezra.
“Boys?” Chris
prompted. “Why let the President know? If we believe this assassin was set up, and
set up so that the note would fall into the hands of the President’s
personal bodyguard via his brother, why make it harder than it needs to
be?” Vin asked. “Ego perhaps,” Ezra
suggested. “Wanting to watch the President stew. Testing
the new President to see if such threats can make him change his
plans. Take your pick.” “So you think this is
legitimate?” Chris asked Ezra. Standish nodded
slowly. “I would like to say no. However, the scarred fingertips takes it to the next level. The
arrogance of it… the venue… the planning behind it… I don’t think there
is any doubt this is legitimate. We are dealing with a
politically motivated assassination.” “I agree. It’s
someone cocky. Someone the United States is presently in conflict
with, or will be in conflict with,” Josiah profiled. “Someone with money,”
Nathan mused. “To pull this off, they’re going to need mega
bucks.” “Could this be a decoy so
we focus on that date and venue?” Vin mused. “And possibly assassinate
the President at a different time?” Miles asked. Josiah shook his
head. “I think not. I think Ezra is on the mark. They
are dangling the carrot in front of our faces. Challenging us to
a duel of wits.” “Why the security games?”
J.D. asked. “Why do it when surrounded by so many trained men and
women who could stop them? Surely that is an unnecessary risk?” “Not at all,” Ezra
disagreed. “We can assume this hit isn’t personal.
Therefore it is symbolic. An attack on America. What better
way to flex your muscles than to assassinate the country’s figure head
while he’s surrounded by the very best of his military and security
organizations?” “You know, Ez. You
worry me. You think like a terrorist,” Buck chuckled. Ezra snorted. “To
capture a snake you must think like it.” Silence fell over the
group and all turned to Chris whose elbows were resting on the table,
his fingers tips pressed together. “Normally I would turn down a
mission like this, Sir,” Chris stated to the President. “It is
outside our purview of experience. However, we don’t have a
choice.” The President offered his
hand, nodded to the rest of Em7 and then he, Miles and Travis left. Chris frowned. “I
don’t like this. We’re soldiers.” “Not all of us,” Ezra
pointed out. Chris eyed Standish.
“Before we start, I want everyone to know as of now,
I’m officially giving Ezra third rank in our chain of command.” J.D. opened his mouth. “That means Ezra takes
leadership of the team if anything happens to both Vin and I,” Chris
clarified. Dunne flicked his
attention to Buck knowing that 3 had been Buck’s position. Wilmington’s
face was blank. “We have two days to get
organized before the games start. J.D., find out everything about the
Bravo Games. History, itinerary, participants etc.” “Yes, Sir.” “Buck, I want to know
everything about the ATF team who found the note.” “Sir.” “Josiah, I want to know
who took out this hit. You think it’s politically motivated?” “Yes.” “Then get me a list of possibles, but first, I want you to stay here
and fill me in on a few things.” “Yes, Sir.” “Nathan, work on an ID for
the assassin found with the note on him. I want to know his movements
for the last month.” “You got it.”
“Ezra, I want to know what
the word on the street is. Someone must know something. And
I want a list of assassins who may take a job like this.” “Of course, Sir.” “Vin, need you to play
devil’s advocate.” Tanner nodded. “Questions?” The group shook heads and
moved off to carry out their colonel’s instructions. Vin pursed his lips as the
others disappeared. “Ezra?” Chris nodded. “I
made the decision about two weeks ago. You have a problem with
it?” There was no aggression. It was a simple
question. He’d asked Vin to play devil’s advocate. “No problem at all.
I was going to suggest it myself.” Vin grinned. “He’s a good man and he’s
cool in a crisis.” “After the crisis, if it
all doesn’t go well, he’ll fall apart,” Vin mused. “Don’t we
all.” “Buck’s a good leader but…” “He’s too emotionally
attached to you and J.D., and if we need him to take the leadership it
means both of us are down and Buck’s priority will be us, not the
survival of the unit.” Vin nodded his
agreement. “It’s getting harder.” Chris eyed his friend,
rose and walked to the coffee pot. “Yeah, it is.” “Because we aren’t just
mates anymore,” Josiah commented. Chris and Vin looked at the
sergeant who’d been sitting silently listening. “We were mates in
Kat. We’re a hell of a lot more than that now.” “First thing we were
taught at the academy was never get too close to your squad. Maintain a
certain amount of distance,” Chris murmured, pouring three mugs of
coffee. “Sensible advice, but not
practical in our situation. We are not a normal squad, nor are we
working behind enemy lines. Our situation is totally different to
anything traditional. The fact we still respond to you automatically
when you give orders shows we can differentiate personal from
professional. When things go wrong, it is harder to turn our back
on the fallen. However, we have done so in the past two months.
We left you and Vin behind to cover our retreat when rescuing the world
leaders. It wasn’t easy, but we did it.” Chris handed Josiah a mug
of coffee. “This isn’t why I asked you to stay, but go on.” “There isn’t anything more
to say, Sir. Out of working hours we’re basically a family.
A strange family, granted, but a family all the same. During
working hours we’re a response team whose first priority and loyalty is
to our nation. We all understand that, and as hard as it is to
put that above the bonds of brotherhood we share, I have no doubt each
and every one of us will do it … except perhaps Buck in certain
situations. You already know that and you’ve taken steps to deal with
it. My only comment would be to pull Buck aside and explain to
him why he has been demoted. Then place at least Nathan ahead of
him in the chain of command. Buck was an exceptional leader in
Kat. and even now is able to plan and
co-ordinate the team… as long as you two and J.D. aren’t hurt.
Buck would be the first to admit it. His loyalty and his ability
to love are two of his greatest strengths, but they are also weaknesses
in a situation where he would have to place a mission above someone he
loved. We shouldn’t place him in that situation.” Chris’ chin bobbed as he
handed Vin a mug of coffee and took a seat. His brow furrowed
deeply, his intense gaze on Vin. “I haven’t been able to leave
you behind to cover our retreat.” Vin nodded
thoughtfully. “Yeah, I’ve noticed that. It’s happened twice.” “That could prove a
problem in the future but I don’t know how to address it.” “No need,” Josiah stated
confidently. “First time it happened it was Vin’s first mission back
and we all knew he was suffering continuous seizures. If he’d had a
major seizure when he was trying to cover the team’s retreat we all
would have died, including the three world leaders. You may not
have been aware of all of the reasons for your decision, Colonel, but
you acted as you should have. The safety of the unit was paramount and
by staying you ensured it. Vin seems to be in control of the seizures
now so there won’t be need for you to remain again… and I know you
won’t.” “You sure about that?”
Chris asked quietly. “Yes,” Josiah stated with
certainty. “I know you, Colonel. No matter how much you
love any one of us, you would never jeopardize the safety of the
majority or the success of a mission to protect one man.” Vin nodded pensively.
“Yeah, but he did it a second time at the dam.” Josiah drained his
coffee. “True, but effectively the mission was over. There
was no threat to the unit. Chris simply chose to die with
you. It was his life to give because for all intents and
purposes, the mission was over, was a success and the majority of the
boys were safe.” Josiah returned his gaze to Chris. “No one can
judge you for that, Sir.” “He’s right. I can’t
judge you for it. I’d like to punch you in the face for it, but
if the roles had been reversed, I’d have done the same thing,” Vin
admitted. “The mission was over,”
Josiah repeated. “There lies the key. If it hadn’t been, you’d
have left with the team because our assignment has to, and always does,
take priority, Sir.” Chris nodded slowly. If
the mission hadn’t been complete, he’d have gotten on the chopper and
left Vin and Josiah. It would have torn him apart, but he’d have
done it. In that he found both relief and horror. “It’s a hell of a job we
do,” Chris murmured. Vin frowned. “Out of
hours we can choose to do what we want with our lives. When we’re
on a mission, our lives don’t belong to us. They belong to the
nation.” “So when did you start
giving motivational speeches?” Chris demanded of Vin. Vin smirked. “That’s
exactly what you told me when we first met in Kat.” “I did?” “Yep.” Chris winked. “I should
write that down. It’s pretty good.” “I’m guessing Josiah told
you what to say.” Chris pinned Vin with an
unimpressed glare which dissolved as a smile creased his lips.
“Smart ass.” Josiah sat back in his
chair contented. “The reason you asked me to stay, Sir?” “A political
assassination,” Chris stated, the mirth gone, the tone showing the
‘colonel’ had returned. “What methods will the assassin most likely
choose?” “Something showy.
Something that will be replayed over and over again on the
television. So you can discount things like poisons. And I
am certain the only time the President will be in danger is when the
camera is on him and he has a large audience. I believe the only
part of the Bravo Games that is televised is the presentation at the
end… and that is live coverage. That’s when the assassination
will take place. I’m sure of it.” Chris sipped his
coffee. “Thanks, Josiah.” Sanchez rose but paused in
the doorway as he was leaving. “Our team has never been stronger,
Colonel. You need have no fear we will follow orders regardless
of our personal feelings.” “I know,” Chris
acknowledged. “On one hand that’s a comfort. On the
other...” “The other is ‘Chris’
speaking. Not Colonel Larabee,” Josiah pointed out. “In the
field, Chris doesn’t exist.” Josiah closed the door of the
conference room. Chris stared at the door
for some time. Vin waited. “This is
really worrying you?” “No. Not
worrying. Just… I’m just very conscious of it at the
moment.” His gaze left Vin and lowered to the small slip of paper
in an evidence bag. “Assassinate No. 1 at Bravo – 6th.” Vin decided to let the
other matter drop for now. “I agree with Ezra. A
professional doesn’t keep that on him, so either it was planted on him
to be found by the brother of the President’s personal bodyguard or…” “Or it was just given to
him.” Vin’s chin bobbed.
“Either by the group he was buying weapons from or…” “Or someone on that ATF
team.” “Yeah.” The two men looked at each
other knowing the latter would make things more difficult. “Okay, you’ve been paid to
kill the president at the Bravo Games. How would you do it?” “If it’s got to be showy,
explosions and a rifle shot would be the most obvious. Anything
else means having to get too close and the President is going to be
surrounded by security. So it needs to be something that can be
carried out from a distance.” “So how close does our
assassin need to be?” |
|
Part Seven Ezra studied his
companions. None had reacted to the Colonel’s announcement apart
from J.D. and Dunne’s response had at least been predictable. So
what were his more experienced teammates thinking? All had gone
about their duties without a single comment about his promotion. I am the best man for the
job. Why should I care what they think? He frowned. He
accepted and believed the first part… not the second. He did care
what they thought. Most of all, he hoped Buck wasn’t hurt, which
was ridiculous because life was a shifting, changing entity and
everyone had to adapt. Ezra’s emotions continued
to see-saw. An hour later, when Buck
rose and headed to the kitchen, Ezra followed. Wilmington had the small
fridge open, searching for something. “You want a drink?” he
asked. “No. I… “ Ezra was at a loss for words. Never before had
he given the feelings of others a second thought when he’d replaced
them or leapfrogged over them to obtain some form of advancement.
Yet, Buck’s feelings were important to him - more than important. Buck retrieved a can of
Coke and opened it. He started to pass Ezra but paused, staring
at him. “You okay?”
Buck grinned.
“That’s what I love about you, Ez. You always hedge your
bets. This is about you being lifted to third in the chain of
command?” Ezra was startled by
Buck’s forthrightness. He didn’t know why. That was the way
Buck was. “Yes.” “Ours isn’t to reason
why. The colonel chose you.” Buck took a swig of Coke. “And you are comfortable
with that?” “Sure.” He was
matter-of- fact, but still appeared sincere. “Buck… I didn’t ask for
this. I didn’t even try to manipulate it.” He smiled
uneasily. In the past he had done a lot of manipulating to get
what he wanted, but not since he’d joined this group. He
respected them too much to manipulate them for his own gain. “The
colonel…” Buck raised his hand for
Ezra to stop. “I’ve been following Chris’ orders for more years
than I care to think about. Those orders have kept me alive. I’m
not about to start questioning him now. Neither will the others,
for exactly the same reasons.” “Your faith in Colonel
Larabee is admirable and complete, but what about your faith in my
ability to take control of this unit?” If Buck could be
forthright, so could he. Buck placed his hand on
Ezra’s shoulder. “I’d be proud to follow your orders, Ezra.
I mean that. I won’t question you in battle. That’s not the
way it works. You’re a leader. It stands out a mile.
Chris would have been stupid not to promote you to third… and Chris is
a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them. This isn’t some sort of
competition. There’s no reward. We’re one team. I know my
strengths and I can lead this unit with my hands tied behind my back,
but Chris, Vin and you lead it better. It’s a fact. Of
course, there is only one Pilot Supremo in
this squad and that’s El Buck.” Buck thrust his chest out proudly. Ezra blinked, his chest
tightening with emotion. “Quite. I… thank you, my friend.” Buck smiled, slid his arm
across Ezra’s shoulders and the pair strode back into the doghouse
together. “Ez, did you know that
after drinking one can of Coke I can…” “Spare me the vulgar
details, Buck.” “Yeah, but Ez, watch this. I can…” “BUCK!” ********* Four hours later, they
were back in the conference room, requested information at the ready. “J.D.” Chris prompted. J.D. switched on the data
projector. Bravo games – started in
1984 Purpose – to forge
alliances between the major law and security organisations. “It is organized by an
independent committee from various security agencies. Held every two
years. The idea is for different agencies to send their best men
to establish contacts with other groups. The winning team gets
$50 000 to donate to their favourite
charity.” “I imagine the competition
is fierce,” Nathan commented. J.D. grinned.
“Yep. It’s all about bragging rights. The best of the best,
type of stuff. The games run for three days. It is held at Enoggora Barracks, DC. This year there are
nine teams competing.” J.D. flashed up a second screen.
– CIA: Central
Intelligence Agency - NSA : National
Security Agency - FBI: Federal
Bureau of Investigation - Army Intelligence -
United States Marine Corp - Naval Security
Group - Air Intelligence
Agency - ESC: Elite Squad
Commandos - SWAT: Counter
Terrorist Squad “They’re the big ones,”
Josiah agreed. “The same basic format is
followed each time.” Day 1 – Morning - Arrival
and settling in. -
Official opening by President of Bravo Games organizing committee - Afternoon – Team event - Evening – Official dinner Day 2
- Four small-group events and one team event. Day 3 - Team
elimination event
- Awards and closing ceremony presided over by the President of
the United States. “The activities themselves
are selected from a hat at the opening ceremony so no one can select
specific team members to suit them. In the past there has been
abseiling, obstacle courses, suspect identification... activities
plucked from all fields of military and intelligence.” J.D.
glanced at Ezra. “Even parachuting.” The others grinned. Ezra made an exasperated
sound in the back of his throat. “I would like to point out my aversion
for voluntarily propelling myself from a moving vehicle several
thousand feet above the safety of terra firma is based on sound
principles of self-preservation. Having this sensible caution
ridiculed by you leaves me to question your sanity.” He couldn’t
maintain the poker face and smirked at the end. “Is he sayin’ we’re crazy?” Buck whispered to Josiah. “Yep.” “I take offence at that,”
Buck declared indignantly, slamming his fist into the table. “The
seven of us are the sanest people I know. So, Josiah, no signs
from any crows lately?” Everyone laughed. “J.D., how many in each
team?” Chris asked, bringing the meeting back on track. “12 to15.” Chris and Vin exchanged a
glance. “Tell me you aren’t
thinking we should enter,” Ezra murmured. “Buck,” Chris prompted. “ATF Team Nine has been
together five years. The two agents who found the note look
clean. Exemplary records. No reason to suspect them of
anything. The same can’t be said of one of their teammates.” Buck
slid a photo into the centre of the table. “Agent Troy Hogan,
twenty-eight. Two months ago he was accused of jumping the gun
resulting in the death of a suspect. Turns
out the suspect was an undercover Internal Affairs agent who was
investigating some irregularities in a number of ATF teams. Hogan
was given a slap on the wrist, IA cleared everyone being investigated
and that was that.” Chris nodded thoughtfully.
“So Hogan could be our mole. Perhaps we should have a ‘chat’ with
him.” Buck shook his head.
“A bit late for that. Hogan was killed in a car accident this
morning.” “This morning,” Chris
growled. “They’re covering their
tracks,” Ezra murmured. Chris frowned and shifted
his gaze to Nathan. “Still no identity on the
dead assassin, Sir,” Jackson stated. “However, I’ve been able to trace
his movements on the morning of the bust. He caught a taxi to the
factory. Was picked up from a coffee shop in central DC.
Manager there said he had come in each day for a week. Met a man
on Tuesday and they talked for about twenty minutes. I was able
to get a picture off the security footage and I’m running it through
the FBI data base now to see if we can get a match for his mystery
associate.” “Good work. Josiah?” “We are looking at this
from the angle of a political assassination so there are three
possibilities. (a) The group ordering the hit has one of
their own carry it out. (b) The group hires a professional
assassin. (c) The group goes to less cautious group with a beef
against America, gives them the details and money and they carry out
the assassination so the original group is one step removed from it… if
that makes sense.” “And?” “My gut tells me this is a
case of a group hiring a professional. As for a list of possible
assassins… it depends on the money being offered. If it is a
relatively small amount like a few million, then it could be any one of
a hundred pros… if they choose a home grown assassin. If they go
for someone international, add at least another hundred possibles. If we’re talking about tens of
millions of dollars we’re looking at higher class assassins. It
is a much smaller group, but there is no way to tell without more
details.” Chris exhaled.
“Okay. Ezra?” “Nothing, Sir. Not a
whisper of any assassination attempt on the President or any other high
ranking official. That could mean one of two things. It is
a hoax or this is being conducted by true professionals… I believe it
to be the latter. So we are left with the question ‘who is behind
it?’ I’m afraid it is an extensive list… too extensive for us to
fully investigate before ‘d-day’ as it
were.” “So where does that leave
us, Sir?” J.D. asked. “It leaves us with a
possible assassination attempt on the President in four days
time. We know when it will happen and we know where.” “During the closing
ceremony at the Bravo Games.” “Exactly. We need to
seal the games so tight, no outsider can get in,” Chris stated. “How?” Buck asked.
“Nine teams of 12 to 15 means at least 108 people all trained to kill
and any one of which could be a traitor.” “Add to that the officials
running the activities, caterers, Presidential security for the closing
ceremony, presumably any entertainers… at
least another hundred people,” Ezra added. “And Enoggora
Barracks isn’t the most secure place in the world. Anyone could
sneak in there during the closing ceremony. It isn’t going to be
easy to protect the President if he insists on ignoring the threat,”
Nathan pointed out. “Vin and I have come up
with a plan.” Ezra glanced at
Nathan. “Why does that terrify me?” “Em7 is going to enter the
games.” “Reduced to partaking in a
childish competition fueled by egos,” Ezra grumbled. “But how, Sir?” J.D.
demanded. “The other teams will have 12 to 15 members. We
only have half that many.” “We are at least twice as
good,” Buck claimed. The others looked at him amused. “It’s only
fair they should have more people on their teams.” “We need to be on the
inside,” Vin explained. “We need to mingle with these people. The
assassin has to be among them.” Ezra picked up the photo
of Troy Hogan. “As I have just pointed out, it could be one of a
hundred other people, not to mention anyone who sneaks in to the
barracks… a venue chosen not for its security, but because it is close
to the White House and therefore not inconvenient for the President.” “I’ve cancelled the
entertainment and replaced the caterers and security squad for the
closing ceremony.” “Replaced?” Ezra asked
curiously. “Any assassin worth his salt will simply join the new
outfit.” Chris smirked.
“He may find that difficult. There are Canadian, Australian, New
Zealand and South African army units taking part in some exercises in
Iowa. I have spoken to the Australian and New Zealand
commanders. The Australian squad will take care of security and
the New Zealanders will cater. At the moment only the commander
of each squad knows. They will inform their men only once they
arrive here, so there can be no assassin among them.” “Entertainment,” Vin
continued, his blue eyes twinkling, “will be Buck doing the Stripper.” Buck beamed. “You can join
me, Kid. Those hips of yours were lethal. Nettie was
getting quite worked up.” Ezra rolled his
eyes. “Gentlemen, some decorum befitting a team of our standing.” “Sir,
that still doesn’t protect us from someone infiltrating the
barracks.” “The closing ceremony is
always held at Dustin Stadium. The Stadium has been in lockdown
for a week. Every day it is swept for bombs etc. When the
Australians arrive, they will do a final sweep. At the ceremony
every person will enter through metal detectors. No
weapons. Only the Australian Squad providing security will be
armed and they don’t even know they’re doing it yet. The roof of
the stadium will be closed so there can be no vantage point from
above. The air space will be protected by a squad of flyboys from
Texas… and they haven’t been informed yet either. Hence, the only
way an assassin will get an opportunity is if he is among the
contestants. I’m interested in your comments.” “Sounds like you’ve
covered every contingency,” Ezra remarked in admiration. “How
many people are privy to this information?” “Apart from us, one
Australian colonel and one New Zealand colonel.” “The President?” “No. We don’t know
how high up the traitor is. It could be any of his advisors or a
member of his security staff. The President will be given his
instructions on the day.” Chris glanced at the clock. “It’s
late. We’ll call it a night. Take tomorrow morning
off. Meet back here after lunch tomorrow and we’ll finalize our
plan and get things ready.” ********** “Colonel Larabee,” Doctor Larkim welcomed, offering his hand. Chris
accepted it and took a seat on the other side of the doctor’s large
desk. “How’s Liam?” Larkim frowned. “He is
oscillating between being lost and almost childlike, and showing
psychotic, obsessive behavior. There is a new drug being trialed
in Sweden. I think Liam may be a perfect candidate to try it.” Chris rubbed his
chin. “And you think it will…fix… him?” Doctor Larkim smiled gently. “Your brother has a
deep psychosis. His obsession with you is not something that will be
solved by drugs alone. We must help him find himself… rather than
trying to transform himself into you.” “Is he still… I
mean…” It was so ridiculous he couldn’t say it. Larkim seemed to recognize the
difficulty. “Is he still a danger to you and Vin Tanner?
Yes.” Chris shook his head
slowly. “There are moments when he
doesn’t remember what he did. At other times, he does remember
and justifies his actions as protecting your legacy.” “My legacy? What the
hell does that mean?” “Em7. You built it
up and he believes you’ve worked long enough and deserve to
retire. To protect what you’ve built he believes only a Larabee
should take over. Specifically, him.” Chris rose to his feet and
walked to the window overlooking the gardens. Josiah had told him
much the same thing. “Why the hatred of Vin?” Doctor Larkim sat back. “That’s complex and I’m
not sure I’ve got to the bottom of all facets of it yet.
Certainly he is jealous.” Chris cursed. “You and this Vin Tanner
are good friends and Liam feels Vin is replacing him.” Chris faced the
doctor. “But he isn’t.” The doctor sighed.
“Reality is not a place Liam resides at the moment. He believes as long
as Vin remains a member of Em7, you won’t retire. Liam
believes even if you do voluntarily retire, Vin wouldn’t accept him as
the rightful leader, while the other men in the squad would.” Chris snorted in
frustration. It was all so absurd. It made no sense. “For Liam to achieve his
objective -- you retiring and he taking over your legacy -- Vin must be
removed. Liam sees Vin as the stumbling block. I also agree with
your Dr. Sanchez. Liam believes removing Vin would ‘kill’ Colonel
Larabee but not hurt you, his brother. He sees Colonel
Larabee and Chris as two interconnected but distinct
entities. His problem is his need to kill Colonel Larabee
to take over Em7 without killing you.” “His way of achieving that
is killing Vin. Vin’s death would leave me unable to lead my
team, but I’d still be alive.” It was exactly what Josiah had
told him. “Liam can then step into
your shoes… at least, that is how he sees it when he remembers what
happened. Most of the time, he remembers little.” “Do you believe that’s
true or is it an act?” Doctor Larkim looked surprised but he pursed his lips
thoughtfully. “If it’s an act, it’s a good one.” ** Doctor Larkim led Chris to the secure section of the
facility. While it was behind fences and locked doors, it was
pleasant and more like a retreat than a hospital for dangerous
patients. Donnivan Psychiatric Hospital
was the best, but it cost money… money Chris didn’t have, but Ezra had
taken care of that detail. As Chris and Larkim entered a large, open common room, Chris
spotted Liam playing video games with another young man. Doctor Larkim excused himself and Chris continued on
toward his brother. “Chris!” Liam cried,
leaping up and wrapping his arms around Chris. “How are you?” “Good. Real
good.” Liam released Chris and turned to his friend. “Got
to go, Adrian.” Chris nodded politely to the young man whose
attention hadn’t left the screen, and followed Liam out onto the
patio. “Take a seat. So how are things in the outside
world?” Chris sank into one of the
chairs. “Not bad.” “Any new missions?” “Yeah. We’re leaving
on one tomorrow.” Liam frowned.
“Dangerous?” “No, not really.” Liam looked over the
immaculate lawns. “When are you getting me out of here?” “That’s up to the doctors.” Liam sighed. “I hate
it here. They think I’m crazy.” Chris shook his
head. “No, they know you’ve had a breakdown. I had one
after I lost Sarah and Adam, and again when I got home from the
war. There’s no need to be embarrassed. You just need to be
patient and give it time.” Liam turned and stared at
Chris, his large green eyes wide with fear. “Do you think I’m
crazy?” “No,” Chris
whispered. Relief blanketed Liam’s face. “But I admit I
don’t understand why you did what you did.” “To help you.”
Liam’s gaze became intense… wild. The transformation was
instantaneous. “Chris, you’re tired. I can see it. You’ve
done enough for this country. It’s time you took a well earned
break.” Chris sat forward.
“But, Liam, I don’t want to retire. I enjoy my work.” Liam stared back at him
with a look of bewilderment. “But…” “Liam, you have to stop
thinking about me and start thinking about you. What do you
want to do?” Innocent eyes shone at
Chris… the change back just as swift… and in a soft childlike voice,
Liam responded, “I want to work in Em7.” Chris’ face twisted with
pain and frustration, “But kid, you aren’t qualified to be a member of
Em7. It requires military training.” “I can do that!” Liam
growled, rising to his feet. “Calm down. No one
is saying you can’t, but it takes time. Three years of officer
training. Then experience in a squad for maybe five years.” “What about the
others? Did they do that sort of training?” Liam demanded,
stepping off the patio and walking away. Chris followed him.
“Yes. Josiah, Buck, Nathan and Vin served in Katinda
and other wars. Ezra worked for a number of years for the CIA and
then SeCReTS. J.D. went to
university, worked for the CIA and then did some basic military
training. It takes time and then you have to be the best at what
you do.” Liam spun abruptly and
thrust a finger at Chris. “But I will be, Chris. I’m a
Larabee.” Chris blinked.
“Liam, this isn’t about a name. It’s about how you act. A
position has to be earned. It isn’t passed down like a title.” “So… so you don’t want me
to take over from you?” Liam asked, his face shadowing with horror. Chris placed his hands on
his brother’s shoulders. “I don’t want anyone taking over from
me. I intend working in Em7 for a lot of years. You need to
look at something for you. You used to like working with
cars. You enjoy motorcycles. We could try and get you an
apprenticeship with a mechanic.” Liam’s shoulder’s
slumped and he turned away from Chris. They set off walking back
toward the patio in silence. Chris swallowed. A
chasm had opened between them again. The only time it closed was
when Liam retreated into the past and wanted Chris to act as ‘big’
brother. “Liam, I’m going to be out
of touch for about four days. I’ll visit as soon as the mission’s
over.” “Chris…” Liam whispered,
dropping his gaze to stare at the ground. “I’m scared.”
“Of the mess in my
head. Doctor Larkim said I tried to
kill someone. Was it Vin?” “Yes.” It was only
part of the truth but he couldn’t bring himself to tell his brother
more. “I don’t hate Vin, you
know. I just… Chris, I don’t remember.” Tears began
to stream down his face. “I wish… God, I wish we could go back to
before you left home.” Liam collapsed into Chris’
arms and began to sob. Chris exhaled, tightening the protective
embrace. “None of us can go back, Liam. The key is to move
forward.” |
|
Part Eight Ezra assisted Nettie into
her coat. “I am very much in your debt, Ma’am.” “She’s resting
comfortably. You have a mission you say?” Ezra nodded. It was
something of a quandary. He didn’t want his mother left on her own at
the moment -- at least not until he had a chance to get to the bottom
of everything. Nettie took the keys to
her truck from her bag. “I will stay with her while you’re away.
We get along quite well and have already planned a baking day tomorrow.” Ezra blinked. “A
what?” “A baking day. I
have some Christmas recipes I want to share. She wants to bake
something special for you.” A lump swelled in Ezra’s
throat. “Mother wants to...Nettie, I...” Nettie smiled.
“Hush. You look after the rest of the boys and I’ll take care of
Maude. Deal?” Ezra composed himself and
then smirked. “I’m not sure which of us has the more difficult
task.” Nettie winked. “She
didn’t tell me what was troubling her and I didn’t ask. However,
she did say it was a relief to speak about it with Josiah. Perhaps...” Ezra nodded. “I will ask
Josiah to speak with her again.” ********* The moment Nathan got home
he settled into his favourite chair and
opened his book. He wanted to relax and reading always assisted
him to do so.
Just as he was getting
engrossed, his cell phone rang. The caller ID identified Josiah. “Hey, Josiah.” “I’m going out for a few
hours. Just wanted to let someone know.” “Sure. Where?” “The Regent Hotel... and
before you ask, it is because I had J.D. track down where Emma is
staying.” Nathan grinned.
“Good luck and don’t stay out all night.” He shook his head with
amusement and returned to reading about gall bladders. ********* Josiah straightened his
tie, his heart pounding out the mix of emotions he felt. He’d
wanted to wait until he got his new suit but impulse had sent him
driving here before he knew it. Josiah believed all actions had a
purpose and if impulse was insisting he see Emma now, there was a
reason. As he stepped from his
car, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror of a vehicle
parked nearby. Josiah grimaced. He was wearing the suit he’d worn
to his father’s funeral more than 15 years earlier. Unfortunately
daily work outs since had caused his chest to expand considerably and
the buttons on the jacket were pulling with grim determination to hold
the moth eaten material around him. “It’s what’s on the inside
that counts, as Emma always said,” Josiah decided happily. As he
entered the lobby of the lavish Regent’s Hotel, he spotted a group of
photographers and journalists – no doubt present to interview
Emma. Proudly Josiah strode across to the pack. “Gentlemen.” A few glanced at him and
exchanged amused smiles. Subconsciously, Josiah tugged at his
jacket in an attempt to ease the burden on the buttons. “You are here
to interview Emma Dubonnet?” “No. We’re here to
catch a photo of Ed Harry… golf star,” a man chewing gum informed him. “Emma Dubonnet?”
One of the reporters pursed his lips thoughtfully. “You mean the
star of that old theatre production, “Getting Gertie’s
Garter”? Do you know something about her?” Josiah nodded. “Met
her fifteen years ago.” The reporter
flicked open a notebook. “Was she calling herself Dubonnet then?” Josiah frowned. The reporter
elaborated. “It’s not her real name. I did a story on her a
few years back. Turns out Dubonnet is a stage name. There’s
no record of a birth certificate. Whoever Emma is, she’s keeping
it to herself.” Josiah’s frown deepened.
He turned and started for the elevator mulling over what he’d been
told. Emma hadn’t mentioned any of this to him. “She’s not in,” the
reporter called. “Was collected earlier by Guy Royal, the
property mogul.” Josiah turned back to the
man. “Did she have a chaperone?” This brought laughter from
the group of reporters. Josiah’s eyes narrowed
dangerously. “What’s so funny?” “That a woman like Emma Dubbonet would have a chaperone.” Josiah set his shoulders
and charged. ******** Vin stared at the phone in
the darkness of his flat. The light from the television flickered
around the room. With a determined grunt,
he snatched the receiver, took out the number he had written on the
small notebook in his pocket and dialed. He waited… and waited… and… “Yes?” “Aunt Molly?” “Fudge. So, did you
meet the Tanners?” “Yeah, but we had to rush
back to DC. A mission.” “And what did you think of
them?” “I… I don’t know. It
was strange.” Bizarre in many ways. “They are a strange lot,”
Molly laughed. “Did they show you any photos of your father?” “Yeah.” That had
been bizarre too. He had felt like he was looking at
himself. His father’s expression had been so intense, like he had
something weighing on his mind. “I look like him.” “That you do, boy, but you
have your mother’s personality. Definitely Em’s
personality. So, can I expect you back for brownies on Thursday?” “Probably not this
week. The mission will run a few days, but I’ll visit as soon as
it’s over. I also want to speak to Richard. He’s rung and
left a number of messages for me.” There was silence for a
few seconds. “I want you to promise you
won’t go and see that man alone. You make sure you take that
Chris fella with you…and a rifle.
Richard Tanner is a dangerous man.” “What makes you say that,
Aunt Molly?” “The Tanners are powerful
people and they’ve got to where they are doing whatever it takes. I’ve
heard those who stand in Richard’s way in business end up in
hospital. You are now the heir to the Tanner fortune, boy, which
means you are now standing in Richard’s way of inheriting that
ranch. I don’t think he’ll stand back and let that happen. He’s
dangerous. Promise me. Promise me you won’t see him alone.” “I promise… but I can look
after myself. I’m not a little boy any more.” “You’re still my
little boy.” Vin smiled as he replaced
the receiver, the warmth of Molly’s words washing over him.
Unconditional love was something he’d missed when growing up. As he stared at the
television, the smile dissolved. Richard Tanner is a
dangerous man. Dangerous enough to have killed his father?
To want to kill him to inherit the Tanner ranch? Was that why his
mother had hidden his heritage from everyone? To protect
him? Abruptly an image of his
mother entered his mind. It was so clear… like she was looking
right at him. Early twenties. Jeans and t-shirt. No
make-up. Bright eyes reflecting love. Other images invaded Vin’s
consciousness. His house… Toby… the backyard… the big tree… and
then a running stream of images assaulted him. For several
moments he was drowning. However, his trek across Havico Island plagued by seizures…knowing that
if he succumbed to them Chris would die… had taught him how to stop the
onslaught and gain control so he could look at the memory and block it
if needed. Vin shut his eyes and
focused. Gradually the swirling stopped and all the pieces
settled into place, the memory opening up to him. He peered down at the
world from his perch in the tree. Toby ran in circles around the
bottom, barking with excitement. “Vin, be careful,” his
mother called, pegging some washing on the line. “I’m okay, Mama. I
can see Aunt Molly. She’s baking. Aunt Molly! Aunt Molly!” Molly leaned out the
window. “What are you doing up there, you scallywag?” “I can go higher. Watch
me, Aunt Molly!” He reached for the branch above him and hauled himself
up. His Ma paused to watch him
too. He waved, tilted to the right and started to slip. “Vin!” two female voices
roared. Nimbly he grabbed the
branch and steadied himself. “I’s fine, Ma. It’s okay, Aunt Molly.” His mother appeared below,
hands on hips. “Down please.” “But Ma…” “Now.” With a pout, he dropped
from branch to branch and then shimmied down the trunk, complaining,
“I’m a big boy now, Ma.” He felt his mother’s hands
grip his shoulders and ease him to the ground. She spun him around and
began dusting him off. “Mama,” he complained, rolling his eyes
and tugging away. She smiled and kissed the
top of his head. “Alright. Off you go.” “Come on, Toby,” he
shouted, darting toward the sandpit. He turned back, catching a
glimpse of his mother returning to the washing. She waved as he
leaped into the sand, Toby landing on top of him. The memory faded… the
seizure passing. Vin exhaled slowly.
A feeling of deep weariness washed over him as it always did following
a seizure. Every day since his Uncontrollable Individual Moment Recall condition had started he’d cursed it, but it
had just enabled him to see his mother…see her so clearly he’d felt
like they’d just been together. He’d almost felt her lips touch
the top of his head and he’d clearly heard her voice. It wasn’t
soft, but firm and strong with a thick Texan accent. Her eyes
were hazel, not blue like his. Her skin was tanned and love had
shone from her face… a love so pure and strong, he could still feel it. For as long as he could
recall he’d been trying to remember his mother, but time had almost
wiped her away. Guilt had lived in his heart for years as a
result, but Josiah had assured him it was normal to forget. The
reason others remembered so many incidents from their early years was
because family talked about them and so the events were relived
regularly. There had been no one to remind Vin and so, the
memories had faded. Vin shut his eyes trying
to recapture the memory, but ‘the door’ had closed. The door… an
analogy Josiah had used to explain his UIMR seizures. Vin had no
control of what he remembered or when, but when a memory was
recalled it was like a door opening in front of his eyes. Through
that door he could see the memory running like a video, often on fast
forward. As long as he stayed on this side of the
metaphoric door and just ‘watched’ the memory, there was no danger of
anything apart from fatigue. In a major seizure though, he was
swallowed by the memory… caught up in it… like walking through the door
into the memory. If the door closed… if he couldn’t snap back to
reality… there was a danger of being permanently lost in the memory and
ending up a vegetable in a mental institution. It had almost happened
when Prosecutor Alex Robbins had forced him to recall the incidents at
Kim Mai. The only reason he hadn’t ended up in a padded room was
because Chris had anchored him in reality. It was an experience
he didn’t wish to repeat. In the past few weeks, he’d gained
almost full control of the seizures, enabling him to block… close the
door on… at least 90%. The other ten percent, involving violent
incidents of the war, still left him totally defenseless and dependant
on his teammates. He couldn’t ‘close the door’ on them because he
was draw to the horror of what he was ‘seeing’. It was a
situation that played on his mind, but he had complete faith in his
friends. If a violent seizure was triggered, Chris and the others
would not allow him to be lost to it. Thankfully severe seizures
required a visual or auditory trigger and those had proved rare. At first, his UIMR had
only acted on memories of the war, but clearly it affected all of his
memories. The first time he had experienced a seizure related to
a non-war memory Josiah had been excited. ‘We use only a small
percentage of our brain. Is it so difficult to believe that our
brains actually store every experience in complete detail and that our
inability to remember every moment of our existence is more a matter of
not knowing how, rather than not being capable of doing so? Perhaps
rather than causing a new problem, UIMR is actually correcting an old
one, potentially allowing you to utilize a greater percentage of your
brain as God intended. Your condition could be the key to
understanding brain function.” Quite frankly, Vin didn’t
care about any of that, but if Josiah was right, then Vin couldn’t help
believing he should be able to recall his Ma… recall every moment he’d
spent with her. Rising, Vin went to the
mantelpiece where he’d placed the photo of his mother he’d been given
recently. She looked different … younger
than the woman in his memory. This had been taken before he was
born, he realized. In his memory, her hair had been longer and
was tied back. His brow furrowed as images rose up in front of
his eyes again.
He walked into his
mother’s bedroom. She was seated on the bed, tying her hair
back. “Come, here. I need to comb your hair, Vin.” “Can I come with you?” he
asked, bounding across to her and climbing onto her lap. The
smell of roses tickled his nostrils. His mother always smelled of
roses. It was her favorite perfume. “I’m at the surgery all
day. You’re going to Aunt Molly’s.” “But I want to be with
you.” He ducked under the comb and turned to look up at her. “And I want to be with
you, but not today, baby.” She leaned forward, kissed him and
then turned his head forward and began gently pulling the comb through
his tangled locks. “As soon as I get home, we’ll go to the Tanner
ranch to ride the horses.” “Robert said I can have
one,” he stated, happily, tugging away from the comb. “He said
Misty’s all mine. In the mirror he saw his
mother’s face flicker with sadness. “Robert is always very good
to us.” The memory drifted out of
focus and before Vin knew it, it was gone. Again, the
recollection had been vivid, like he was watching a video of the
incident. Vin blinked, slowly
orienting himself to his flat. He was still standing staring at
the photo of his mother. He replaced it, his mind churning,
fatigue weighing him down. Each seizure was mentally, emotionally
and also physically exhausting. Wearily, Vin moved back to
the couch and sank into it, shutting his eyes. His mind
whirled. So he and his mother had been regular visitors at the
Tanner ranch with permission to ride the horses. Why? Had
the Tanners opened their ranch to everyone… or just his mother?
His grandfather had said he’d liked Emma, and Uncle Ryan had said she
was the vet for the ranch so maybe it wasn’t so unusual. Then
again… *********** Ezra glanced at the clock
and frowned as he answered the phone. Who would be calling so
late? “Standish.” “Ezra… Chris.” Ezra smiled. Josiah
had checked on him a few hours earlier. No doubt if the others
knew of his recent news he’d have been harassed by them also. “To
use Vin’s favourite phrase, I’m fine,
Chris,” he responded to the unspoken question. “You know what fine means, don’t you?” Ezra’s right eyebrow
rose. "Yes. Fine - good condition or quality... thin...
sharp... keen...delicate..." "No.
F...I...N...E. F&%# up. Insecure. Neurotic.
Emotional." “Oh…” Ezra
considered the words. “In that case I’m definitely fine.” Chris chuckled.
Silence fell between them. “I can’t call the mission off, but if
you need leave…” “No, Sir. I’m
okay. Mother and I spoke this evening. I actually feel I
understand her better than I ever have. As for my paternity, that
is something I intend dealing with the moment the mission is over.” “Just let me know what you
need.” “Thanks, Chris. How’s
Vin? He didn’t say anything about his trip to his birthplace.” “He’s ahhh…
fine “ Ezra grinned.
“Naturally.” “I’ve got Josiah keeping
an eye on you both. The Preacher said if he sees any low flying crows
he’ll let me know. Good night.” Ezra laughed. “Good
night.” He replaced the receiver and despite being ‘fine’ he felt
secure in the knowledge the rock his life was now built on was firm. ********* When Buck had approached
his apartment complex about six hours earlier he’d spotted the crowd,
but hadn’t realized he was the cause. Dozens of female fans of the
Sexiest Man competition had read his address in a magazine that day...
definitely a breech of privacy, though Buck wasn’t particularly upset.
Left with no option, he’d been forced to entertain the gaggle
of fine... and not so fine... ladies. An impromptu party had ensued on
the footpath - with music, dancing and pizza. No doubt his neighbours would complain. It wouldn’t be
the first time. While it went against the
grain to send everyone home before midnight, compromising the safety of
his unit because he was tired wasn’t an option. “Ladies. I’m
sorry. I have to head up to bed... alone.” There were moans
of disappointment much to Buck’s satisfaction. Most packed up and
went home after he promised to host another party in a few days.
Others were more persistent. Buck slammed the door in
the faces of a group of rabid females who’d literally chased him down
the hall. He leant back against the door as they pounded on the
other side. “Ladies, please!” he
cried, stunned. They wouldn’t take ‘no’
for an answer and they weren’t after his autograph! |
|
Part Nine Vin moved restlessly in
his sleep, his memories returning in the form of dreams. However,
each dream was a seizure and unfortunately, when he slept,
it was much more difficult to prevent them. Of course the real
issue was he didn’t want to block these particular memories. He
wanted to remember his mother... was desperate to remember her.
“But why?” He stared
up at his Ma. She ran her fingers
through his hair and collected the book from the bedside table.
“I hope it will only be for a week. You’ll be okay. You’re
going to stay with Aunt Molly, and Uncle Ryan will pop in every day.” He pushed the covers down
and his mother immediately pulled them over him. “Why can’t I come with
you?” His mother smiled.
“Because hospitals aren’t very interesting places for little boys.” He just didn’t understand.
“But you’ll be there.” His mother’s eyes clouded
with tears but she smiled, running her fingers through his hair
again. “You’ll be able to visit me. Aunt Molly has agreed
to catch the bus up to the hospital every day.” He blinked up at her as
she opened the book. “Mama, only sick people go to hospital.” His mother’s expression
flickered for a moment but remained calm. “Mama is going to be fine,
sweetheart. I have to be. I have to look after you.”
She helped Vin sit up and then placed the book on his lap. “Let’s
read. ‘Harry the Dirty Dog’.” Vin rolled over, the
movement freeing him of the seizure. He opened his eyes and stared up
at the ceiling in the darkness. His body was heavy and his mind
clouded. Each seizure had built on the previous one, the effect
sneaking up on him. He tried to sit up, but simply didn’t have
the energy. His panted breathing echoed in the silent room. His
eyelids slid closed and yet another memory opened up in his mind.
With great effort, he ‘closed the door’. He’d had too many
seizures in a short period of time. It was time to break the
cycle. A shower would help. Opening his eyes, he again tried to sit up,
but couldn’t. He could barely lift his head off the pillow. “I’m in trouble,” he said
aloud. Vin was startled by how breathy and weak his voice
sounded. He placed his right hand on his watch communicator
and felt for the button connecting him to Chris. With great
difficulty he lifted his surprisingly heavy arm to his mouth to speak
into his watch microphone. “Vin?” “Chrisss...I’m...
“ “Where are you?!” Panic
reverberated in each syllable. “Home...Don’t have a ...
cow on me. I’m okay. Just...I’ve had a few... seizures
tonight.” He could tell Chris was on the move. “A few! How many is
a few?” Vin thought about
it. Three before he’d gone to bed and.... maybe five since. “Vin? Talk to me...
come on, Tanner.” “About eight...seizures,
but... I’m... I think I’m okay. Just... drained. Really...
drained. They were good memories... of my Ma. I’m...just...
really tired.” His consciousness began to drift. “Guess I
... can’t afford to... have any more... but I’m finding... it hard to
stay... awake.” “Keep talking to me,
Vin. I’ve texted Nathan and he’s on his way.” Vin grimaced. He
hated being a burden. “I’m okay.... Chris. I just... I
thought I ...better let someone know.” “Which
shows what little brains you’ve got are still working.” Vin smirked, his heavy
eyelids drooping. “Chris, I’m fine.” “F&%#
up, insecure, neurotic and emotional. Yeah, tell me something I don’t
know. Keep talking to me, Vin.” Chris wasn’t listening to
Vin’s assurances but then, from the moment Vin had pushed the speed
dial button on his watch, he’d known Chris would come. “Talk to me about what
you’ve remembered.” “Chris...” “It’s an order.” Vin sighed. “I can
barely... keep my eyes open.” “Which
is why you need to keep talking to me. I don’t want you
going to sleep and having another seizure... Vin?...Lieutenant,
I’m ordering you to stay awake. Tell me what you’ve been
remembering.” Chris’ voice, while calm,
had a raw edge. “Yes, Sir. I’ve
been... remembering things I did when I was a kid. Time I...
spent with Ma. UIMR is a pain in the ass, but... Chris, I feel
like I’ve just seen her.... I don’t know what she meant when she
said, “Boy, you’re a Tanner.’ but I have to know if she was telling me
to live up to the family name... or just letting me know I’m a
Tanner... or warning me... you’re a Tanner so be careful. I need
to know.” He continued to talk until
he heard the squeal of tires. Either Chris or Nathan had
arrived... probably Nathan who lived closer. With great effort,
Vin pushed himself up onto his elbows, but it was obvious he wasn’t
going to be able to stand yet. Eight seizures in only a few hours had
left him weaker than a new born calf. “Nathan,
is that...” “I’m here,” Chris
shouted. Clearly he'd broken the sound barrier again. Moments
later, Larabee had disarmed the alarm and used his key to enter. Vin collapsed back onto
the bed and waited. Abruptly light blazed in the room and Vin
automatically lifted his hand to shield his eyes. “Hey,” Chris soothed
gently, removing the hand and peering down at him, his expression a mix
of worry and anger. “Hell, you’re white as a sheet.” Vin
watched Chris lift his phone to his ear. “Nathan, where the hell
are you? You should have been here by now... what are you doing out in
the middle of the night? How far away are you?...
Good. He’s grey... and weak. Really weak.... yeah, eight,
apparently.... I don’t know. I intend finding out as soon as he’s
strong enough to beat the crap out of.” Chris lowered the phone
and disappeared for a few moments, returning with a glass of water. “Thanks,” Vin murmured as
Chris lifted his shoulders. After a few sips, Vin nodded and Chris
eased him back. “I’m feeling better... stronger.” Chris raised his left
eyebrow. “Unfortunately, you look like crap. Eight seizures? What
happened? Why so many? Josiah assured me you can now stop them
when you want to?” “So you think I’m strong
enough to have the crap beaten out of me now?” Vin chuckled. “Don’t push me,
Tanner. When I heard your voice on the phone...” Chris sat down
on the edge of the bed. At that moment, Vin had a sense of his
friend’s terror. “Sorry.” Chris nodded. “So
can you or can’t you block the seizures?” “I can block most but it’s
more difficult when I’m asleep. I guess I didn’t want to block
these. I don’t want to remember the war... I do want to remember
my Ma. And... I could hear her. I can now walk in and out
of the memory if I want to.” Chris’ face twisted with
confusion. “Ummm.
I can’t walk in and out of the door when I want now... actually feel
like I’m there.” “What? No.”
The tone changed from Chris to Colonel. “You’re not to do that any
more. You hear me?” “Chris...” “This isn’t
negotiable. I’m not going to let you risk...” “I don’t do it with
memories of the war. Just with... with things I want to remember.” “Vin, I was there when we
almost lost you to Kim Mai and....” Vin could read fear in his
friend’s expression. “Josiah said it was the horror of Kim Mai
that held me there... kinda like not being
able to look away. Remembering Ma is... is great. Look,
if you were given the opportunity to revisit time spent with
Sarah and Adam... memories so clear you feel like you’re with them...
you’d do it.” Chris frowned, rubbing his
hand across his mouth. He rose off the bed, staring down at
Vin. “I... yeah. I guess I would, but Vin... I don’t want
you doing it again until I’ve had a chance to speak to Josiah about
this. Deal?” Vin nodded. “Deal.” ********* Chris studied Josiah, who
had arrived with Nathan. While the doctor was in the bedroom
examining Vin, the colonel had shared much of what Vin had told him
with Josiah. The qualified psychologist sat in silence sipping
his coffee, his brow deeply furrowed. “Interesting. So he
can actually ‘walk in and out’ to use his words. Interesting.” “Stuff interesting,” Chris
snapped. “Is it dangerous?” “It’s not something I
recommend he continues to do.” Chris cursed. Josiah sat forward.
“Chris, he’s dealing with a lot more than just the war now. His
UIMR is having an interesting side-effect. For the first time in
years, Vin is looking behind him to see where he’s been. All his life,
he’s only looked forward because the past held nothing for him.
Those final words his mother said to him are all he has of her, all
he’s ever kept of his past and as a result it shaped the person he
is. He’s built his self-image...constructed his entire life on
the ideals he believed were in those words. To discover that those
words may not mean what he thought... His world has been turned
upside down. Let’s face it, there is a huge difference between
his mother telling him he’s a Tanner so he can live up to the family
name, and his mother giving him a clue so he can claim the Tanner
ranch... or worse still, his mother warning him he’s a Tanner for his
safety.” Josiah paused and sipped
his coffee. “Vin’s self-concept, his understanding of who he is,
which has always been so firm and clear in his mind, has been badly
shaken...stripped away from him completely, leaving him totally exposed
and asking who the hell he is. Vin’s one saving grace through all the
adversity he’s had in his life was that he was confident with who he
was... comfortable in his own skin. Now, that confidence has been
rocked. He has spent his life living up to being a Tanner, even
if he wasn’t sure who the Tanners were: he believed them to be worthy,
for his mother had wanted him to live up to the name. But what if
she hadn’t meant that? What if she was telling him not to forget
he was a Tanner because he was the heir to the property – heir to a
huge amount of money. Money has never
meant anything to Vin. Or maybe his mother told him not to forget
so he had some chance of avoiding the same fate that befell his father
at the hands of his family. Is it not any wonder Vin more than wants
to understand his mother so he can work out what she was trying to tell
him, but needs to. In his
mind, he may not be the person he’s always thought he was.
Imagine how disconcerting that is for a man like Vin.” Chris’ frowned deepened. “There is another side to
this,” Josiah mused, sitting back. “Vin has always believed his
mother to be one thing and perhaps she wasn’t. He held on to a
child’s view of her... the perfect person. He believed her to the
noblest of people whose final words were ones of aspiration and
inspiration for her son. But he’s learning she was human.
What if her words were said to ensure Vin merely got what was
rightfully his. That nobility fades just a little.” “But does it matter?” “Ahh,
Chris.” Josiah rose and wandered into the small kitchen. “Just
for argument’s sake, let us say today you find out Adam wasn’t your
son. How does that change your memories... your perception of
your wife? It means Sarah lied to you. She wasn’t the
person you thought her to be. That’s what Vin is facing
now. Not only is his perception of his mother being challenged,
but he’s questioning his perception of himself. He doesn’t simply
want to find out who his mother was and what she meant
with those final words, he needs to. And as a psychologist, I’m
telling you, it’s essential he does.” Chris shook his head
slowly. Before he could comment, Nathan exited Vin’s room. “He’s okay,” the doctor
assured, closing the door behind him. “He’s asleep, but when he called
you, he knew he was in trouble.” Chris cursed in
frustration. “The best lessons are the
ones experienced. He isn’t going to allow so many seizures in one
day again,” Nathan assured. “He had an opportunity to
find out about his mother. He took it,” Josiah explained. “I know. I don’t
blame him,” Chris admitted. “We leave for the Bravo Games in a
day. Will he be up to it?” “Yeah. Six hours
sleep and he’ll be back on his feet. Perhaps still a little weak,
but it’s not as if we’re heading into a battle. If we were, I’d
rule him out, but for what we have ahead, he’ll be okay.” ********** J.D.’s face twitched as
sleep left him. The ringing phone got louder as he blinked in the
darkness. Rolling onto his side, he read the bedside clock – 2:38
am. The fog of sleep cleared
and he grabbed the phone. “Dunne.” “J.D.?” J.D.’s breath caught in
his throat. “Helen?” “I’m sorry to call you at
this time of night.” J.D. drew himself up and leaned against the
wall. If his stepmother was ringing in the middle of the night it
meant only one thing. “Your father went on a rampage earlier this
evening while Penny and I were out. This time he’s smashed
everything.” “Are you okay?” “Yes, love. I just
wanted to warn you in case he comes there, though by this time he’s
probably unconscious somewhere sleeping it off.” “I thought the AA meetings
were working.” “He started drinking again
about a week ago.” J.D. shook his head.
“Do you need a hand cleaning up? I have tomorrow morning off.” “I... thanks, love.
He’s pushed over cupboards. Pulled food out of the fridge and...” her
voice broke... “He even smashed Penny’s figurine collection.” J.D. shut his eyes in
frustration. “I’m sorry.” “It isn’t your
fault. This time, I’m telling him to leave for good.” She
said it every time... and every time she took him back after only a few
weeks. “I’ll be at your place
about 7:00. Is that okay?” “Yes. I... thanks,
love.” J.D. put the phone down
and leaned back against the wall. Why? Why did his father
do this?! ********** John Tanner peered out the
window of his office watching his cowhands going about their business
in the early morning. He missed the old days when he used to break the
horses with Eric. Then the business had been smaller and while
not struggling to make ends meet, they hadn’t been rolling in cash like
now. They hadn’t been in the society pages, which for some reason
was so important these days. Life had been simpler…more personal…
fun. John sighed. He
missed Eric more with each day that passed. He knew it was wrong
for a father to have a favorite among his children but Eric had been
more than a son and business partner. He’d been his best
friend. It wasn’t that John loved Eric more than Angie, Katie,
Richard, Steph, Rudy… even Cilla and Maggie – Mary-Ellen’s girls whom he
adopted, but he and his eldest son had surpassed the father/son
relationship and been buddies. There wasn’t anything they didn’t
tell each other… which meant Eric hadn’t known about Vin. John shut his eyes. Now,
Eric’s son had appeared from nowhere. “Emma’s boy.” John
shook his head, cursing softly. It had never entered his head
Emma’s boy could have been Eric’s despite knowing of their plans to
marry. He’d met the boy once… a chance meeting in Stauntan. Emma had been very nervous. Now
John knew why… then again… why? If she’d told him her boy was
Eric’s he’d have supported the child… but she’d never given him the
chance. John had assumed Vin had been conceived after Eric’s
death. Clearly Eric’s decision to wait until after he and
Emma had married had been discarded at some stage. No doubt a night of
passion. John remembered the days when he’d enjoyed such nights. “Vin.” It was a
strange name. It had to be short for something else. John
picked up the photo of Eric from his desk. Slowly he shook his
head. “Your boy is a dead wringer for you, Eric.” What type
of man was his grandson? He looked like Eric but that didn’t mean
anything. John flicked open the
telex on his desk, located the number he wanted and dialed.
“Martin, it’s Gramps.” “Hi, Gramps. Up early I
see. I haven’t gone to bed. We’re working on a missing
child case.” John smiled at the sound
of his grandson’s voice. He loved Martin, but had never seen as
much of him as he’d have liked. “Marty, can you find out some
information on someone for me?” “Sure. Name?” “Vin Tanner.
Lieutenant Vin Tanner.” “Name rings a bell for
some reason. Tanner? He a relative?” “Yes.” “What do you want to know?” “I…” John frowned,
realizing he wasn’t sure. “What sort of man is he?” There was silence for a
few moments. “Gramps, is everything okay?” John swallowed, his
emotions rising. “Yes. Vin Tanner came to see me
yesterday. He’s your Uncle Eric’s son.” “What? Are you
sure? DNA proof?” “No need.” John ran
his finger over the face in the picture. “He’s a dead wringer for
Eric. I… can you get back to me today?” “I’ve typed his name into
my computer and it’s just spat out some information. Lieutenant Xavier
Kevin Tanner.” “Xavier!” John shut
his eyes. Xavier had been his father’s name. Eric had
promised if he had a boy, he’d be named after his grandfather.
“Go on.” “Wow. This guy’s
Em7… best of the best. He was missing in action until about four
months ago. Highly decorated soldier. That’s all it
says. I can look for more if you like.” “No need, Marty.
That’s enough. How’s your mother?” John’s chest
tightened. He missed Angie dreadfully, but she didn’t get along
with Mary-Ellen and her marriage to Victor Fitzgerald hadn’t had his
blessing. Thus, he only saw her and Martin at family events –
births, deaths and marriages. “She’s good. Are you
going to call and tell her or do you want me to do it?” “I’ll call her.
Thanks, Marty. When can I expect to see you again?” “Gramps, I’m working flat
out at the moment. I hope to have a few days off over Christmas
so I might be able to fly down.” “I look forward to
it.” John replaced the receiver and leaned back in his
chair. “Xavier Kevin Tanner.” A smile of pride spread
across the elderly man’s face. Eric must have discussed children
with Emma and Emma had honored his wishes with regard to name.
That didn’t surprise, John. Emma had been a sweetheart. ********** Em7 met at lunch to
finalize arrangements. All understood it was time to put their personal
lives on hold. If they were to save the President of the United
States from being assassinated, they needed to focus fully. |
|
Part Ten Bravo Games Ennogera Barracks DAY ONE – 8:30 am. J.D. strained under the
weight of his pack. He entered the simple building and scanned
the room, looking for the best set of bunks for his team. Knowing
his leader, he’d want somewhere close to a door… a corner so there were
only men on one side of them. Deciding on the right back
corner next to the back door of the rectangular shaped building, built
to house thirty-two men in sixteen bunks – eight along opposite walls –
J.D. slid his heavy pack from his shoulder and lowered it carefully
onto a bottom bunk. He had his laptop and satellite phone along
with sleeping bag, change of clothes, toiletries… and enough snacks
stowed for the three days.
“Hey.” A gruff voice
sounded over J.D.’s shoulder. A soldier built like Josiah walked
around to face him. J.D., who was leaning over his pack,
straightened to stare into the man’s chest. He watched as the
giant dumped his bag on the bunk above. “Sorry. My team will
be using these seven,” J.D. stated amiably. The solider glared at
him. “Little pimple, my name is Sergeant Warrick Lewis.” “That supposed to mean
something?” J.D. asked, unimpressed with the man’s attitude. Lewis’ glare
hardened. “Snotface, I’ve been coming
to the Bravo games for six years and I always sleep in this
bunk. If you want to finish today with the same number of teeth
you started with, I suggest you shift.” J.D. frowned. On one
hand, he didn’t see sense in causing a problem over
nothing. On the other, he realized this man was making a
point and he was certainly big enough to do it. “Not this year.” The soldier stepped
forward, aggressively. “Perhaps you didn’t hear me?” J.D. held his ground,
setting his shoulders and titling his head back to make eye-contact, he
growled, “I heard you and I’m telling you to find another set of bunks.” To J.D’s surprise, Lewis
backed down immediately. Dunne noticed his aggressor was looking
at some point over his shoulder. J.D. sighed and glanced
back. Sure enough, Chris was standing behind him, the infamous
Larabee glare blazing. No matter how hard he tried, J.D. couldn’t
seem to get the same response from just one look. “Colonel.” “There a problem here?”
Chris asked in a pronounced whisper dripping with acid. “I don’t know.” J.D.
looked at the soldier, ‘there a problem, Lewis?” “No,” the soldier
stuttered immediately. “Colonel Larabee?” “That’s right,” Chris
responded, dropping his pack with a
resounding thud as four members of his squad clambered into the
barracks behind him. “Em7 is competing in the
games?” Lewis murmured, eying the group with astonishment. “Yep,” Buck stated,
walking between the soldier and J.D. “I’m taking the top bunk,
J.D… unless your new ‘girlfriend’ here wants to sleep with you?” he
asked, eyeing the sergeant. “No, I… “ Lewis saluted Chris and then darted down
the middle of the room and out the door. “Hell, Chris. You’re
scaring people already. We only just arrived,” Buck chuckled. Chris grunted and tossed
his bag on a bunk. “Thought this would be a
good spot for us, Sir,” J.D. stated. Larabee nodded.
“Works fine. I think we should…” “Oh, God.” The
exclamation of pain echoed from the opposite end of the building where
Ezra stood framed in the doorway, his hand over his heart.
“Courage, Ezra. Courage,” Standish muttered, tentatively entering. Chris flicked a grin to
Vin who winked. “Come on, Ez. It’s only for three days.” “Three days too many,”
Ezra assured, joining his team. “I just passed a very pale
gentleman who was running and looking as if he’d just come face to face
with something particularly terrifying. I assume one or more of
you are responsible.” They all grunted. Ezra shook his head. “You’all are worse
then General Sherman on a Georgia plantation.” Buck frowned. “What?” Ezra placed his bag on the
ground. “Don’t take this the wrong way but you gentlemen
occasionally lack the essential skills of tact and diplomacy.” Chris and Vin exchanged a
raised eyebrow. Us? Buck stepped forward in
apparent surprise. “What are you sayin’?” Josiah sat down on the
edge of a bunk, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. “I think
he’s sayin’ we’re rude.” “Rude? No, rude
would be a definite improvement. I’m saying you scare people and
perhaps terrorizing them won’t buy you any answers this time. May I
remind you we are here to milk our colleagues of information.” Vin nodded. “What
have you got in mind?” Ezra removed a speck of
dust from his neatly ironed fatigues, his gold tooth catching the early
morning sun entering through a window to his right. “I think a
little subtly is in order.” “Subtly? Ezra,
you’re as subtle as a brick,” Nathan laughed. “Now is not the time to
debate such a thing. However, I believe we should divide and
conquer as we discussed. As we do not know who makes up the other
teams because our fellow competitors wanted to keep it a secret, may I
suggest each of us looks for people we recognize and pursue a course of
dialogue with them. If our assassin is here it is conceivable his
team will have sensed something is amiss. We are looking for
someone who is either relatively new to his group or someone his
colleagues find ‘different’, ‘strange’, ‘troubling’ or who they believe
has been acting out of character of late. The tension of such a
high profile assassination may show itself in the form of stress…
something his colleagues may have noticed. So, we need to be… how
can I put this in a way you will understand… we need to be friendly.” “Chris, that means you
can’t glare at people,” Buck translated. Chris snorted. “Get
unpacked. The opening ceremony is in an hour.” “I wonder why no one else
has chosen these barracks?” J.D. mused. All paused and looked at
him as if he had two heads. “What?” the youngest man
asked. In an exaggerated fashion,
Buck inclined his head to Chris. “He’s been glaring at
people. You think anyone would want to…” A pillow hit Buck in the
face. Josiah placed his
toothbrush on the small table beside his bunk. “And here I was
thinking Ezra’s perfume had chased them off.” “Aftershave,” Ezra
corrected. “And I’ll have you know it is very masculine and is
called…” “Fairy pee,” Buck
chuckled. “It smells like that air-freshener stuff you spray in
lavatories to cover the smell of…” “Buck!” “To cover the smell of
Buck?” Vin laughed. “Yep, I reckon that would work.” Two pillows
hit him in the face. ********* An hour later, the men of
Em7 had taken their positions for the opening ceremony. Their
plan was simple - find out the names of as many people as possible and
give them to J.D. who would then do an online background check.
Em7’s inability to do so earlier meant they were basically running
blind, but Ezra was confident that by the end of the first day, they
should have the names of everyone and that suspects would begin to pop
out. The parade ground was just
big enough to contain the 120 people. All competitors were seated
casually on the grass facing a small temporary stage where the
president of the organizing committee now stood waffling. Vin tuned him out and
scanned the faces of the men around him. Not unexpectedly, few of
the men were looking at the stage. Most were studying their
opposition and Em7 was receiving a good deal of interest which was a
little disconcerting. Vin sighed. He was
still feeling the effects of the eight seizures, but Nathan had given
him a clean bill of health, and he’d promised Chris he’d take it easy
and say something if he needed to rest. A winter’s breeze blew
through the trees around them, rustling the leaves. Vin found the
sound a comfort. While he knew being here was the only way they
could identify the assassin, he couldn’t help thinking the job was
insurmountable. The assassin could be anyone and while Chris’
plan to replace all security and caterers reduced the possible
candidates, the assassin was still most likely to be one of the
competitors. Vin tuned into the speaker
on the stage. “There are ten teams
competing this year. Each has been given a competition name to
make things interesting.” Chris frowned. “He’s
kidding.” Ezra smirked. “I do
believe they are trying to make things more ‘entertaining.” “The CIA Warriors.”
To this there were cheers from the members. “The NSA
Heroes.” A louder cheer. “The Army Intelligence
Eagles.” Applause and whoops of support from each individual team
followed each announcement. “The Em7 Ghosts.”
Silence. Everyone turned to look at the named team who sat
staring at the stage. Amid the gaping silence, Buck leaped to his
feet and began doing a cheerleader dance complete with kicks and with
invisible pom poms. “Sit down, Buck,” Chris
murmured. Buck dropped to the ground. Murmurs and chuckles
followed. The organizing president
cleared his throat. “This morning events were randomly selected
from a large pool. Being passed around is a schedule for the
three days. I think you’ll agree there is something for everyone
whether you specialize in the field of security, military or
intelligence.” The men of Em7 crowded
their Colonel to read the schedule. Bravo Games Schedule Day one - 9:30
am: Opening ceremony
- 10:30 am:
Meet and greet fellow competitors
- 11:30 am:
Lunch - 12:30 pm:
Obstacle Course – 12 runner tag team event. - 4:30
pm: Showers - 6:30
pm: Opening Day Dinner Day Two Please note: Each
team member may compete in one small group activity only. - 6:30 am:
Breakfast - 8:30
am: Small Group
Activity 1 Bypassing
Security – Up to 6 competitors from each team
Small Group
Activity 2 Code
Breaking– up to 6 competitors from each team - 11:30 am:
Lunch - 12:30 pm:
Small Group
Activity 3 Marksmanship
– Two competitors from each team
Small Group
Activity 4 Hand to Hand
Combat – Two competitors from each team - 5:00 pm:
Dinner - 6:30 pm:
Professional Dialogue - 8:30 pm:
Orienteering. Day Three - 6:30 am:
Breakfast - 7:30 am: Team Elimination Event – details
disclosed on the day. - 2:30 pm:
Closing Ceremony – At Dustin Stadium - Presided over by the
President of the United States. “Doesn’t look like too
many problems for us,” Nathan commented. “What the hell is
professional dialogue?” Buck asked. “I dare say it is time for
us to exchange information with our professional colleagues on areas of
expertise.” “So I should share the art
of courting a fine lady?” Buck chuckled. “That, my friend, is about
all you are qualified to share unless anyone wants to know how to make
an ass of himself on national television.” “International,” Buck
corrected, bouncing his eyebrows. Vin scrutinized the
overview. “Each of us can only compete in one event
tomorrow?” His reading was improving but some of the words were
unknown to him. “Yeah. Security bypass, code cracking, shooting and hand to
hand,” Chris murmured. “J.D. and Nathan can take the security
event. Ezra, code breaking.” “Of course, Sir.” “Vin and Buck the shooting
and Josiah and I’ll handle the hand to hand.” “Works for me,” Vin
murmured. “Today?” “Team obstacle
course. 12 competitors. Who wants to run twice?” At that moment, an
official wearing a florescent vest approached the group. Em7 rose
to their feet. “Colonel Larabee, Albert Hill, Chief Judge.” Chris
shook the man’s hand. “We are thrilled to have you competing in
the Bravo Games.” “Thank you for accepting
our late entry.” Albert stroked his
beard. “Your phone call came as a surprise but we were very happy
to bend the rules a little. However, you need 12 to 15 members
for the two team events. I’m not sure how you will compete in
those. I had assumed you’d have ‘borrowed’ some extra men from
somewhere.” “No. Some of my boys
will simply double up… if that’s okay?” The judge blinked.
“Well, yes, but won’t that put you at a distinct disadvantage?” “Perhaps,” Chris responded. “It is our understanding
the Bravo Games is primarily about exchange of views and establishing
connections between the country’s intelligence and security agencies,”
Josiah stated. “The competition is just the vehicle through which
that exchange and connection can be made… yes?” “Well, yes,” the judge
agreed. “We’re just happy to be
here,” Nathan added. “We can honestly say
competing isn’t our priority this weekend,” Buck stated. The judge left glowing. “Friendly enough?” Nathan
whispered to Ezra. “I am positively
speechless, my friend. I believe now is the time for us to ‘meet
and greet’ as it were.” “Separate and cover as
much ground as you can. We need as many names as possible for
J.D. to process.” “Everyone had to hand in
their team lists this morning. Surely we could go to the
organizing committee and ask for the lists,” J.D. commented. “And if one of the
committee is working with our assassin?” “Oh,” J.D. murmured. “Our assassin may have a
partner or two,” Josiah mused. “If the opportunity
presents I will see if I can ‘borrow’ the lists without anyone
knowing,” Ezra murmured. Chris glanced at Ezra and
nodded his approval. ********* Vin and Ezra watched the
rest of the boys melt into the crowd, each of the others having spotted
someone they knew. “What chance do we have of
finding this guy before the closing ceremony?” Ezra glanced at his
partner. “Have you heard the term ‘buckleys’?” Vin grimaced. “No,
but it don’t sound good.” “While I believe in
hedging my bets, I predict it will come down to us identifying our
assassin as he’s about to make his move on the President on the 6th.” “I don’t like cutting
things so fine,” Vin murmured. He stared out at the sea of faces.
“Don’t know if I know anyone… can’t remember.” “Then simply glide between
the groups with me and we’ll see what we can hear. It always
amazes me what people discuss in the privacy of a crowd.” For five minutes, the pair
moved among their professional colleagues eavesdropping on
conversations. Vin placed his hand on Ezra’s arm and inclined his
head. Ezra strained to hear what had grabbed his partner’s
attention. A group from the CIA was discussing a man by the name
of Stutz, apparently one of the best sharpshooters in the
country. “You know him?” “Heard of him,” Vin
whispered. “Is he as good as they
say?” “Guess so.” “Zachary Stutz,” Ezra
repeated, quietly. “Why does that ring a bell?” “Because his father was
Lucas Stutz, an assassin for hire.” Vin followed the line of the CIA
agents’ gaze to peer at the man under discussion. “Maybe our
chances are a bit better than Buckleys.” Ezra’s face
shadowed. “Another man cursed by the sins of his father.”
Vin flicked his gaze to his friend and raised his left eyebrow.
Ezra sighed. “My father may not have the most stellar of
characters.” Vin grinned and slapped
his friend’s back. “Neither do you.” Ezra smirked.
“Touché. “ “Not saying we judge Stutz
on his father, but he may have connections and names we can use.
Son of an assassin may know or be able to recognize some.” Ezra’s chin bobbed.
“Good point. I suggest you go and introduce yourself to Mr.
Stutz. I’m sure he will enjoy speaking to a fellow sharpshooter.” “I’ll see what I can find
out,” Vin agreed. He started forward, paused and glanced
back. “I couldn’t give a stuff what your father’s like.” Ezra smirked. “You
do have a way with words.” Vin winked and stated as
he headed off, “Just call it as I see it, Standish.” Ezra sighed and pushed the
bubbling emotions aside. He had a job to do. Slowly he
scanned the open area trying to get a ‘feel’ for all that was going
on. Testosterone abounded. Men from different
organizations had broken up into small groups, their voices filling the
area. Body language was a window into what they were discussing and
their relationships with each other. Some stood close to one
another – comfortable to invade each other’s personal space.
Others faced each other front on, arms crossed – a barrier of distrust
between them. Some had open body language – they were here for
enjoyment. Others’ body language was closed – they were not here
for pleasure. Ezra frowned, noting
the lack of women. His expert gaze stopped briefly on Buck and
there he found the reason for the absence of females in other
areas. The gaggle of ladies were
suitably mesmerized. “Your Sexiest Man appearance is certainly paying
dividends,” Ezra chuckled. Ezra walked casually
through the crowd taking mental note of who was speaking to whom and
interpreting body language to ascertain relationships. Nathan was
chatting to a group from ESC who were open
and happy. Vin had successfully opened a conversation with
Stutz. Ezra smirked. Conversation was probably the wrong
word. Vin was nodding while Stutz did all the talking assisted by
lots of gestures. He was holding court. Ezra doubted Vin had
actually told the other man who he was. Ezra’s green eyes swept
around to Chris, but his attention was drawn to a woman standing a few
feet behind the colonel. Her stare was intense. Something
tweaked in Ezra’s memory but he couldn’t quite grasp it. As he
started to weave his way over to investigate further, a man cut him
off. “Standish?” “Agent Filippi, it has been a while.” “I hear you landed on your
feet. You’re with Larabee’s team now?” “That is correct.”
Ezra peered over Pilippi’s shoulder but
the mystery woman was gone. Silently he cursed and then set about
milking Pilippi of information on his team. ********** Josiah was amazed by the
comments and questions directed at him about Em7. “We simply
fulfill a need in our nation’s defense network like the rest of you.”
“So why is Em7 here?”
Officer Grant Culbert asked, voicing the
question on most people’s minds. “We believe the games will
provide us with the opportunity to meet and…” “Yeah, but why are you
really here?” Culbert demanded, smiling a
little too sweetly. Josiah leant forward and
lowered his voice. “We are here to foil an international espionage
ring.” The faces of the men
around Josiah showed a mix of shock and horror. Josiah beamed. “Do
you really think a military response unit would be ‘investigating’
anything?” Grins replaced the shock. “So, why are you
guys here?” Josiah rolled his eyes. ********* Chris nodded to the men
he’d been speaking to and filed the names away to share with J.D.
He hoped the others were having more luck finding potential
suspects. So far, he’d come up dry. “Larabee.” Chris glanced over his
shoulder and then turned to face the tall man glowering at him. “Former
Sergeant Stains. Heard you left the army.” Stains was truly an unlikeable man and Chris had
never seen the need to hide his feelings on the matter. “That’s right. I now
head the new SWAT: Specialist Terrorist Squad.” “A nice step up for
you.” Stains glared. “I’ve
done alright, no thanks to you.” Chris snorted. He
and Stains had crossed paths at Camp Eagle Bend in Katinda.
Stains had arrested a Katinese doctor for
‘assisting’ the enemy… the same man Chris and Vin had rescued from
being lynched a week earlier. Knowing the prisoner was likely to
face a Katinese court and be convicted of
treason for doing no more or less than Nathan would have done in the
same situation, the STF1 had broken the
innocent doctor free… on Stains’ watch. “You know that doctor was
simply helping someone in need.” “That was for a Katinese court to decide, Larabee, not you.” “Ever heard of something
called a fair trial?” “My family pulled up roots
in Pennsylvania. We spent every dime we had on a plantation in South
Carolina. My father and brother died in the war. I came back home to
find the bank had foreclosed on the property. I lost everything.
Where's my fair trial? “Stains, I don't give a
damn about your troubles with the bank.” A man walked up and
saluted Chris. “Colonel. It is an honor to meet you.” Chris nodded
politely. “There’s a book open on
the winner of the games. I’ve got a hundred dollars riding on
Em7.” Chris snorted and the
young man left. Stains continued to glare
at Chris. “My team won the last Bravo Games.” Chris smirked.
“Quite an achievement in the larger scheme of things.” Stain’s cheek twitched. “I
heard your men are the best.” “I heard that too,” Chris
stated, flashing Stains a smile before
turning his back on him and walking away. |
|
Part Eleven J.D. took a deeper breath
to settle his nerves. He knew it was ridiculous to be nervous
about something like this. Nervous about entering an enemy’s
compound with guards armed and shooting to kill -
yes. Nervous about running an obstacle course? J.D. released the breath
slowly. His companions were so relaxed about the competition…
tense about finding the assassin, but relaxed about the obstacle course. With one final stretch of
his hamstring, J.D. got to his feet and shook his limbs to keep them
loose. He was as ready as he’d ever be. Chris had selected him to
run twice. Buck and Nathan had already completed legs of the
obstacle course and Vin was out there now with J.D. to run next. During lunch, J.D. had
checked the names the boys had given him after the meet and greet session but nothing out of the ordinary had
showed apart from Stutz, whom Vin and Ezra had already identified. Behind J.D., the others
were talking but he couldn’t hear the words over his pounding
heart. He knew Em7 wasn’t here to compete, but he felt the
pressure of being number one… because Em7 was number one.
Everyone said so, even if they didn’t themselves. What if they were
beaten? Chris didn’t seem worried about it. Buck wanted to
win but for no other reason than rubbing it in the faces of a few
people. Nathan, Josiah and Vin seemed nonplused about the whole
thing. Only Ezra seemed concerned about Em7’s reputation. J.D. swallowed.
Tomorrow he would be in his element with the security challenge but
today was the team obstacle course. Buck and Nathan’s beginning
legs had put Em7 in second and J.D. feared he wouldn’t be able to hold
the position. “… but J.D. can check that
tonight.” J.D. glanced back at his
team. “Huh?” He shook his arms to use up some of the nervous
tension. Josiah smiled. “Relax,
son. Pretend it is just another day at training. You’ll be fine.” Dunne nodded. “Here comes
Vin,” Buck shouted. “We’ve hit the lead. Get ready,
kid.” Buck blew a raspberry at two ‘friends’ from another team
who responded ‘appropriately’. As Vin jogged in and
slapped J.D.’s hand, three other runners appeared over the crest of the
hill only 20 metres behind. J.D.
shot off to accompanying whoops from Buck. J.D. cleared his
mind. He just had to focus. He passed the other competitors
running in the opposite direction. Heading over the crest he
plunged down the steep incline and then raced through the knee deep
water at the bottom. Ahead he could see the high ropes course. ********* Vin bent over with his
hands on his knees to catch his breath. He accepted a bottle of Powerade from Nathan and nodded his thanks. “How are you holding up?”
Chris demanded. Vin nodded. He rose
and after taking several gulps, frowned. “Where’s Ezra?” “Pilfering,” Buck chuckled. “Team lists,” Chris
murmured. “Stutz has my interest.” “A bit obvious
though. They wouldn’t send someone who would be suspected
outright,” Buck argued. “Everything about this has
been arrogant,” Josiah mused, watching other teams with interest.
“Perhaps this is simply another example.” “Or Stutz has been
cleverly placed to distract us,” Nathan suggested. “We may not be
looking for one man.” “Or woman,” Ezra stated,
rejoining his friends. Larabee frowned.
“The assassin is a woman?” “In my experience the
female of the species is far more dangerous than the male,” Josiah
agreed. “Ain’t that the truth,”
Buck cooed. Ezra directed his
attention to Chris. “We have no evidence to the contrary so let us not
overlook the possibility. Unfortunately I was unable to obtain the team
lists, Sir. I believe the chief judge has them on him. I will try again
later today.” ********** J.D. chanced a look over
his shoulder. He couldn’t see the other competitors so he was
holding them. He peered ahead, but could not see sign of the
front runners either. A rope wall loomed in front of him. He used
to find this apparatus difficult but Chris had shown him a few tricks
of the trade and it no longer bothered him. The nimble young man
gripped the rough twine and hauled himself to the top. As he
placed his hand on the metal cross bar at the top, a bolt of
electricity hurled him backwards. He plummeted twenty feet. His
head smacked the ground heavily, but the momentum of the fall sent him
rolling off the track. On the other side of the
wall, the device was switched off and J.D.’s attacker hastily withdrew
into the thick scrub as other runners rounded the bend. The competitors
climbed the rope wall without harm… and without spotting the
unconscious young man lying hidden by the undergrowth. ********* Chris started limbering
up, knowing J.D. would appear at any moment.
Over the crest of the
hill, a head appeared… not J.D. Then a second… a third. Buck frowned and began to
pace like a caged animal. “Where is he? Chris stopped stretching,
his brow furrowing. A fourth runner. Vin walked up to stand at
Chris’ shoulder, his mouth turned down in a frown. “Something’s
wrong.” Another runner appeared
but rather than heading over to tag the next member of his team, he
raced for the official’s table. “Vin,” Chris prompted.
Tanner jogged to check it out but as he reached the conferring
group, he shot down the course yelling, “SIX is down!” Em7 took off en masse, the
course medical team, who were collecting their gear, left in their wake. ********* Vin raced under the high
ropes. “I pulled the Em7 runner from the bushes. He was
bleeding…” That was all Vin had waited to hear. J.D. was
bleeding? How badly was he hurt? Ahead, Vin spotted his
teammate jogging toward him. “J.D.!” Relief flooded Tanner,
but he could see blood oozing from the side of his friend’s head.
“You okay?” The gap between them
closed. “Yeah. I want to finish.” “What the hell happened?”
Buck bellowed as he and the others surrounded the injured man. J.D. tried to shoulder
through them. “I’m okay. Let me finish. I’ll explain
once I tag one of you to run the next section.” Josiah’s huge
hand grasped the younger man’s shoulder jolting J.D. to an abrupt stop. Chris flicked Nathan a
questioning look and Jackson shrugged. J.D. tugged free and
continued, the rest of the team jogging with him. “What happened?”
Larabee demanded. “At the rope wall, I got
some sort of a shock and fell. Hit my head. I’m fine.” “A shock? What sort
of shock?” Buck growled. “I don’t know. It
threw me.” Buck’s mustache twitched
with rage. The team crested the hill
and headed down the straight for home, several officials and the entire
medial team in hot pursuit. “Ezra,” Chris ordered as
they crossed the line. Ezra tagged J.D.’s hand
and shot off after the rest of the field which was now well ahead of
Em7. “Check out the rope wall,” Chris shouted after him. Nathan led J.D. to a bench
seat and forced him down so he could examine the cut. The other members
of Em7, several officials and three medical personnel, crowded around.
“Vision clear?” “Yeah. I don’t think
I was out for long.” “So you lost
consciousness?” Nathan asked, as Buck ripped a medical bag from one of
the course first aid officers and handed it to Jackson. “Yeah, but only for a
minute or two. I’m fine. Just a bit of a headache.” Nathan flashed a light in
J.D.’s eyes. “Pupils are reacting normally.” “Tell me about the shock,”
Buck demanded. “Calm down, Bucklin.” Buck glared at Vin.
“J.D. gets stunned and no other runner does? That sounds like an
attack to me and I want the bastard responsible!” The officials began
spluttering, denying such a claim and asking for calm. Chris
Larabee turned to them, his green eyes as hard as granite.
“Leave.” The tone sent the group retreating to inspect the rope
wall. Once Em7 was alone, J.D.
asked, “Do you think the assassin knows we’re here?” He grimaced as
Nathan set about stitching his head. Josiah rubbed his chin
thoughtfully. “I doubt it. If they’d wanted to do some
serious damage or even kill you, they could have while you were out. I
think this was more to do with the fact we are the symbol to beat,
whether we like it or not and whether we take any of this seriously or
not. I’m guessing this is a childish, college type prank that
went wrong.” “Damn right it went
wrong,” Buck roared. “They attacked one of us.” “Captain,” Chris growled,
ordering him away with the point of a finger. With a flurry of curses
Buck complied, storming back to Em7’s starting marker. “Whatever caused the shock
it wasn’t enough to kill you so Josiah may be right,” Chris
mused. “Nathan?” “He’s okay. I’d like
to get a head x-ray to be on the safe side.” “Nathan, I feel okay,”
J.D. protested. “It’ll probably be a two
hour round trip to the hospital and back,” the medic stated, ignoring
his patient. Chris nodded his approval
and then turned to study Buck who was pacing and muttering to himself. “Might be a good idea to
channel some of that energy,” Josiah suggested. “Let Buck run next.” Chris nodded.
Runners began to appear. Buck looked up.
“Chris, they’re coming in.” “You take the next one.” Buck’s face set.
“Yeah.” Ezra appeared over the
crest in seventh position, carrying something in his arms. He
tagged Buck and Buck exploded up the straight with a roar of aggression. Ezra handed the bundle he
carried to Josiah. “A car battery,” he gasped, drawing in long
drags of oxygen. “I located it carelessly tossed away at the side
of the track. Enough to give J.D. a shock but not kill him.” Josiah glanced at
Chris. “Like I said, sounds like a prank gone wrong. Just
supposed to have shocked him, but J.D. fell awkwardly.” “Why J.D.?” Chris asked. “In the eyes of many, the
least ‘dangerous’ of Em7,” Ezra suggested, tipping a bottle of water to
his lips. Chris shook his
head. “They’re sadly misinformed.” Ezra smiled. “In his
field, J.D. is second to none, and more
dangerous than our adversaries can possibly imagine, but he is the
least likely of us to retaliate with fatal force.” “He doesn’t need to,” Vin
reflected. “Buck will on his behalf. Speaking of Buck, if
he finds who did this…” “I’ll speak to him,” Chris
murmured. ********** It was almost impossible
to hear in the mess hall at the beginning of the Opening Day Official
Dinner. The New Zealand squad responsible for catering had
prepared a five course extravaganza. Em7’s table, which was set
for seven, was close to the door…as Chris had requested. The colonel scanned the
room. He wasn’t enjoying this. His team hadn’t got anywhere
and the first day was over. He knew his boys were tense, but each
covered it in his own way. The President was depending on them. Ezra smiled happily at
Chris. “Now, this is a little more my style. We may be
dressed in these oafish uniforms and staying in a hovel but we will
dine like gentlemen… well, at least this evening. Lunch was an
unappetizing affair.” Vin frowned at the dozen
pieces of cutlery. “Why the…?” “I’ll tell you which ones
to use,” Buck whispered. Vin snorted, picking up
one of the forks. Nathan took his napkin and
placed it on his lap. Josiah gazed longingly at
the kitchen. J.D. shook his head for
the hundredth time. Chris knew he was still annoyed Em7 had only
achieved third in the obstacle course because of the joke… or attack…
on him. Thankfully, X-rays had cleared him of any serious injury.
“We should have won,” J.D. grumbled. “Let it go, son.
You’re okay. That’s all that is important.” Josiah rubbed his
hands together as the food was served. “I could eat a whole cow.” “You usually do,” Nathan
laughed. Buck winked at a woman at
the next table. “Boys, I have to admit, I didn’t think I’d enjoy this,
but I am. I vote we attend the Bravo Games every year.” “We’re here to work,” Vin
reminded. “Yeah, I know, Vin.
I’m frustrated too,” Buck responded sincerely. “It is a waiting game, my
friends. We knew that coming in,” Ezra reminded. “We don’t wait well,”
Nathan pointed out. “I feel like we need to be
doing something,” Vin muttered. “We need to maintain our
cover. If we haven’t identified the assassin by the closing
ceremony, we’ll give the president the option of pulling out. If
he doesn’t, we protect him.” His men nodded unhappily.
“Relax and enjoy the meal,” Chris ordered. “When we get
back to the barracks, we’ll examine the facts we have.” “I saw Stains,” Vin
commented. “Remember him?” Chris grunted. “He
tells me his team won the games last time.” “I’m sure we can spoil his
party,” Vin stated with a wink. “Hello darlin’s,” Buck called, waving to a group of
ladies who had just exited the female restroom. They smiled and
returned the wave. Buck sat back in his chair with a look of
extreme self satisfaction. J.D. sighed with a mix of
amazement and disgust. “It’s my animal magnetism,
son. They can’t get enough of me.” “Where as we have had all
we can tolerate for one day. Gentlemen, if you will excuse me,” Ezra stated, rising. “The meal has just been
served.” “Quite, which means the
chief judge is eating and the team lists should be secured in his
hovel.” “They’re barracks,” Vin
chuckled.
Chris noted the action
with a twinge of concern. The level of intimacy between his men
had increased markedly over the last few months. The physical
exchange between the two least trusting men in his unit was an example
of how close they all had become. Such closeness was a
double-edged sword. He just had to hope Josiah was right and they
could all keep personal and professional separated when it counted. “You are staring,” Ezra
commented, eyeing his leader. “Get a move on.” “I will be fleet of foot,
Colonel, though I may circulate for a few minutes first. Earlier
I caught a glimpse of someone and while I believe I know her from
somewhere, my inability to place her is perplexing. Please don’t
allow anyone to appropriate my entrée before I return…and as you well
know, I am not referring to our waiters, but specifically to our
resident food sampler.” Buck smiled widely, his
hand darting out toward Ezra’s plate. “Don’t know who you’re
talking about, Ez.” |
|
Part Twelve The crackle of insects was
the only sound outside the barracks. The men of Em7 were seated
on the floor draped in sleeping bags. It was well after midnight,
but the official dinner had only just concluded. “That was a waste of
time,” Vin murmured, sipping from his mug of coffee. “Oh, I don’t know,” Buck
chuckled. “I scored four phone numbers. “Buck,” Chris stated
without emotion. Wilmington nodded,
realizing it was time to be serious. Light from the small lamp
in the centre of the group reflected off the men’s faces. “What do we know now that
we didn’t before we arrived?” the colonel demanded. “Not a lot,” J.D. stated,
reading from his computer screen. “As we still don’t have a copy
of the team lists…” “… which
perplexes me. Why weren’t they with all of the other paperwork?”
Ezra mused. “Well, until we get them,
we have the names of about 40 people. Only one that I can flag is
Stutz.” “Vin, I want you to mark
him. Become his new best friend.” Vin grimaced but nodded. Chris drained his coffee.
“What else?” “I spotted someone but I
can not place her. It is at the edge of my memory but I can’t
draw her out of the shadows.” “Welcome to my world,” Vin
snorted. Buck slid his arm over
Vin’s shoulders, but said nothing. “What does she look like?”
Chris asked, again noticing the physical intimacy… though it was Buck,
and Buck was physically intimate with everyone. “The glimpse was so brief
I’m not sure I can even describe her but there is something about
her…” Ezra shook his head in frustration. “Short blond
hair. Intense eyes. Heavy make-up. Not necessarily
good looking but far from ugly. Striking cheekbones. I’m
afraid that’s it.” “I’ll keep an eye out for
her, Buck offered, bouncing his eyebrows. “What else have we got? “There was an attack on
J.D.,” Buck mused, his voice tinged with anger. Nathan leaned back against
the wall. “I may have some information on that. Apparently
there is a long standing unofficial activity at each games, much to the despair of organizers.” “Who can play the best
practical joke?” Josiah asked. “There always is.” “So the attack on me
really was a joke gone wrong?” J.D. reflected, pulling his sleeping bag
further around himself. “Perhaps,” Ezra stated
carefully. Chris eyed Ezra. “Sending a low voltage current
of electricity through something metallic is ‘joke’ worthy to morons
but sending it through a cross bar twenty feet above the ground?
That’s either stupid or deliberately dangerous.” “J.D. couldn’ve
have broken his neck,” Nathan agreed. “An attack on us then?”
Chris asked. Ezra shrugged.
“Maybe our assassin is building toward his grand performance?
J.D. was just a victim selected at random.” “Too many possibilities,”
Vin murmured. “The practical joke
challenge may well explain why I saw several men from Army Intelligence
sneaking around in the dark while I was…” “… while
you were sneaking around in the dark,” Josiah finished with amusement,
the irony obviously tickling his unusual sense of humor. “… trying
to obtain the group lists,” Ezra finished. “Any idea what they were
doing?” “No. I did follow
them unseen for a few moments, but they went back into their own
barracks. I do believe they were Gillians
and the corporal with the leery expression.” Vin and Nathan exchanged a
grin. “You truly have a way with words, Ez,”
Vin laughed. The repeated phrase drew a wry grin from Ezra. Josiah stretched his long
legs. “This unofficial practical joke challenge going on behind
the scenes is going to make it more difficult for us to spot people
acting suspiciously… if you know what I mean. Tomorrow we may
have more luck getting people to talk to us about members of their team
who stand out for the wrong reasons. The small group activities
will divide teams and most will be more open to conversation.” “Chris won’t,” Buck
chuckled. “Bed down. We have a
big day ahead tomorrow,” Larabee ordered. All but J.D. got to their
feet. “Hang on. We have to
decide on a practical joke to play on one of the other teams,” J.D.
argued. Chris glanced at Nathan,
who grinned. “We’ve got that covered,
son,” Buck stated, slapping Nathan’s back. “I thought I was good,
but I don’t hold a candle to Nathan. When it comes to practical
jokes, we truly are in the presence of a master.” Vin’s gaze drifted to
Chris who had moved across to his bunk. For no reason at all,
Chris glanced back at him. They stared at each and without a
word, headed for the door.
“Buck,” Josiah
murmured. “Leave it.” “Is something amiss?” Ezra
asked. Josiah started unbuttoning
his shirt. “Vin’s travelling a bit of a bumpy road at the
moment. Visiting his Ma’s grave has led to a series of seizures…
memories of when he was a child, but he’s dealing with it.” The others stood still,
processing the information and then they too, made preparations for bed. ******** Chris and Vin headed for
the obstacle course and settled side by side on a bridge over a small
gully. The silence of the night was peaceful,
both entertained by their own thoughts. Chris glanced at his
friend, whose head was tilted back, looking up at the stars. “Okay?” “Yeah.” Chris gazed up at the
stars, a memory of his own dawning. “Windows.” “Huh?” Vin murmured, still
drawn by the spectacle nature had provided. “Something Sarah told
Adam.” Vin glanced at his
friend. Chris shrugged. “At
night, those in heaven open their windows to look down on those they
love and the light shines out the window. She told him when we
lost the dog.” Vin sighed and looked
up. “I guess it’s better than telling him that they are really
just balls of hot, smelly gas.” Chris smirked. “I’ve had a few more
memory flashes, but I’ve blocked them. Reckon they are probably
lost now. I only seem to get one chance at seeing the
memory.” Deep regret echoed in his voice. “That
worry you?”
Chris frowned, Josiah’s
wisdom from the night before weighing on him. Vin didn’t just
want to remember… he needed to. “The memory you’re searching for
is the one when your Ma told you about being a Tanner?” “What did she mean,
Chris? Was she just letting me know who I was?” Vin
whispered. “I don’t know. ‘Boy, you’re a Tanner’.
Those words have echoed in my heart every day since she died. I guess I
just wanted to live up to being a Tanner but… is that what she
meant? Or was she trying to tell me something else?” Chris slid his arm across
Vin’s shoulders. “I don’t know. I’m not sure you’ll ever
know for sure.” Vin looked at his
friend. “I don’t know why, but I have to know. I have to
know what she meant.” Chris nodded. “If
that memory pops into your head, I want you to let it come… as long as
we aren’t in battle and as long as one of the boys is there to keep an
eye on you. Okay?” Chris could see the gratitude in Vin’s
eyes. “Nathan and Josiah know what’s going on. I think we
better let the others know too.” “Yeah,” Vin conceded.
“I’ve done nothing but cause you problems since you guys found me a
couple of months ago.” “What the hell are you
talking about? You were causing me problems long before
then.” The pair exchanged a grin. “Chris, do you think we’re
going to be able to protect the President?” Chris looked up at the
stars. “We wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” ********** Nathan and J.D. took seats
in the small, modern auditorium. “Enoggera
sure has some money behind it,” J.D. commented, eyeing the stage where
several officials were waiting for the competitors to take seats. Nathan nodded. “It’s
close to the White House so all international visitors get the tour -
an example of our military facilities. Hence swimming pools,
auditoriums and state of the art facilities of every kind. Of
course, there are very few other military training facilities that look
like this. Appearances are very important on the international
stage.” “The other teams have a
lot more members here than we do,” J.D. murmured, noting most others
teams had at least four members present. “They were allowed to
choose up to six,” Nathan pointed out. “Do you think we’ll be at
a disadvantage?” Nathan smiled.
“Maybe, but it’s not important. Keep your eyes and ears
open. We’re only here for one reason.” “Yeah, I know… but I still
want to win,” J.D. murmured. Nathan winked at his
companion. “That’s fine, but don’t lose focus.” J.D. nodded. Nathan ran his eye over
the other competitors as they settled. Was the assassin who
intended murdering the President among them? Jackson reviewed
Em7’s plan for the morning. Chris and Buck were checking out Dustin
Stadium where the closing ceremony would be held. Vin was
shadowing Stutz, while Josiah was circulating among those competitors
not involved in the morning events. That left Ezra who was in one
of the other auditoriums competing in the code breaking event. “Ladies and gentlemen,” an
official on the stage greeted. The dull hum in the room
subsided. “This is the security event. The activity will
take place in a series of rooms near us. Each team will be led to
the event room when it is their turn. There, the activity will be
explained to you. You will have 60 seconds to plan your
assault. Teams will be ranked according to times. The team
with the quickest time will be ranked one and achieve ten points… the
slowest ranked 10th, achieving one point to add to their
overall total. Best of luck to you all. The order you
compete has been drawn from a hat. First up is the NSA Heroes.” There were some
confidence-building cheers from the four NSA men as they were escorted
from the room. J.D. sighed. “I
thought we’d get to watch the others.” “Guess it stops everyone
copying. We better start circulating.” As the pair rose to
join those who had stood to stretch their legs, J.D.’s name rang
out. “Hey, J.D.!” Nathan turned toward the
speaker and watched stunned as a young man wearing a CIA armband
launched himself at J.D., the smile on his face advertising this was
not an attack. J.D. caught the other, stumbling backwards
with the impact. “Mickey?
Mickey!” The man in J.D’s arms leaped down and the two grabbed
hands. “Hell! I didn’t
expect to see you here.” “We entered at the last
minute,” J.D. stated, a smile splitting his face. “Nathan, this
is Michael Boyle… better known as Mickey Mouse among the Tech guys at
the CIA. We used to work together. Mickey was one of the
guys who helped me shut down the web when Vin was kidnapped.” Nathan offered his
hand. “We are in your debt, Mickey.” “Hey, I was pleased to
help. When J.D. called, I thought it would be impossible but… we
did it.” Nathan watched the two
younger men begin trading barbs. Mickey didn’t look much older
than J.D. but then, that wasn’t surprising The CIA had been
recruiting gifted computer techs right out of high school for a number
of years and putting them through university themselves. It was
working for them too. They had the best techs in the
business. “What do you think the
activity will involve?” Mickey asked. “Don’t know, but I’ll be
faster than you, Mouse.” Mickey punched J.D.
playfully. “I’m going to make you eat those words, Dunne.” ********** Chris hadn’t wanted Vin to
be on his own in case the memory he was waiting for returned, but it
couldn’t be helped this morning. Vin’s gaze narrowed.
He’d been watching Zachary Stutz all morning. The other
sharpshooter was an unimposing figure but his reputation was
impressive. So far Stutz had spent
time with his team in the barracks, but for the last twenty minutes
he’d been alone, pacing between buildings like a caged animal.
Deciding it was time for their paths to cross, Vin left the
shadows. He jogged around the outside of one of the buildings,
stopping to tie his shoelace where Stutz would reappear. Josiah
had said it was important for him to find out what made Stutz
tick. Easier said than done. Looking up as Stutz
emerged between the two structures, he nodded a greeting. Stutz smiled. “Hello
again. Trying to get away from your squad too?” “I like my own time,” Vin
agreed. “So, you’re not competing
this morning either?” “Security and codes ain’t
my thing,” Vin stated, rising. “So, what is your
thing…didn’t catch your name.” “Vin. Vin Tanner.” “Tanner?” Stutz’s
eyes widened and then he smiled. “I’ve heard of you. You
were the best before I came along.” Vin snorted. “You’re
pretty sure of yourself.” “I don’t miss.” “When the lives of your
team depend on you making the shot, you can’t.” Stutz frowned thoughtfully
and nodded. “Interesting way of looking at it. I’m with the
new SWAT Terrorist Squad. Before that, I was a New York SWAT
officer. The life of a sharpshooter is a lonely one.
Usually, the rest of my team is elsewhere while I wait patiently for
the right shot and save the day.” Vin and Stutz began
walking along the path away from the barracks. “I’m
military. I’m usually out in front of my team or behind them,
covering them. Other times I’m hidden waiting for the order to
take my shot like you.” “So why are Em7 here?” Vin shrugged. “Just
joining our fellow organizations. The more we all share, the
better for the nation.” “Ahh.
So you’re a patriot?” Stutz appeared genuinely amused. “I fought for this
country. You?” “I find national pride and
loyalty amusing and sadly overrated. Do you think the President or
America feels any loyalty to me? To you?” The unprompted reference
to the President did not go unnoticed. Was Stutz fishing for a
reaction? “For example, if you went
missing in action, Tanner, do you think America would give a damn… or
would it abandon you?” Stutz took out a packet of cigarettes and
offered one to Vin. Vin felt the burn of anger
in his chest. Clearly Stutz knew he’d been missing in action in Katinda and was trying to rile him. Vin
kept his expression blank as he declined the cigarette. “I guess it is
all a matter of perceptions.” Stutz lit his
cigarette. “Good answer, Tanner. So, is your reputation simply a
perception or are you as good as they say you are?” “My team survived Katinda, that’s the only measure of my ability
that’s important.” Stutz smirked, blowing
smoke rings. “You’re a real team man.” Vin found the comment
fascinating. “Aren’t you?” Stutz snorted. “No.” The pair turned down the
path toward the obstacle course. “Surely in your line work, it’s
essential to trust your team?” “My father was a
professional assassin. He was killed by those he trusted
most. The last thing he ever said to me was, to be number one,
always put number one first. Good advice, don’t you think?” It was another
challenge. “Whatever floats your boat.” Stutz grinned. “Dear
old dad also said to learn as much as possible about your enemy. You
don’t rile easily even when baited, but you’re a team man and a
patriot. Thanks for the information, Tanner.” Stutz offered his
hand. “Two weaknesses I can exploit should we ever end up on
opposites sides.” Vin held Stutz’s hand as
the other man started to pull away. “Two motivations that helped
me survive a hellhole like Katinda.
Underestimate them at your own risk.” Stutz smiled as the pair
dropped their hands. “I like you, Tanner. I’ll enjoy
beating you this afternoon.” Vin smirked. “There’s more
to winning than shooting well.” Stutz nodded. “I
couldn’t have said it better myself. Catch you later, Tanner.” Vin frowned as the other
man walked away. He hadn’t thought Stutz was their assassin, but
this encounter had changed his mind. Pulling his phone from his
pocket to contact Chris, he paused when a group of men
approached. One waved the others away and walked up to Vin
smiling. “Hey, Tanner. I
couldn’t believe my eyes yesterday.” He offered his hand. Vin could tell by the
other’s body language that he knew him. Unfortunately, Vin was
drawing a blank. The question was, should he say so, or just play
along? “I heard you’d been killed
in Katinda.” “Almost.” Noting the
man’s armband Vin asked, “CIA?” “Yeah. Honorable
discharge after Kat. I joined the CIA.” “How does it compare?” The other man
smiled. “It doesn’t, but don’t tell anyone I said that. So,
what’s Em7 like?” “They’re a great
team. Yours?” “Yeah. I’ve worked
with all of them for a few years... well apart from one. He’s new
to our group.” “Oh? Bit hard adding
someone new for the competition?” “Yeah. He’s a good
man, but I think the stress has got to him a bit. It often gets
to the newbies.” Vin’s interest was
immediately peaked. Ezra had said the assassin may be feeling the
stress of the situation. Vin raised his left eyebrow prompting
further information. “I guess it’s
nothing. He bit my head off the other day when I saw him talking
to a woman in the parking lot.” “Oh? So she was a
looker?” Vin asked casually, trying to milk more information. The other man shrugged,
swatting a fly. “Sort of. Blond, but really intense
eyes. I could go for her,” he added with a grin. “Maybe it was his
girlfriend and he didn’t like the idea of a Casanova like you looking?”
Laughter erupted from the
former soldier. “Who knows with these computer techs.
I better get going. I’ll see you at the shooting later today.” “Yeah.” Vin watched the man go,
reflecting on the conversation. The CIA computer tech had been acting
strangely with a woman that sounded remarkably like the one Ezra had
spotted and couldn’t place. Vin set off for the security event
where the computer tech was most likely competing. Nathan and
J.D. were perfectly placed to investigate further. ********* “No,” J.D. stated
aghast. “No, Vin. I know the CIA computer tech. There’s no way
Mickey is involved in anything.” Nathan squeezed J.D.’s
shoulder. “We need to check.” “But…” J.D. flashed a look
of desperation from Nathan to Vin. “Lieutenant, this guy helped
me to shut down all web…” “I get it, kid. You
trust him, but we have to be sure. When you’re finished here, you
need to check him out.” J.D. grimaced, but
nodded. “Yes, Sir.” “So, have you two competed
yet?” Nathan shook his head. J.D. pointed to the board
on the stage. “The time to be beat is two minutes, forty-six
seconds. We’re up next.” “Good luck. I’m
going to keep snooping.” Nathan turned to J.D. as
Vin left. “Sorry, J.D.” “It’s okay. I know
Mickey will check out, Nathan. “Em7,” an official called. “Here we go,” Nathan
whispered. ********** The code breaking event
was set up in the mess hall. Each of the ten teams was sitting at
their own table waiting for the officials to set things in
motion. Only Ezra sat alone. “Been abandoned,
Standish?” Ezra smiled up at the man
who had stopped next to him. Leaning back in his chair, Ezra
studied the tall Asian with interest. His armband identified him
as a member of the FBI, hence this had to
be Hwang, a world renowned decoder. “It only takes one man to
break a code.” The Asian smirked.
“I’m Tatsu Hwang, I’m sure you’ve heard of
me.” Ezra shook his head. “I
admit ignorance, I’m afraid.” Hwang’s cheek twitched but
the smirk remained. “I’m the man all agencies call on when they
have something they can’t crack.” “Strangely, we have not
needed to,” Ezra commented. Hwang’s smile
faltered. “I was interviewed for a position in E.M.6 but it went
to an international terrorist.” Ezra grinned at the man’s
attempt to unbalance him with psychological warfare. “Then it
would be true to say the better man won.” “Hardly. That will be
proven today.” Hwang eyes flashed ire. “I wish you and your team
of decoders the best of luck. Unfortunately, my colonel
expects efficiency. There wasn’t room in his team for three men
to do the simple task of decoding.” Hwang leaned closer to
Ezra. “You’ve got a smart mouth, Standish.” “It complements my ‘smart’
brain perfectly.” Ezra’s green eyes hardened. “Now,
eliminate yourself from my space or I will remove you
personally.” The FBI agent
straightened. “Your colonel will want an explanation why you were
beaten today, Standish. You can tell him it was by the man he
should have in his team. I will be applying for your job after
this.” Ezra smiled. “That
is a job interview I look forward to witnessing.” Hwang walked away.
Ezra shook his head. A year ago, he would have wondered if his
colonel would consider replacing him. Now such doubts were given
the contempt they deserved. A man and a woman strode
over to Ezra, both watching Hwang leave. The woman offered her
hand. “Carmen Walker and Dennis Bolt, Naval Security Group.” “Ezra Standish, Executive
Mediation Seven.” Ezra shook Bolt’s hand. “I see Hwang’s been
bragging again. Do you mind?” Bolt asked, indicating an empty
chair at the table. “Be my guest.” The
two NSG agents took seats. “And yes, Mr. Hwang is certainly
gifted with considerable confidence.” “He’s arrogant, but a
genius,” Walker claimed. “We’ve called on him a few times to
crack things for us. Most groups have. He has this activity
in the bag.” “Interesting. So
what is it I can tell you?” Ezra asked, sipping from a bottle of
water. His guests looked the picture of
innocence. Ezra smiled, his gold tooth catching the light
and flashing. “Oh come, come. Surely it is not my engaging
personality or my obvious good looks which has drawn you to my table.” Walker grinned. “Not
exactly.” “I’m crushed,” Ezra
claimed, placing his hand over his heart. Bolt became serious.
“Why’s Em7 here?” Ezra took another sip of
water. “Why do you believe we are here?” “Rumors are running hot.” “I’m sure they are.
Far be it for me to end the delicious innuendo.” “If there’s something
going down, let your colonel know he has the full support of NSG.” Ezra smiled. “Were
something going down, I’m sure Colonel Larabee knows he can depend on
all branches of the armed services.” Walker and Bolt
rose. “We just wanted to let him know.” Ezra smiled. “For
which we are grateful.” A female voice called for
attention. Ezra directed his attention to the speaker and his eyes
narrowed. It was the blond woman with the intense gaze he’d seen
yesterday. She was a member of the organizing committee? “Friends, do you know that
lady’s name and which agency she is with?” Bolt shook his head, but
Walker whispered, “Senior Agent Melissa Hilford.
National Security Agency.” “Hilford.”
Immediately Ezra remembered. She’d been present at one of his
exchanges when working for SeCReTs.
There had been a mole there that day and Ezra had suspected a number of
people… Hilford one of them. |
|
Part Thirteen Nathan and J.D. followed
the official into a small room. To one side there was a table
containing different tools. Nathan placed his hand on
J.D.’s arm, noting his friend’s deeply furrowed brow – a mixture of
nerves and anxiety. Jackson knew Vin’s order to check into Mickey
had thrown the younger man. J.D. was still young enough to
believe all friends could be trusted. “Only two from your team?”
the official asked, surprised. “Only seven in our team,”
Nathan responded, releasing J.D.’s arm. He nodded encouragement
to his partner. J.D. drew in a deep breath
and his chin bobbed. The official asked, “Are
you ready?” “As we’ll ever be,” J.D.
responded, scanning the room. “In a moment I will
explain the task. You may use any of the tools on the table along
with anything you have brought with you.”
“Of course. So far
every team has brought a computer,” the official stated. “Once I
have explained the task you are permitted one question. After
that, you will have one minute to prepare your assault. Ready?” Nathan turned to his
younger teammate. This was J.D.’s ballgame. He was just
along for the ride. “J.D.? Are we ready?” “In a moment.” Dunne
moved across to the table, cleared some tools out of the way, put his
laptop down and pulled up a chair. Quickly he switched on his
computer and checked he had wireless service. “Yep. Go.” Nathan turned to the
official. “Yep, go.” "Your job is to collect
four tokens from four different rooms and insert them into the machine
there. Once all four are inserted, the clock will stop.” Nathan eyed the small slot
machine and then glanced at J.D. who rose to examine it. Dunne
nodded calmly. The official swept his arm
in a circle. Nathan noted the four doors, one on each side of the
room. “All four doors are alarmed with identical alarm
systems. Cutting the electricity to this building will not affect
the alarms, so please don’t attempt it. Cutting the wires will cause
the alarms to sound immediately. Each door has an individual keypad
with a different code. The doors unlock automatically when the
alarm is disengaged. In each room you will find a different
token. For each alarm that sounds there is a one minute
penalty. Do you understand?” “Yes,” J.D. responded,
pursing his lips thoughtfully. Briefly, he examined the tools on
the table, then turned back to the official. “You may now ask your one
question.” Nathan frowned. Seeing this, the official
elaborated. “For example, you may want to know how many digits
are in the codes. Or whether the alarms are connected to one
another or…” “What is phone number of
this building?” J.D. interrupted. “The phone number?” the
official asked, perplexed. He checked his clipboard. “Ummm. I don’t think I… hang on. Here
it is.” J.D. moved to his
computer, sat down and nodded. The official read the number
out. “Your one minute preparation time starts now.” Nathan leaned over J.D.’s
shoulder. “Ummm, do you need me to…” “No.” Dunne’s
finger’s danced. Nathan stepped back,
smiled at the official and shrugged. “So, nice weather we’re
having.” The seconds ticked
away. “Time?” J.D. asked. “Fourteen seconds to go.” “Damn,” J.D.
snapped. Nathan sighed. “Damn
isn’t good.” He began to pace. “Five… four… ,” the
official counted down Nathan moved to stand next
to J.D. “Kid? “Hang on.” “Two… one… Go.” “J.D.?” “GO! All of the
alarms are off. I’ll take those two doors!” J.D. shouted. Nathan shot off and ripped
a door open. There was no alarm - not that Nathan had doubted his
partner. The sergeant grabbed the token off the table in the
center of the room and raced to collect the second before meeting J.D.
at the slot machine. Nathan dropped his two tokens in and J.D.
followed suit, stopping the clock at 9 seconds. “Yes!” J.D. roared. The official
blinked. “That was… that was incredible.” J.D. threw his arms around
Nathan and began jumping up and down. “We did it!” “You’re amazing.”
Nathan patted his partner’s back and stepped back. “But how did
you do it?” J.D. grinned. “It
was a risk. We probably should have taken the safe option and
plugged the laptop into the console and… but I knew the quickest time
we would get doing it the traditional way was about two and a half
minutes. So, I tried to think outside the box.” He pointed
to the door console. “These are Rubic alarms, and all Rubic
alarms are monitored by Rubic Security Systems. Monitored alarms send
reports via the telephone line at regular intervals. Knowing the
main phone number of this building allowed me to break into telephone
records and then isolate the extension numbers that were clearly being
used to send reports. Then it was just a matter of hacking into
Rubic Security System, inputting the exact phone numbers for each alarm
to identify it and then sending a standard deactivation program to
those alarms.” “J.D., I’m sure that makes
perfect sense to you,” Nathan laughed. J.D.’s face split with a
smile of triumph. “I can’t wait to see Mickey’s face!” ********** Ezra was distracted as the
official gave the welcome spiel. The Em7 agent’s attention was on
Hilford, who was standing to one
side, her back ramrod straight, her hazel
eyes roving with serene dominance. This was a woman not to be
trifled with. Her blond hair was swept back in a bun, her
expression hard and efficient. She had made it in what was still
largely a man’s profession and to be equal to her colleagues she needed
to be better than them. All of this Ezra could read from her
appearance and body language. Why had he suspected her so many
years ago? The former SeCReTs’ agent remembered vague pieces of the
puzzle. It had been an exchange. Hilford
and several others had been involved. Ezra had identified a mole
within the exchange but he’d never identified who. Someone had
been working with the enemy… providing them with information.
Ezra had suspected Hilford along with
several others but it had taken place over five years earlier and he
couldn’t remember the details of the case itself. In those days,
he was involved in two or three exchanges a week. He only handled
the lead up and actual exchange. The follow-up was the
responsibility of other SeCReTs’
operatives so he’d simply handed on his suspicions and moved to the
next case. He couldn’t be sure if the mole had been identified or
not. In those days, that was someone else’s job. “Being delivered to each
table is a box and a timer,” the official explained. “The timer
will be activated automatically at the start of the activity.
When you believe you have broken the code, depress the button on the
timer to stop it and an official will check if you have been
successful. Last games, it took six hours and fifty four minutes for
the first team to solve the code, though the record is three hours and
forty-eight minutes… for those who are interested.” Hwang shot Ezra a smug
smile. “The Casanova of
self-love,” Ezra chuckled. “Any questions?” the
official inquired. There were none. “Allow me to set the
scene. A spy has been killed before he could be questioned.
The box you have contains everything found both on him and in his hotel
room. We know he was planning something big. The code you need to break
is included in the box.” Absentmindedly, Ezra
nodded his thanks to another official who placed a large cardboard box
in front of him. His thoughts were elsewhere… searching his memories of
his past encounter with Hilford. “All teams now have their
box. Please be aware that your job is two-fold. To crack
the code and to decipher what the spy’s mission involved. Ladies
and gentlemen, you may begin.” There was a flourish of
activity as lids were yanked off boxes and the contents pulled
out. Ezra watched with fascination as teams began sifting through
the clues in an almost desperate manner. Amused by their actions,
Ezra calmly emptied his own box. Inside he found a neatly folded
set of clothes, an envelope, a newspaper, a television guide, a Bible,
a packet of crackers, a bottle of tomato juice, a pair of sneakers and
a blank sheet of paper. The din in the room rose
as groups allocated tasks. Ezra picked up the
envelope and held it to the light. He sniffed it and then
carefully slid out four coloured sheets of
paper – red, white, blue and green. The paper lacked any unique
features, the dye, weight and texture standard. Each sheet was covered
in evenly spaced numbers. The pages themselves weren’t numbered
so any one could be the first. Ezra laid the coloured sheets in front of him and pursed his
lips, starting his analysis. The code was numerical… a continuous
series of numbers. He frowned thoughtfully. Code breaking
depended on identifying the key. The key was most likely one of
the other items in the box. The numbers in the code would
correspond to letters or words from the other print items. The
first number on the red page was ‘6’. Did it refer to the sixth
page of the newspaper… a television program starting at six o’clock,
the sixth book of the Bible… the sixth verse in a particular book of
the Bible? It could be any one of these things. Ezra was distracted by
movement. Hilford was purposefully
walking between the tables, clutching a clipboard like it was status
symbol. As the NSA’s representative on the Bravo Games Organizing
committee she had to hold a senior role in her own organization… which
meant she had moved up the promotion ladder quickly. The early din of voices
had been replaced by whispering… no one wanting to give away their
strategy. Ezra smirked watching as one man began shredding the
clothes from his box while another crushed crackers. Hilford moved closer but turned
right before reaching Ezra. A deliberate attempt to avoid me?
Ezra lowered his gaze to
the code. Four pages. Four print items -
the newspaper, Bible, television guide and sheet of paper.
Perhaps each coloured sheet related to a
different print item… a clue to the spy’s plans found in each. Ezra
slowed his breathing, closed his eyes and cleared his mind. Rain
Man he wasn’t, but he was good with numbers. Patterns tended to
jump out at him. Opening his eyes slowly,
Ezra deliberately blurred his vision before pulling it into
focus. ‘3’ was the most prominent number on the red sheet… ‘1’
was often followed by ‘9’. Ezra frowned. It almost appeared
too simple. It looked like a very simple number to letter code
with a slide of 2. Hence the numeral ‘3’ appeared the most
because it represented the most common letter
‘e’. ‘E’ is the fifth letter of the
alphabet so by sliding back two, it gave ‘3’. By sliding
all letters of the alphabet back two… It appeared to work when
applied to the red sheet. There were huge paragraphs of gibberish
but inserted amongst the gibberish were passages from the Bible.
Specifically, the story of Joshua and the battle of Jericho when the
walls came tumbling down. Jericho was
a small town in the US. It had to be the first clue… but Ezra was
suspicious. There was no way it could be this easy. He
applied the code to the green page but it didn’t work… nor did the
letter to number slide two rule work for the white or blues pages. Ezra focused on the blue
page. ‘8’ was the most frequent number. “A different code
for each page?” But it is supposed to be one code. So
the code I’ve discovered and used on the red page is, in fact, a red
herring, which means Jericho means nothing. There has to be a
second code that will also work on the red page as well as the other
three. “Back to the drawing
board,” Ezra murmured. He placed the newspaper, television guide,
Bible and blank sheet of paper above the four coded pages. All
apart from the blank sheet used printed numbers… it was the odd one
out. Ezra picked up the blank sheet and examined it. The
paper was cream, and heavier than normal paper. He raised it to
the light and sniffed the sheet. The unmistakable aroma of Beldine wafted from it,
Beldine was the latest
chemical used to write ‘invisibly’. To bring the inscription to
light, he needed acid. “Acid,” Ezra
murmured. His gaze settled on the tomato juice. Picking up the
bottle, he checked the ingredients and identified vinegar. It was
a low grade acid, but it would do. Opening the tomato juice,
Ezra dipped his finger and smoothed it over the blank sheet.
Rather than words, four simple hand-drawn pictures came to light...
monuments from around the world. The Eiffel Tower. The
Great Wall of China. Mount Rushmore. The old Berlin Wall. Ezra’s frown
deepened. Man-made monuments. Different
continents. Huge size. Two walls, a mountain and a
tower. Three walls if the reference to Jericho is included. Ezra looked back at the
code spread over four pages. Four sheets of paper. Four
Monuments. Four written texts. Four Continents. Four…
four… four different codes? Ezra glanced up at Hilford as she passed. “Agent Hilford. We have not had the pleasure for
some time.” The woman stared at him
with calculated ignorance. “I’m sorry?” Ezra’s smile
broadened. “We met several years ago during an undercover
exchange while I was in the service of SeCReTs.” Hilford shook her head, her face
the picture of confusion. “I’m sorry? SeCReTs?
I don’t recall an exchange with that organization.” Ezra pursed his
lips. “You are either a remarkable agent or a very poor one.” “I beg your pardon?” “If you do
remember me, your innocent act is flawless and certainly an asset to
your organization. If you don’t remember such an important
exchange, I have to ask how you advanced so far in the NSA.” Hilford’s eyes narrowed.
“Then you must continue guessing, Agent Standish.” “Guessing is for amateurs.” “True.” Hilford agreed sternly, moving off. Ezra’s brow
furrowed. She was good. Try as he might, he couldn’t
remember at which exchange Hilford had
been present. Ezra returned his
attention to the task at hand. Four pages. Four man-made
monuments. Four continents… Four is the key. Four different
codes.” Ezra shook his head. It simply had to be one
code that fit all four pages. He’d already found a false one and
was sure this double code had been included to throw him. Ezra scanned the pages one
at a time. He glanced at the sheet of drawings and blinked.
Abruptly, Ezra sat up. Grabbing his pen, he quickly began
transcribing the green page … then the blue …and then the white.
A smile of satisfaction lit his features. Stretching out his hand
he flexed his fingers and then stopped his timer at sixteen minutes and
twenty-four seconds. The device gave a single beep. Every
set of eyes in the room turned to him. Hwang’s face shadowed with
disbelief. Ezra winked at him and sat back. Hilford and an official made
their way towards Ezra, both looking skeptical. The woman nodded
to the young man who recorded Ezra’s time. “Agent Standish, if
you will follow me.” Ezra raised his left
eyebrow. Hilford lowered her voice.
“Naturally, we don’t want others to overhear your finding.” “Of course.” “Stokes, stay here.
I can handle this,” Hilford
instructed. She inclined her head for Ezra to follow. Ezra stepped out of the
building into a small alley, holding the door for Hilford
and then closing it for her. Out of the corner of his eye, he
spotted movement, but before he could react, he was slammed against the
wall. ********* Dustin Stadium was the
premier stadium in DC. The old Washington Stadium had been
bulldozed to make way for this new one 8 years earlier. Chris
stood dwarfed in the middle of the field, and did a 360 degree turn,
taking in all aspects. The roof of the 150 000 seat stadium was
closed, lit by hundreds of powerful lights. Already set up was a
stage at the far end of the field.
Placed at each entrance
and dispersed at intervals around the stadium were members of the
Australian special squad who had taken over security. Chris
nodded his thanks to the group’s colonel. They hadn’t met before
today but Colonel Dirk Rudd was efficient and Chris was satisfied
things were in good hands. Buck escorted the
President of the Bravo Games organizing committee across to Larabee who
was standing with the bull-chested Rudd. “Colonel Larabee, what is
the meaning of this? First you replace the caterers we hired and
now you’ve had foreigners take over security. What’s going on?” “I apologise
for keeping you in the dark, Agent Matherson,
but my instructions come directly from the President,” Chris stated. Buck grinned. It was
an embellishment of the truth. “The President?” Clearly, Matherson was stunned. He was FBI.
The organizing committee was made up of five volunteers from various
groups. “There is something we are not being told.” Chris drew his gaze from
the roof and let it settle on Matherson.
“Nothing you need be concerned about. I want you to outline the
closing ceremony for me.” Matherson nodded slowly.
“Yes, Sir.” He opened the clipboard he held. Chris started walking
toward the temporary stage. “The President will be seated on the stage?” Rudd, Buck and the
Committee president followed. “Yes, first I will speak, then the US security chief and then the
President.” “How long?” Chris
murmured. “My speech is about five
minutes. I’ve been told the Security chief will speak for seven
minutes and the President for s….” “Six minutes,” Chris
finished. “The President will not sit on the stage. He will
be escorted out for his speech and then remain for the
presentation. Where are the media cameras?” “Photographers will have
passes and be seated on the grass section in front of the stage.” “No photographers,” Chris
ordered. Matherson licked his lips.
“Colonel, I don’t…” “Television cameras?” “Four stationary ones –
two close, two hanging from the roof.
They are operated by remote control.” “Perfect.” “There will also be five
cameramen roving around…” “No roving cameramen.” “There’s been a threat to
the President’s life,” Matherson murmured. Chris glanced at
him. “Assure me you won’t share that suspicion or I will need to
act appropriately.” Matherson’s eyes widened as Buck
stepped up behind him. “I… of course, Sir. I understand.” Chris held the man’s gaze
with a cold, hard, impassionate stare. “Good.” His team had
cleared Matherson but they couldn’t afford
for him to say anything to anyone. “Where do the teams sit?” “We reserve the bays
behind the stage so that the rest of the stadium is free for the
public… apart from the top tier of seating which we use for…” “No public. I want
the teams on the grass in front of the stage so they can be seen
clearly. Anything else?” “We have a singer and…” “No entertainment.” Matherson shook his head. “I…
Colonel, it is going to be a very short and boring ceremony.” “Let’s hope so,” Chris
murmured. “Top tier of seating?” “Around a quarter of the
circumference,” Matherson stated, lifting
his eyes and arcing his arm to indicate the area, “At the top of each
set of stairs, we place a leader of one of the teams. They stand with a
flag pole and during my speech I announce the name of each and the
leader raises the team flag. It is very effective.” He handed
Chris a diagram which showed the stadium with crosses where the flag
poles would be, each one labeled with a team name. “Flag? We don’t have
a flag,” Buck murmured. “The leaders stay with
their flag until the President announces the winners – 3rd, 2nd
and then 1st. Those leaders then carry their flag down
the stairs and up to the stage to be presented with a trophy.
Each member of the winning team is then called forward and is awarded a
medal. Please, Colonel. This is tradition. At least
allow us to keep this.” “We don’t have a flag,”
Buck whispered in Chris’ ear. “Fine. The flag bit
can stay.” It would give him a bird’s eye view of all that was
going on during the ceremony. “What happens after the winners are
announced?” “The winning teams leave
the stage. The singer presents an inspirational song written
specifically for the event and then leads us in the National Anthem.” “The winning teams will
remain, forming a circle around the President. No singer or
song. Just the Anthem.” “Who will lead it?” Matherson asked. “Just play the music and
everyone will sing,” Chris stated. “Then?” “Then we have a Catholic
minister provide a denomination free blessing and we finish with
fireworks.” “No fireworks. Buck,
the minister will need to be changed. Have Josiah arrange it.” Buck nodded and took out
his phone. Chris turned to
Rudd. “I want every person who enters the stadium checked for
weapons. No one is to being carrying hardware apart from your
squad.” “Your men?” Rudd asked. “They’ll have knives and
revolvers.” Rudd nodded. “I want four of your men to take
over the President’s security detail the moment he arrives here.
They are to keep him hidden and escort him to the stage.” “Understood, Colonel.” Chris turned and scanned
the massive stadium. “You’ve swept for bombs?” “Yes,” Rudd
affirmed. “The stadium is clear. I took the liberty of sending
for a backup Australian squad to take care of the perimeter while we’re
inside during the event. Chris offered his hand to
the Australian. “We’re in your debt.” Rudd smiled. “You
owe me a beer.” Chris smirked.
“Probably more than one.” The smile disappeared as he turned to
face Matherson. “Nothing we have
discussed can be repeated. You will announce the changes when the
buses arrive here. Say anything to anyone and I’ll have you shot
for treason. Understood?” Matherson blinked and his face
paled. “I understand, Colonel.” |
|
Part Fourteen Ezra hit the wall,
training preventing him from reacting. Two commandos dashed by,
one yelling out ‘sorry’.” “Neanderthals. You
are unhurt, Agent Hilford?” Ezra asked, as
she too, stepped away from the building where she had been shoved. “I can take care of
myself, Agent Standish.” “I do not doubt that for a
moment.” Their eyes met. Hilford crossed her arms. “The code.” “The code itself is so
simple most will dismiss it in search of something harder.” “And that code?” Ezra stepped closer,
invading her personal space. “I cannot remember exactly when we
crossed paths. Can you enlighten me?” “I don’t remember,” Hilford stated impatiently, holding her ground. “You don’t remember when
or you don’t remember meeting me?” Hilford glared. “Agent
Standish, you are wasting my time. The code?” Ezra smiled, knowing he
had her off-balance. “A very basic letter-number slide two rule…
something any primary school child can solve.” Hilford smiled with
triumph. “I think you will find such a key only works for one of
the four pages.” “It works for all four… as
long as one does no confine himself to English,” Ezra pointed out,
flicking an invisible speck of dust from his sleeve. “An interesting
twist having each page written in a different language and quite
masterful hiding the clue to the languages in the hand drawn monuments
– Eiffel Tower… the green page was written in French. Berlin
Wall… the white page was written in German. I admit Chinese had
me stumped for a moment as numbers can not be translated into Chinese
characters and then I remembered the use of Pinyin… the way of writing
Chinese characters using English letters.” “You speak four languages?” “Seven,” Ezra
obliged. “Yourself?” Hilford licked her lips.
“Four. And the spy’s target? “He was going to kidnap a
US senator on Independence Day in the town of Jericho.” Hliford nodded. “We really
didn’t think anyone would crack the code this year. I’m
impressed.” “As am I.” In French
Ezra stated, “And again I ask when was it we met? I find it
difficult to believe I can not place such a formidable colleague.” Hilford’s expression relaxed at the
flattery. She responded in French, “I was part of a
team purchasing information on a terrorist cell based in South
Africa.” With that, she turned and re-entered the room. Ezra smiled. He had
chosen the right key to unlock Melissa Hilford.
This lady was not impressed by comments about her looks. However,
praising her competence was a different matter. “Terrorist cell…”
Ezra’s heart rate increased. He remembered. Three years ago that
terrorist cell had put out a hit on the President of the United States. ******** Em7 collected in the
barracks to compare notes. “How delightful,” Ezra
grumbled, unwrapping a plain sandwich. Buck had grabbed lunch
from the mess hall so they could have a team meeting. “Names?” Chris prompted. For a few minutes, the men
shared contestant names they had uncovered. J.D. ran each but no
one jumped out as a problem. Ezra gathered the empty
paper cups and tossed them in the trash. “I finally have an ID on our
mystery woman.” His explanation left his colleagues
frowning. “The terrorist cell was
known as ‘World Harmony’,” Ezra finished. J.D.’s fingers
tap-danced. “World Harmony. They’re still active.
They have claimed responsibility for several assassinations in the last
few years.” “Which fits,” Chris
agreed. “Hilford is the connection.” “She could be,” Josiah
murmured. “Looks pretty clear,” J.D.
argued. “Ezra was at the exchange
too. Does that make him ‘the connection’? Look in the
records of any member of the STF1 and you will see an association with
the Hawks… does that make us accessories to all they do?” Josiah
mused. “We must not allow ourselves to jump to conclusions.
Our perceptions of all connections are heightened, whether those
connections are innocent or not.” Chris nodded
thoughtfully. “We keep a close eye on Hilford.
Vin, what about Stutz?”
Vin picked up an apple
from the collection of fruit Buck had secured. “He’s self-centred, directed by personal success and is
loyal only to himself.” “Perfect mercenary and
assassin material,” Nathan agreed. “If it is Stutz, we have
him covered. Everyone will be searched when they enter Dustin
Stadium for the closing ceremony,” Chris declared. “Anything
else?” Vin glanced at J.D., his
expression apologetic. “Apparently the CIA tech guy has been
acting out of character and was seen talking to someone who looked like
Hilford. J.D. knows him.” J.D. grimaced and focused
on his leader. “Chris, I know Mickey. He isn’t involved in
this.” “Good,” Chris stated
without emotion. “It’s your job to prove it. I want to know
everything you can find on him, Hilford
and Stutz. I want to know their regular routines and I want their
phone records and bank accounts checked. You know the drill.” “Yes, Sir,” J.D whispered
uncomfortably. “Vin, stay on Stutz.
Ezra, Hilford.” The pair nodded. “Maybe I should take a
crack at Hilford,” Buck offered seriously. Ezra pursed his
lips. “Don’t take this the wrong way, my friend, but I don’t
think she will succumb to your particular charms.” Buck slid his arm across
Ezra’s shoulders. “No offence, Ez,
but no one is a match for El Buck.” “No one? You appear
to be forgetting the lovely proprietress of The Saloon,” Ezra reminded
with a smirk. Buck released his
friend. “Inez prefers buckskin… though I can’t for the life of me
think why.” “Shut up, Buck,” Vin
grunted, rising and exiting the cabin. Buck beamed at the
others. “I’m telling you, he’s sweet on that fiery filly.” Chris’ brow
furrowed. “Boys, you should know that meeting his family affected
Vin more than he wants to believe.” “He met his family?” J.D.
asked, amazed. Chris nodded.
“Things are complicated.” He watched Vin as he disappeared from
view. “Family always is,” Ezra
muttered. Chris glanced at Josiah
and nodded. Josiah rubbed the stubble
on his chin. “It is important we all understand what Vin’s going
through, but be mindful of the fact Vin is a very private person.” Each of the others nodded. “Vin’s amnesia after the
war was the second time his life had been turned upside down and his
memories stolen from him. After the death of his mother, he lost
everything. A couple of days ago, he reconnected with that past,
opening up a door to emotions and wounds he’d long forgotten. The
only two things he’s held on to from his childhood are his harmonica
and a statement his mother made to him before she died. In the
last few days, Vin, understandably, has become obsessed with working
out what his mother’s final message to him meant for he now believes it
had a double meaning and that she was trying to tell him something in
the only way she could.” “Should he be here?” Ezra
asked. “Yes,” Chris responded
with certainty. “Vin’s totally in
control,” Josiah assured. “He had a number of
seizures before we left, but he’s been blocking them since,” Chris
explained. “If I thought for one moment he wasn’t in total
control of this, I’d have left him at home. However, I’ve told
him if the memory he’s looking for comes, he’s not to prevent it… It’s
really important to him.” “Is there anything we can
do to help?” Buck asked with deep concern. “As I said, Vin’s in full control,” the psychologist and now
expert on UIMR assured. “I know that for certain. He won’t
allow anything to the surface unless he knows it’s
‘safe’ to remember.” “Safe?” J.D. asked.
“Safe meaning…?” “We’re not under fire and
one of us is close to support him. Vin’s really sensible about
his condition. He knows how dangerous it can be, but
understanding his past is his link to understanding who he is,” Josiah
explained. “If the memory comes and he blocks it, he may never
get another chance and psychologically, that would tear him apart.” Chris turned to Buck who
would be spending the afternoon with Vin. “He told me before
lunch that he’s had several flashes of when his mother was in hospital
so the memory he’s after is getting closer. Keep an eye on him.” Buck winked. “Always
do, Kemosabe.” Chris patted his friend’s
shoulder in thanks and the men went their separate ways – Buck to the
armory to meet Vin, Chris and Josiah to the gymnasium for the
self-defense task, Nathan to purchase the item needed for their
practical joke, J.D. to run background checks and Ezra to snoop around
a little more. ******* The armory was empty apart
from the officer stationed at the door for security reasons. Vin removed his rifle from
the stand where it had been secured since arriving. No other member of
Em7 had brought a rifle, but his relationship with his weapon was a
little different to most. As a sharpshooter, his weapon was his
partner… an extension of who he was. Vin could feel tension
across his shoulders. He had been able to keep his family out of
his thoughts since the start of the mission but now, standing alone,
Richard… his grandfather.. his father... Molly… and his mother… edged
into his the corner of his awareness. Memories of his childhood
were knocking but he wouldn’t allow them to the surface while he was on
a mission. He knew Chris had said it
was okay for him to allow a seizure if it meant finding out what his
mother meant and for that he was grateful, but a mission was no place
for personal business. Then again, maybe if he could remember, he
may understand his mother’s final words … understand why she’d been
buried a Taylor… understand why his father, who’d had his family’s
blessing, had married his mother is secret. Vin glanced over his
shoulder as Buck flashed his badge and entered the long, narrow room.
“We’re early.” Buck nodded.
“Yep. So is Gertrude okay?” Vin smirked. Buck
had named his rifle because he’d been so obsessive about it in Katinda. Buck bent to retie his
shoelace. “You haven’t said anything about your trip.” Vin paused and his face
flickered with annoyance. Returning his attention to ‘Gerty’, he muttered, “No place for personal
stuff on a mission.” “I guess I agree, but we
aren’t machines and there’s no way any one of us can simply turn off
our personal life when something major is going on. Going back to
find your Ma was a huge step, Vin.” “Buck…”The guttural edge
in his voice was unusual because normally he could hide inner turmoil. Buck straightened.
“Hey, I’m just saying I understand if you’re feeling a bit…” Vin’s right eyebrow
rose. “A bit what? Chris put you up to this, didn’t he?” Immediately, Buck raised
his hands pleading for calm, but he looked guilty. “Just checking
you’re okay. I know about the seizures.” Vin grunted. Chris
had said he was going to tell the others. “I’m in control.”
At least, he had been so far. “Haven’t allowed any since we
arrived. Had a few before.” “So you found your ma’s
resting place?” Vin stared at his friend
for a few moments. If they spoke about it, memories were sure to
be unearthed. He could order Buck to stop but he knew the memory
he was after was close and right now, there was no danger to his unit
and Buck was here. Better now than when things hit the fan at the
closing ceremony. “Vin? Did you find
your Ma’s grave?” Vin bobbed his chin and he
laid his rifle on the table. Opening his rifle kit, he took out a
rag and bottle of oil. “And?” Buck
prompted, watching as Vin begin the familiar routine of preparing
‘Gertrude’ for combat. “You’re a nosy bastard,”
Vin muttered, pouring some oil onto the rag. Buck grinned.
“Direct as always, kid. That’s something you and Chris have in
common and hey, it just a casual inquiry to find out if everything went
the way you wanted.” Vin drew in a deeper
breath and exhaled slowly. The nagging questions about his family
started again. “I found the lady who lived next door to me when I
was a kid,” he reflected. “She remembered you?” Buck
asked carefully. He seemed to sense he was treading dangerous
ground. Vin’s hand stilled and the
tightness feathered around his eyes eased as he glanced up.
“Yeah, she remembered me.” And inner warmth he’d only ever really felt
with the boys flooded him. Aunt Molly hadn’t forgotten him.
He suddenly had the urge to talk to her. Buck smiled. “Well,
go on.” For a moment they stared
at each other. “I’m not sure…” “Just you and me here,
Vin. If you keep bottling this up it could come pouring out when
we need you. We’ve got at least fifteen minutes… and Chris said
it was fine.” Vin eyed his companion.
Buck had clearly come with the intention of helping him remember.
“So, your neighbor
remembered you.” Vin snorted, picked up the
rifle bolt and started polishing it. “I spent a lot of time with
Aunt Molly, especially at the end of Ma’s life when she was in
hospital. Molly would spend all day sitting talking to Ma and I’d
wander the corridors of the hospital getting up to mischief.” Buck nodded in sympathy.
“Not easy on anyone, let alone a kid.” Vin grunted, holding the
bolt up to the light before placing it on the table and picking up the
barrel. “Don’t remember much… apart from the smell. Hate that
smell.” It was a smell that triggered feelings of desolation… of
helplessness and of grief. Buck grimaced and changed
the subject. “Aunt Molly… she a relative?” “No.” Vin stared
down at his rifle with increasing intensity. Images began to
flash in front of his eyes and then settled. He could see his Ma…
in hospital. Molly was sitting next to her. It was in
hospital his mother had spoken to him. He needed to know in what
context his mother had told him, ‘Boy, you’re a Tanner.’ *** Buck’s eyebrows drew down
and slowly he rose. Vin’s face had just drained of colour. “Vin?” Pinching at the side
of his friend’s left eye confirmed Buck’s fear. Vin has having a
seizure. Swiftly Buck moved
to his companion’s side, gripping Vin’s shoulder as he’d seen Chris
do. “Easy, Kid. You stay here with me on this side of the
door.” Vin swallowed. In a
low, distant voice he began recounting what he was ‘seeing’.
“We’d spend the day at the hospital with Ma and then I’d go back and
stay with Aunt Molly overnight. Even had my own room there.
I always got to choose what I wanted for dinner. We ate a lot of
hotdogs, but I missed Ma… I was so certain she’d come home.” Buck squeezed Vin’s
shoulder. “I know… stay with me, Vin. Can you hear me?” “Huh? Yeah… I’m okay,
Buck. I’ve tried to keep the memory closed, but it’s open now
and… I need to remember this.” It was a plea. “I know. Do you want me to
call Chris or Nathan?” “No. I… I can handle
it.” Vin swallowed and exhaled,
trying to focus on the memory again. “Molly, not Uncle Ryan,
looked after me.” He sounded surprised. His face shadowed
further with the tell-tale pallor that happened during and after a
seizure. “I must have lived with her for months… spending all day
at the hospital and sleeping at Aunt Molly’s. Bit hard to tell
because you don’t really have a sense of time as a kid, do you?” Vin
blinked and looked at Buck. “I guess not.” As
long as Vin kept responding to questions and making comments he was
okay. “Sounds like this Molly
was a good friend to your Ma,” Buck encouraged. Vin shrugged off Buck’s
hand, checked the chamber of his rifle and began dissembling it. Buck frowned. Was
that it? Was the memory over? *** Vin drew back from the
memory and began analyzing what he’d ‘seen’ and assimilating it with
the other memories he’d recalled. Aunt Molly had always been a
part of his life. She’d looked after him a lot… right from the
day he was born. When his mother had got really sick… Again
images began appearing in front of his eyes. Dr. Oatts. Dr Oatts
telling him he couldn’t visit his mother any more. Vin’s hands stilled and
his gaze deepened until he was looking through the rifle… staring
through the door into the memory… staring at a terrified little
boy. Aunt Molly was really angry. But there was no
more. The memory drifted away from him. He had to know and
so, he pushed… walking through the door into the memory. |
|
Part Fifteen Vin gasped. Buck
grabbed his friend’s shoulder again in an attempt to anchor Vin. “… there is only one living soul who should be with
that woman and that is her son. You have no right to deny her or
her son a single moment together. Vin will continue visiting Emma
or so help me, I’ll have every television
station on this planet here to see how a heartless doctor is denying a
five year old child access to his dying mother.” Buck shook his head.
They weren’t Vin’s words. They were the words of someone else…
someone from Vin’s past. Vin’s memory of whatever incident he was
recalling was perfect… like it had just happened. Due to his UIMR, he
remembered the exact words spoken. A voice in the back of
Buck’s head urged him to call Chris and Nathan, but he knew an
interruption at this stage may cause Vin to lose the memory… and by the
sound of it, this was the memory he’d been trying to recall. Gently, Buck removed the
rifle from Vin’s fingers and guided him to the seat. “Easy,
Vin. You still with me?” “The day Ma died,
Uncle Ryan was there.” His face twisted as if trying to make
sense of what he was recalling. “…sitting in the chair beside
her, talking to the doctor.” Abruptly Vin drew in a sharp
breath. His eyes glazed further. Buck knew his friend was
being drawn into the memory! “Vin? Vin, can you hear
me? Vin!” Buck dug his phone from his pocket. The
officer on the door entered the room. “LEAVE!” The man
did. “Vin… can you hear me?!” *** Oblivious to what was
going on around him, Vin allowed himself to be swallowed by the
memory. Something’s wrong… Uncle Ryan’s crying. Molly’s
holding my hand really tight. “Vin, can you hear me?!”
Buck’s voice? Buck’s voice coming from a long way away. He
didn’t want to lose focus on the memory but he had to assure Buck. Blinking, his vision
focused. Buck was attacking his phone. He grabbed his
friend’s hand. Buck jumped. Vin
strengthened his grip. “Vin?” Vin lifted his gaze to his
friend and nodded. “I’m okay, Bucklin,” Vin insisted, though it sounded
unconvincing even to his own ears. Buck gripped his
shoulders, “I lost you there for a moment.” Vin could see how Buck
would have thought so. He patted his friend’s arm. “Just
remembering is all. I needed to see it clearly. Had to let the memory
take over for a bit. Didn’t mean to scare you. Thanks for…
for bein’ here. I should have waited
until after the mission.” He should have but… he’d been so close
to remembering this time. Buck’s face relaxed.
“Scared the shit out of me, Vin. Just… just warn me next time...
and by the way, I disagree.” “Huh?” “You aren’t going to be
able to relax until you have this sorted out. The colonel knows that.
For what it’s worth, your team likes the idea of our sharpshooter with
his mind at peace, so maybe you should speak to Josiah and see if he
can help you unlock that one memory.” Vin eyed Buck. “So visiting your Ma’s
grave and seeing this Molly has prompted a lot of memories like this?” “Yeah. I
didn’t realize how much time I’d spent with Aunt Molly. I’ve
remembered my Ma was unconscious in the days leading to her death and
that Molly was there the whole time… and so was I. I’ve always
thought Ma spoke to me just before she died but that isn’t really
possible, is it… if she was unconscious.” “I guess not.” “At the end, Molly told me
Mama had to go and that I needed to say goodbye, but her eyes were
closed.” Emotions swamped him and he swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple
jumping. Buck licked his
lips. “Maybe I should get Chris and Nathan.” Vin shook his head
slowly. “I’m fine.” Vin’s dazed gaze met
Buck’s concerned one as he allowed the memory to open again… inching
closer to that moment he so desperately wanted to remember. “I
was terrified…” His left eye pinched as another seizure began. Abruptly there was an
explosion of voices as half a dozen men entered the armory to collect
weapons. The memory drifted.
Vin heart twisted, but he let it go. He blinked, orienting
himself. Buck had stepped between him and the entering
competitors. “Buck.” Buck spun around, his face
awash with concern. Vin shot his friend a
warning look and returned his attention to his rifle. He stared
down at it, his mind gradually reclaiming focus on reality.
Emotionally, he shut his eyes knowing he may well have just lost his
chance to know what his mother had meant. *** Men and women from the
other teams bustled around the men of Em7. Buck collected one of the
base rifles and laid it on the table next to Vin. Still
concerned, he eyed his friend. Vin was pale, and his eyes were
closed. “Vin?” Tanner blinked and began
reassembling his rifle. “Focus on the mission, Captain.” Buck shook his head in
frustration and growled, “You just had a seizure, Lieutenant. I
think Nathan should have a look at you.” “I’m fine, Captain.
Let it go.” ********** The huge gymnasium was a
new building and boasted the best ‘unlimited’ resources could buy. Stains called the members
of his SWAT: Specialist Terrorist Squad around him. While only
two could compete in this particular activity, Stains knew the impact
of intimidation and so had brought seven men. The other five
members of his twelve man unit had gone to the shooting competition. The self-defense activity
was one of the four key events in Stains’ strategic plan. As soon
as the activities were announced, Stains had analyzed them, identifying
the ones his team had the greatest chance of winning. If he could
secure those, it was just a matter of keeping his team in the top four
of the other two events and the Bravo Trophy… and more importantly,
title of the ‘Best’ would again be his. Stains fully understood
how important winning the Bravo competition was. Whether people
liked it or not, the team that won was automatically elevated in status
among the others. Following SWAT: STS’s last victory, they had
enjoyed the fruits of that status. Everyone knew who they were…
everyone apart from Larabee. Stains and his team were
determined to win again. The obstacle course, sharpshooting,
self-defense and team event were activities that played to the unit’s
strengths. SWAT: STS had won the obstacle course, but only placed 4th
and 5th respectively in the code breaking and security
events so they really needed to win the self-defense and sharpshooting. Stains looked up as
Larabee and Sanchez entered the building. His face shadowed with
aversion. Larabee’s team was the main competition. They
matched Stains’ men for competence in the identified key events.
SWAT: STS had won the obstacle course and Em7 had placed only
third. The problem arose in the fact Em7 had won the other two
events. Em7 was the team to beat. “Alright, men. We
know what we need to do.” The group crouched around their
leader. “Sharpshooting and self-defense are two key elements in
our plan.” “Stutz has the
sharpshooting in the bag, Sir,” Grant Culbert
claimed. Stains glanced at Culbert. “You think so? I take it
you’ve never heard of Vin Tanner?” Two of his men shook their
heads, but the three ex-soldiers in the SWAT team knew Tanner. “Tanner’s a freak of
nature,” Page muttered. “Stutz is good,” Warrick
agreed, “but rumor has it that when it comes to sharpshooting, Tanner
is the bastard child of Clint Eastwood and Yoda.” Stains nodded.
“Stutz is the best marksmen I’ve ever come across but if half of what I
was told about Tanner during the war is true, the best we can hope for
in the sharpshooting activity is a tie. And that’s not good
enough because that will give Em7 three wins and a third and we’ll only
have two wins, along with a 4th and 5th. We
don’t just need to win the self-defense activity,
we need to take Em7 out.” “Take them out? Page
asked. “What do you mean?” “All is fair in love and
war, Page… and this is war,” Stains growled. His men frowned. “Just tell us what you
need us to do, Sir,” Culbert stated,
pledging his support. Stains smiled. He
glanced over at Larabee and Sanchez who were chatting casually to men
from Army Intelligence. Stains turned back to his men and lowered
his voice. “Operation Eruption.” ********** “What are we doing?” J.D.
asked. Ezra glanced at his
companion as they strolled across the compound. “We are about to
afford ourselves ingress to the domiciles available and emancipate all
articles of pertinent knowledge for amalgamation into the streams of
conscious reflection we have established relating to the alleged
termination of our realm’s principal.” “Huh?” Ezra glanced
Heavenward. “Today’s education system has a great deal to answer
for.” He stopped walking and looked at his colleague. “We
are going to break into each of the other team’s barracks and snoop for
information about the assassination of the President.” “Oh. I thought Chris
wanted me to run background checks on Mickey, Stutz and Hilford.” “He does, but as that
information is not required at this precise moment, it can wait an
hour. I need your help.” As the pair rounded a
building, Ezra stepped back, his arm sweeping across J.D. and drawing
him against the wall. He felt his partner tense and then relax,
moving automatically in the direction Ezra indicated. Ahead Mickey and Hilford were walking towards one another.
They slowed as they got closer and both began to look around
furtively. Ezra peered across the
distance and watched as Hilford signaled
Mickey to follow her between two buildings. “Stay here,” Ezra
ordered. He darted after the pair. When he made it to the
alley his quarry had disappeared into, he stopped and flattened himself
against the wall of the adjacent building. Stealthily he edged to
the end and then took a mirror from the small kit he kept in his
pocket. Holding it up, he angled it so he could see Hilford and Michael Doyle. Mickey had his
back to the Em7 agent but Ezra could see the young man was shaking his
head. Hilford nodded and then the
pair shook hands. Hilford turned and
walked to the other end of the alley, Mickey starting back toward Ezra. Standish shot across the
open area and around the corner to where J.D. was waiting. “Well?” The conflict reflected in
J.D.’s eyes did not pass by Ezra unnoticed. “I’m not sure.
I couldn’t hear what was exchanged but I think it is true to say they
know each other.” “The woman in the parking
lot that Mickey’s colleague saw him with was likely to be Hilford then,” J.D. murmured, somewhat sadly. Ezra patted the younger
man’s back. “J.D., allow me to share a piece of wisdom my mother
taught me. Friends are merely enemies who haven’t shown their
true colours. Come on.” J.D. trotted after his
partner. “That’s cynical, Ezra.” “No, that is reality, J.D.” Ezra took out his lock
pick as they approached the CIA barracks. After peering though
the window to ascertain the building was empty, Ezra moved to the
door. “Keep watch.” J.D. turned his back to
Ezra and scanned the area. “How can you think that about friends,
Ezra? Do you think that about me?” “If you were a friend, yes
I would. I’m in. Stay here and signal me should any member
of the CIA return.” With that, Ezra slipped inside. ********** “Hey, Tanner. Knew you’d
be contesting the shooting,” a man stated, walking up Vin. Fearing Vin wasn’t up to
conversation, Buck stated, “Will you look at that piece of hardware.” All twelve sets of eyes in
the armory were drawn to the strange looking rifle Buck was pointing
at. It had dials, gauges and gadgets connected to it. “Sniper’s rife,” Vin
murmured. “You’re a sniper and your
rifle doesn’t look like that,” Vin’s former friend now working in the
CIA commented. On the man’s duffle bag, which he’d dumped at
Vin’s feet, was the name, Sergeant Charles Hardy. “I prefer to have greater
control, Hardy. Rely on my senses not on equipment.” “A man couldn’t miss with
a rifle like that,” Buck reflected. “A rifle like that won’t
make a bad marksman hit the target, but it will ensure a good marksman
doesn’t miss,” Vin explained. Appearing to realize he had an
audience, Vin shrugged. “Different rifles are designed for
different purposes. That one is a sniper’s rifle.” “The gauges and dials
assist with assessing wind speed, trajectory and shit like that,”
another man stated with authority. “A sniper needs them when
making long range shots, but a rifle like that is too heavy for a
sharpshooter to carry on missions behind enemy lines. You need
something lighter like this.” Vin indicated his own weapon. “It’s
got a powerful scope. That’s all a marksman really needs.
If he can see it, he should be able to hit it.” “You talk about marksmen
and snipers as different things,” an FBI agent commented. “Marksmen and snipers are
two different things,” Vin stated softly. Buck smiled. Vin was
an expert in this field and while he rarely spoke more than two
sentences in a row in front of those he didn’t know, in areas he was
comfortable, like horses, motorcycles and rifles, Vin could talk for
hours. “And sharpshooters?” Buck prompted. Vin shrugged. “Most
use the terms marksman and sharpshooter interchangeably and I guess
they’re right. Chris sees them as two different things.”
Vin paused. “Look, I…” “Please go on,” the FBI
sharpshooter prompted. “You’re an expert. Speaking for
myself, I’d like to hear what you’ve got to say.” There were murmurs of
agreement from the other men and women now crowded around Vin. “Don’t claim to be an
expert,” Vin stated, clearly becoming self-conscious. “None of us are interested
in hearing from some dweeb who knows about rifles but has never shot
one. You’re a real sharpshooter. The Bravo Games is
about teams sharing knowledge. And you’ve got a lot of knowledge
in this area.” “He’s right,” Buck agreed,
brimming with pride. “So, the difference between marksmen,
sharpshooters and snipers?” Vin frowned. “Marksmanship
is about hitting the target. Usually close range, no more than
500 feet. This competition is about marksmanship. Anyone
who can hit a target with an accuracy rate over 95% can be considered a
marksman. Sharpshooting, at least in the eyes of my colonel, is
marksmanship in context. Whatever the context, a sharpshooter
should be able to adapt to it. Whether you’re in the middle of
the jungle, a crowded shopping centre… whether you have bullets
flying at you, bombs being dropped around you or whether you’re in the
middle of a hurricane, a sharpshooter has to do his job. Often he
doesn’t have a target before he starts a mission, but must select
targets according to his unit’s need. For a sharpshooter there is
only one goal -- protecting his unit.” “And a sniper?” Vin rubbed his chin
thoughtfully. “Sniping is specialized marksmanship. A
sniper usually has a specific target and he knows about it before he
begins the job. That target may be human or an object. A
sniper may be required to lie in wait for the perfect shot for hours or
even days so he needs the patience of a saint, in some cases the
physical fitness to remain perfectly still and totally alert during
that time… and the fortitude to wallow in his own excrement.” Vin
winked at Buck. “Learned that word from Ezra the other day.
Normally I’d say shit.” There were chuckles from
the men around Vin. “Go on, Sir,” one of Vin’s
colleagues stated. “Not much else to
say. While a sniper may be attached to a team, he tends to work
very much in isolation at the critical moment for the sniper’s only goal is hitting the target.
Nothing can come between him and that target for that is his role.
Nothing will sway him from taking that shot and no one expects him to
do anything but take the shot. That is where he differs from a team
sharpshooter. A sharpshooter will forfeit the shot if there is a
threat to his team. The expectation is for him to protect his
unit regardless of what is going on around him.” “And you do a hell of a
job,” Buck praised, thumping Vin in the middle of the back. At that moment, Stutz and
several other men entered the room. Vin dropped his gaze to his
rifle, the ‘lesson’ at an end. Those collected around him drifted
away. Casually, Vin glanced up,
watching Stutz remove the sniper’s rifle Buck had been fascinated
by. He couldn’t help thinking it was overkill bringing a rifle
like that to a simple marksmanship competition. Stutz struck him as the
type who liked to be on show and his rifle was certainly attracting
attention. Then again, there could be a far more sinister reason…
and that was why Chris wanted him to mark Stutz. If Stutz was the
assassin, Vin would need to take him down before he made his shot. ********** Chris scanned the
gymnasium, his patience wearing thin. The sooner the closing
ceremony arrived the better. Then his men
could actually do something constructive. “Got the draw,” Josiah
stated, passing it to Chris. “Like tennis, we have to defeat an
opponent to progress to the next bout… and continue doing so until
there are only two men left standing. They fight off in the
final. That’s where you and I should meet and where I’ll cream
you, Colonel.” Chris smirked. “No
doubt you will. Rules look simple enough. No low shots or
shots to organs. Scoring shots are to the torso and head.
Protective vests and headgear is compulsory. If you can hold your
opponent for five seconds, the bout is awarded to you.” Chris
glanced at his huge sergeant. “All you’ve got to do is hold them,
big guy.” Josiah beamed. “I
love it when a competition suits me.” The competition began with
thunderous cheering. It appeared most of the other teams had
brought along non-competing members for moral support. Chris easily won
his first bout with double the scoring shots of his opponent and so the
colonel progressed to the next round. “Sanchez – Em7
Ghosts. Thomas – Air Intelligence Bandits. You’re up
next. Take your positions,” an official ordered. Josiah strode out to the
middle of the padded floor and smiled as his much smaller opponent
completed strapping his protective vest on and walked hesitantly to
join him. Josiah turned to the Air
Intelligence men standing together. “Haven’t you got anything a
bit bigger?” There were chuckles from
all other teams. The buzzer rang. The smaller man
attacked. Josiah grabbed his opponent’s right arm and right leg
and like a weightlifter, hoisted the smaller man over his head.
Gasps rang out and then laugher. The five seconds drew to a close
and Josiah lowered his struggling opponent to the floor. He
smiled and offered his hand, which the other man took. “What do you eat for
breakfast? Small luxury cars?” the Air Intelligence Agent
demanded good-naturedly. “Nope. Medium sized
trucks,” Josiah boomed, patting the man’s back as they exited the floor. |
|
Part Sixteen “Can I have your
attention, gentlemen,” the official called. All marksmen and
their accompanying cheer squads seated on the grass in the open range
became quiet. “The competition is very simple. Twenty-four
competitors. Fifty shots each at stationary targets and fifty at
moving targets. Range, two hundred feet.” To this there were some
murmurs. The distance was a lot further than traditional firearms
qualifications used by law enforcement and security agencies. “Top ten shooters receive
points for their teams… 1st, 10 points, 2nd 9
points and so on. Those are the stationary targets.” A few
feet away were some traditional targets. “The moving targets are
those you can see overhead.” The men looked up.
There were a series of cables and hanging from them were twelve-inch
squares with different numbers on them. The squares were only a few
inches apart. The official activated the cables and they began
moving like a chair lift or cable car, the numbers flying along at
considerable speed. “Each of you has been allocated a number from
1 to 24. You need to hit your number each time you see it moving
across the range. Each number will appear only 50 times so to achieve
50 hits you need to hit it every time you see it. Hit someone else’s
number and they get the points. Any questions?” “Any restriction on the
type of rifles we can use?” Hardy asked. Several looked toward
Stutz. The official shook his
head. “No. Most of you have scopes on your rifles and there
are scopes available to all those who are borrowing base rifles.
Anyone else?” “So, two men from the one
team could effectively take out first and second?” The official nodded.
When there were no further questions, he ordered the men to stand and
move back the designated two hundred feet. “We will start with the
stationary targets. We have 12 targets so competitors 1 to 12, please
take your positions. Vin and Buck were numbered
7 and 8 respectively and so took places next to each other. “Slight breeze blowing
diagonally across the range,” Vin stated in a hushed voice. Buck nodded, pulling his
rifle into his shoulder to check the site. “Stutz is shooting in
the next group. I look forward to watching him use his fancy
rifle.” Vin smirked and popped
earplugs into his ears. “First to fifty, Bucklin.” “You’re on, kid,” Buck
agreed, inserting his earplugs. He waited as Vin pulled Gerty into his shoulder, then the pair exchanged
a nod and began firing off their shots. Fifteen minutes and two
perfect scores later, the Em7 agents stood back and watched as the
second group stepped up to the mark. There was a din of voices
as the scores were discussed. Eight of the first twelve men had
hit the two inch target with one hundred percent accuracy. They
were the cream of the country’s military, security and law enforcement
agencies so while it was impressive, it was unsurprising. Vin watched Stutz with
interest. The sniper’s stance was relaxed, despite the weight of
his rifle. Vin knew Stutz would usually use a tripod and lie on
his stomach but he was standing today. No doubt he would take out the
tripod for the moving targets. ** At the end of the
stationary target shoot off, thirteen men were tied with 100% accuracy,
but once the targets started moving, things changed very quickly.
Buck pulled his earplugs
out with a disappointed series of curses. He knew he’d missed at
least six targets, but was also aware that those around him had faired
worse. The moving targets were much faster than anyone
anticipated and the numbers weren’t in the same order each round so the
element of anticipation was neutralized. Buck shook his head and then
glanced at Vin who looked calm. “You hit’ em all?” Vin’s chin bobbed. “Stupid question. Don’t
know what I was thinking.” The pair moved back to
allow the second set of shooters to prepare. Again, voices rose,
as all discussed the competition. **
Vin tore himself away from
the memory, ‘slamming the door.’ “No!” The word startled those
around him. Buck spun around, eyeing
his friend with concern. “Vin?” “Sorry… wasp,” he directed
at those staring at him. Exhaling slowly to calm himself, Vin
inclined his head and led Buck a few steps away from the crowd. Buck eyed his friend
curiously. “What’s up?” Vin drew his hand across
his mouth. “I just had a flashback of Kat.” Buck’s face twisted with
concern. Immediately, he yanked his phone from his pocket. “Relax, Buck,” Vin stated
quickly, forcing his over-protective friend’s arm down. “I
stopped the memory straight away.” “You sure you’re okay?”
Buck growled. “You aren’t a good colour,
but you haven’t been since you had the seizure earlier.” “I feel a bit washed out,
but I’m fine.” Buck frowned, but put his
phone away. “I’m not sure what
triggered the memory. I wasn’t thinking about Kat.” Buck pursed his
lips. “You just pulled off some incredible shooting Vin - something you did every day in Kat.
Do you think that could act as a trigger?” Vin nodded. “Maybe.”
Realizing they were attracting attention, Vin muttered, “Better watch
the others. Just ummm…” “I’ve got your back, Kid,”
Buck assured. ********* J.D. stepped inside the
building, pulling the door closed until there was a small crack to peer
through. This was the fourth building Ezra had ‘afforded himself
ingress’. So far he had found very few ‘articles of pertinent
knowledge for amalgamation into the streams of conscious reflection’
the team apparently had. The compound was now empty
as all competitors were watching the shooting or self-defense
activities so J.D. decided to keep watch from inside the
barracks. “Ezra, do you have any
idea what you’re looking for?” “I am confident I’ll know
it when I see it,” Ezra assured, sliding his hand under the pillow on
the top bunk. J.D. sighed.
Reaching out he opened the door of a cupboard just inside the door and…
leapt back startled! Ezra knocked Dunne
sideways, his revolver in his fist and aimed at the gun wielding man
hiding inside. “Dr. Livingstone, I
presume,” Ezra greeted in a deadly tone.
“I guess this is what you
call a standoff,” the man in the cupboard stated, his revolver held out
and unyielding. “Not from where we are
standing,” Ezra stated. “What are you doing in
here?” the cupboard dweller demanded. “It would appear the game
is up, Agent Dunne. Our attempt to plant our practical joke has been
uncovered.” There was no sign of levity. Ezra was ready to
pull the trigger. J.D. swallowed. He
had never stood face to face with a gun like this. The man in the cupboard
smiled. “Exactly the excuse I was going to give, Agent
Standish. Shall we drop the act and put our weapons away?” Ezra considered the
proposal and then slowly lowered his weapon. J.D. licked his lips
watching as the man in the cupboard did the same.
Only then did J.D. comply… knowing full well Ezra had a derringer up
his sleeve which could be launched in a split second. Ezra looked the man up and
down. “You have us at a disadvantage, Sir. It would appear you
know us. So, you would be…?” The man in the cupboard
stepped out. “Today, I’m Reece Flynn.” Ezra raised his right
eyebrow and smiled. “And last week?” Flynn offered his
hand. “Special Agent Shane Morrison. Internal
Affairs. I’m working undercover.” Morrison offered his hand
to J.D. “So, what are the two of you doing in here?” “To tell you would mean
being shot for treason,” Ezra stated. “And yourself?” Morrison’s was clearly
taken back by Ezra’s answer but responded with, “My partner was killed
a few months ago investigating an ATF team.” Ezra and J.D. exchanged a
glance. “Yes, I believe we read about that,” Ezra stated.
“Your partner was killed by an ATF agent… Hogan, I believe his name
was.” “Em7 is well
informed. Hogan was killed a few days ago in a hit and run.
My partner was on to something. Something big, but he died before
he could share it with me. His death was ruled an unfortunate
accident but that’s a load of crap. I convinced my boss to give me some
time to investigate. He gave me three months, but my time is up
in two weeks.” “And you’re undercover?”
J.D. asked. “My boss pulled some
strings and enabled me to join the FBI team so I could come to the
games.” “Who exactly are you
investigating?” Ezra asked, glancing out the
window to ensure no one was approaching. “Two former partners of
Hogan. Pete was sure all three were involved. He kept
saying something really big was going down but he didn’t know when and
he didn’t know what. When I found out Pete’s killer was killed a
couple of days before the games and his two old partners were
participating, I knew I had to be here.” Ezra nodded. “All
roads lead to Rome.” “Something like that.” “Names?” Ezra prompted. Morrison frowned. “Agent Morrison, you have
already broken cover with us.” Morrison nodded.
“Yeah, I guess I have. I’m investigating Grant Culbert and Wyatt Flannagan,
both former military and both in SWAT: STS.” ********** “Culbert,
do you understand?” Stains asked. Culbert glanced across at Larabee
as the Em7 Colonel walked out into the middle of the floor. “Yeah, I understand,
Sir.” A hush spread around the
gymnasium as Culbert rose and strode out
to join Larabee for the first of the semi-final bouts. Only four
men remained in the competition – Larabee, Sanchez, Culbert and a large soldier from the United
States Marine Corp. Stains sat forward in his
chair as Culbert and Larabee began to
circle. His team’s success depended on Culbert.
Stains flicked his gaze to Sanchez and then back to the bout. Larabee moved quickly,
hitting Culbert with a sequence of scoring
shots. Josiah and others
cheered. Most men were thrilled to be watching such high quality
athletes at the top of their field. Larabee scored again. Culbert’s gaze drifted to his
leader. Stains nodded. Grant Culbert
made his move. His left boot connected with Larabee’s lower
back. Larabee’s knees buckled, but he regained his feet quickly. Cries from the crowd
prompted the referee to step in. “Illegal blow. Keep
it clean.” “Chris?” Josiah called
from the side. Larabee raised his hand,
signally he was okay, but it was clear Sanchez was unimpressed. The pair circled
again. Larabee scored with another two shots. Two more and
the bout would be over. Stains bit down on his
bottom lip. “Come on, Culbert.
Quit fooling around,” he murmured. Culbert moved in, lashing out at
Larabee’s knee. The crowd gasped. Sanchez stepped onto the
floor. Before the referee could act, Culbert
spun around behind Larabee and followed up with a punch to the kidneys. Larabee went down… hitting
the mat hard. Cries of disgust burst from the crowd, many of whom
got to their feet, but all of this was drowned out by the unholy roar
from Sanchez who stampeded Culbert and
dropped the agent with a single jaw shattering punch to the face.
Stains smirked. “And
Mt. Vesuvius erupts. Objective achieved.” ********** The judges
conferred. Buck smiled at Stutz. Stutz eyed Vin. Vin sat on the grass
watching some birds in a nearby tree. “We have a tie,” the chief
judge announced. Vin drew his gaze to the judge. “Competitor’s 7 and 15
achieved perfect scores.” The crowd responded with
clapping. Vin rose, walked across to Stutz and shook his hand. “We have decided,” the
Judge continued, “to have a shoot off between these two men using the
moving targets.” Vin turned to him.
“Waste of time. I’m not going to miss under these conditions and
neither is he.” “Then maybe we change the
parameters of the task,” Buck suggested. “I mean, 200 feet?
For a real marksman that’s child’s play. How about a decent distance?” The chief judge glanced at
Vin and Stutz. Both nodded. “Then we move back.” Vin and Stutz turned and
started walking in the opposite direction. The other competitors
followed. Buck bounded up to stride at Vin’s shoulder. “Now we separate the men
from the boys,” Stutz remarked. Vin smirked. “You know, Stutz,” Buck
started, but he paused when Vin shot him a firm look. It was then
Buck realized this had moved passed a test of marksmanship and Buck
fell back in with the crowd. Stutz and Tanner were testing each
other on another level altogether. The two men continued to
walk… and walk… and walk. Stutz glanced back over his
shoulder. “If we keep going, we’ll be in the next state.” Vin turned, lifted Gerty and peered through the site. “Here’s fine
by me.” The crowd filed around and stood behind the pair. In the
distance… way in the distance… were the
targets. Stutz raised his
specialized sniper rife and checked the targets himself. Lowering
it, he nodded. “Works for me, too.” Buck glanced at Hardy who
winked. Hardy called out, “How about we make it really
interesting and remove technology? Get rid of the sophisticated
rifles and both of you use mine. It’s a basic rifle with a
sight.” He handed his rifle to Stutz as Buck removed the
professional sniper’s weapon before he could comment. Stutz’s face
shadowed. Vin shrugged. “Fine
by me.” Stutz stared at Vin.
A clash of wills. Finally he shook his head. “This distance,
using this piece of crap, moving targets… even someone as good as I am
would be lucky to hit 30%. Tanner?” Clearly, Stutz was
looking for his opponent to support him… a form of bonding. Vin’s face remained blank.
“I can see the targets,” he stated simply. The bonding fell flat and
the challenge issued. Stutz glared at Vin and
then smiled. “Then let the competition begin. Ten shots?” Vin shrugged and watched
Stutz prepare himself. Finally the SWAT sniper nodded to the
judge who started the targets moving. Stutz fired off his shots
slowly, taking his time between each. “Six out of ten,” the
judge announced. Stutz smiled with
satisfaction, walked back to Vin. “If you hit more than that,
Tanner, I’ll come to dinner tonight naked.” Buck stepped between the
two men, thrusting his chest out and shaking his head in apparent
disgust. “Don’t scare him, Stutz. Sheesh.”
Buck spun to Vin. “It’s okay, kid. If you get 100%, I’ll
make sure no one shows up in their birthday suit.” Vin smirked at Buck’s
antics and then the smile slipped from his face. “Vin?” Buck asked. Vin’s frown
intensified. Chris? **********
“Sergeant!” Chris
called. He nodded to those who had helped him to his feet and
shouted at the struggling crowd, “let him go.” “He’ll kill him,” someone
cried. “Let him go,” Chris
snarled. The multitude restraining
Josiah stepped away. Josiah shot forward. Chris intercepted
him. “Stand down, Sergeant.” Larabee’s tone was firm. Josiah’s chest
heaved. “HE TARGETED YOU!” “You’ve already dealt with
it,” Chris stated calmly, glancing at Culbert
who was seated on the mat rubbing his jaw.
Josiah drew in a deep
breath. “Yes, Sir.” His body shuddered as the anger began to
drain. “You okay?” “I’ll get Nathan to have a
look when he gets back.” Josiah glared passed Chris
and pointed a finger the size of a salami
at Culbert. “You come within ten
feet of any member of my team and I’ll tear your arms off.” It
was no idle threat. The chief judge, who had
been summoned following an earlier incident, approached Chris
tentatively. “Colonel Larabee, while I understand you were the
recipient of an illegal blow, your sergeant struck another
competitor. Our rules state clearly that in that event all of the
team’s accumulated points are removed. I’m sorry.” Chris nodded and turned
toward Stains, a lethal smile spreading across Larabee’s face. It
was clear Stains had orchestrated the blows knowing Josiah would defend
his fallen colonel. “I’m sorry, Sir,” Josiah
murmured. “We were played,” Chris
explained. Josiah frowned and glared
at Stains. “Damn him.” At that moment, a member
of the Elite Squad Commandos raced in and shouted, “Shoot off between
Stutz and Tanner!” |
|
Part Seventeen Vin?” “For a moment I...”
Vin shook his head to clear it. Stutz reloaded Hardy’s
rifle and handed it to Tanner. “Let’s see what you can do with this
piece of crap, Tanner.” Out of the corner of his
eye, Vin spotted Ezra and J.D. arrive among
the incoming mob. “The word’s out.
Looks like you’ve got an audience, Vin,” Buck stated. He nodded
to Chris and Josiah who appeared through the crowd. “You okay?” Vin asked. “Yeah,” Chris
assured. “Couple of bruises. You’re not a good colour.” “Had a seizure earlier… not that one. And a few flashes from
Afghanistan.” Chris’ right eyebrow
peaked. “I remember Hardy
now. We served together in Afghanistan. Nothing there I
want to remember so I simply blocked them.” Chris patted his friend’s
back and then winked. “Better get this show on the road, then.” “Show’s the right word for
it,” Vin grumbled, noting that almost every competitor was now
present. Chris looked at the
simple rifle Vin held. “Where’s Gerty?” “One of the conditions was
using the same basic rifle.” Chris pursed his
lips. “We can call off this façade. We’ve lost all of our
points anyway.” J.D. looked horrified and
Ezra shocked. “Sir?” Chris glanced at Josiah
who sheepishly admitted, “I lost my temper.” “You struck another
competitor which results in immediate loss of accumulated points,” Ezra
guessed. “Stains had one of his men
target my kidneys. He knew exactly how Josiah would react after
what happened in Katinda.” “Are you okay, Colonel?” “A little sore.” Buck ground his jaw.
“Stains and I need to have a chat.” “Calm down, Buck.
I’ll have a few words with Stains later,” Chris assured. “Not good enough,
Chris. He crossed the line…again. “ “Stand down, Captain,”
Larabee ordered. Noting the looks of rage on all of his men’s
faces, Chris growled, “All of you. Stand down.” Vin shook his head
slowly. “He ordered an attack on you, Sir. This is the
second time.” Chris nodded
thoughtfully. “True, but I’m fine. I said stand down.
I meant it.” “Nathan’s getting the
ingredients for our practical joke?” Vin asked thoughtfully, an idea
birthing. “Yeah. Xylioa flower. Turns urine fluorescent
pink,” Josiah offered. “He’s going to add it to everyone’s drinks
tonight.” “I think Stains deserves a
real lesson,” Buck growled, appearing to catch on to Vin’s
unspoken suggestion. Josiah’s brow furrowed in
confusion and then his eyes widened. “Vendalin?” Buck nodded.
“Perfect. I’ll call Nathan.” “And I better get us some
points so Ezra doesn’t lose all the money he’s bet on us to win the
Games,” Vin stated. Ezra smirked, the rage the
men felt at the unprovoked attack of this leader slowly dissipating. “I
have no knowledge of what you are referring to…. though if we win this
event, the orienteering tonight and the team event which has double
points, we are still in the game.” One of the judges
impatiently cleared his throat. “Sorry about the delay,
ladies and gentlemen. A small team meeting to discuss ordering
out for supper,” Ezra announced and he and the others withdrew. Moment’s later silence
descended over the range. “What’s he doing?” J.D.
whispered to Ezra as Vin took one of the bullets out of the rifle and
examined it. “Different brands of
bullets use different amounts of lead, powder and wadding. Even a
slight difference can change the way a bullet acts. A
professional like Vin would know the differences just by the brand name
and other minute factors.” Vin replaced the bullet
and like Stutz before him, cracked off a shot at the stationary targets. “Ezra?” J.D. asked
curiously. “It’s not his
weapon. He’s checking the sight and getting a feel for the rifle.” Then, Vin turned and gazed
off to the right… standing stock still. “Ez…” “He’s studying the
wind. As soon as it drops he’ll take the shot,” Ezra whispered. The seconds ticked by… the
tension built. “Ready,” Vin called,
snapping the rifle up. The targets started moving and Vin fired
off ten shots in quick succession. There was a crescendo of
voices after the last shot, everyone commenting. The chief judge spoke into
his walkie-talkie and then turned to the waiting spectators who became
silent. “Ten out of ten.” For a moment there was no
reaction and then cheering erupted. Stutz’s eyes widened with
rage. He glared at Vin who started toward him, hand
extended. Stutz spun around and stormed off. Vin shook his head
sadly. “Not your fault he’s a
sore loser, Vin,” Buck assured. “A sniper must be
realistic about his ability. Stutz just discovered he isn’t as
good as he thought. Shots he knew impossible for himself, he
wrongly believed were impossible for all,” Josiah preached
softly. Vin sighed. “He’s a
good a sniper. He shouldn’t judge himself based on an artificial
test like this.” Josiah smiled at his young
friend. “You’ve a good heart, Vin Tanner.” Vin scowled and walked
away to return Hardy’s rifle… and was promptly mobbed. Nearby, Ezra heard a man
say, “See, I told you. Tanner’s the bastard son of Clint Eastwood
and Yoda!” Standish smiled. “I
have always suspected it.” ********** The late afternoon
seminars were boring, though even Chris enjoyed Josiah’s talk on
crows. Some fool had invited the bomb expert to talk but hadn’t
specified a topic and so Josiah had enthralled the crowd with metaphors
and signs of impending doom, much to Ezra’s great embarrassment. An hour later, the
barracks were quiet. Vin and Ezra were in their bunks resting on
Chris’ orders. They were to contest the midnight
orienteering. It was to be Vin and Buck, but Buck was still fired
up and Chris didn’t want to place him in temptation’s way. Rumor
was Stains was going to compete in the orienteering himself. Buck
in the dark with access to Stains… a recipe for disaster. Ezra rolled onto his side
and glanced at Vin whose deep breathing echoed in the late afternoon. “He astounds me.” Chris, who was seated on
the floor cleaning his revolver, glanced up at his friend. “Why?” “You tell him to sleep and
he drifts into the world of nod instantly.” Chris lowered his gaze to
his weapon. “Practice. In Kat.,
we grabbed sleep when we could. You learned to sleep on a
moment’s notice.” “I see. Colonel, I
too took offence at Stains targeting you, but I sense something deeper
in the former members of the STF1. A reference to ‘again’ and ‘second
time.’ This has happened before?” “I told you we had a run
in with Stains in Kat.” Ezra nodded. “You
broke a doctor out of his custody.” “Following it, Stains had
a few of his MP’s attempt to arrest me. Six to one. I ended
up the worse for it. The boys arrived just as I was about to be
dragged off. Needless to, they made their point with the men
there, but Stains kept his distance.” “But the arrest and
beating were conducted on his orders,” Ezra murmured. “The boys have long
memories.” “As do I now. This
explains why Buck’s rage is only just barely contained.” “Get some rest.” “A skill I am yet to
master on a word’s notice, Sir. I take it Buck and Nathan are putting our ‘practical joke’ in motion?” Chris nodded.
“Nathan will keep Buck under control.” ********** Buck called together a
number of other teams and sat them down outside the showers once the
SWAT: STS team went inside. In a hushed voice, Buck
stated, “While the rest of you have chosen the usual pathetic practical
jokes like rotten egg gas, itching powder, syrup in shoes etc, none of
you hold a candle to what is about to unfold. Just so you know, we
hadn’t intended doing this, but Stains crossed the line when he had one
of his men attack our Colonel… for a second time.” There were murmurs from
the group. “Nathan,” Buck prompted. “Vendalin
is a rare but potent herb found in the northern region of
Iceland. One isolated tribe used it in their ceremony to appoint
their new chieftain. Vendalin is a
totally tasteless and harmless herb but it has a temporary, but
spectacular effect on the human body. It causes…” He
paused, searching for the right word. “Shrinkage,” Buck
offered. Noting the quizzical looks from the collected
spectators, Buck flicked his gaze to his groin. “Temporary,
painless, shrinkage.” Eyes widened. Abruptly there was a cry
from the showers, followed by yelling. Buck beamed. “I’d
give that an eight out of ten for terror.” SWAT officer Dale Page
ripped the door open, wildly looking around. “We need a doct…” The collected men burst
out laughing. Page’s mouth dropped open as realization emerged. “Tell Stains he’s damn
lucky our Colonel ordered us to stand down. The lily-livered
coward’s ‘equipment’ will return to normal within the hour.”
Buck paused and his voice lowered to a deadly snarl. “However, if
he ever lays a hand on or initiates another attack on Larabee, I swear
I’ll do some permanent damage.” Page spun around and
disappeared inside, slamming the door behind him. Moments later a
roar of rage echoed from the building. Buck winked at Nathan with
satisfaction. “Now that, I’d give a 10.” ********* Again, Em7 chose to eat in
the barracks. The building was in darkness apart from the kerosene lamp
and the light from J.D.’s laptop screen. The men were seated on the
floor in a circle. Chris put his empty plate
on the ground. “Okay, let’s run our suspects. J.D.” Dunne took another
mouthful of food and then lifted his laptop onto his lap. “Suspect
One: Troy Hogan. ATF Agent. Former Army
sergeant. Was being investigated by Internal affairs until he
‘accidently’ killed undercover IA agent Pete Glover. Ruled an
accident. Hogan was present when the assassin who was carrying
the note “Assassinate No. 1 at Bravo – 6th’ was
killed. He himself was killed in a hit and run accident three
days ago.”
“Sounds
as guilty as hell,” Buck murmured. “Suspects
2 and 3: Grant Culbert and Wyatt Flannagan. Former Army and civilian
partners of Hogan. They worked overseas as security consultants with
Hogan. Present members of SWAT: STS. Identified by Pete
Glover as involved in something ‘big’.” “Doesn’t
get much bigger than assassinating the President,” Nathan agreed. “Culbert and Flannagan
have clear links to Hogan.” “They
sound as guilty as hell,” Buck growled. Vin
smirked at Chris. “Has
anyone seen Flannagan?” Ezra asked. The men
shook their heads. “We’ll
need to identify him,” Chris agreed. “Go on, J.D.” “Suspect
4: Zachary Stutz - a renowned sniper. Father was a paid
assassin. He has the ability, personality and the opportunity to be the
assassin. But, he packed up his gear and left the compound within
minutes of Vin beating him in the shooting competition.” “The
question is, did he always intend to do so?”
Josiah reflected. “You
mean, prepare for the assassination tomorrow?” Josiah
nodded. “He has a pass to get in as a competitor and could slip
in tomorrow unnoticed.” “He’s
linked to Culbert and Flannagan
because he is in the same unit - SWAT:
STS. Buck’s
moustache twitched. “Yep, sounds guilty to me.” Chris
winked at Vin. “Suspect
5: Melissa Hilford. NSA.
Several years ago was present at an exchange involving a South African
terrorist group known to have put out a hit on the President.
No known link to suspects 1, 2, 3 or 4.” All
turned to Buck to wait pronouncement of guilt. “Hey, she sounds
okay.” Ezra
shook his head in disgust. “And said judgment was made based on
the length of her skirt, no doubt.” “She
does have good legs,” Buck agreed with a lecherous grin. “Suspect
6:” J.D. continued, his face shadowing with disappointment.
“Michael ‘Mickey Mouse’ Boyle. CIA tech. Seen with Hilford on two occasions. And, he
deposited $120 000 in cash into his bank account last week.” “Any
idea what the money was for?” Chris inquired. J.D.
shook his head. “It was cash.” “The
root of all evil,” Josiah preached. “Mickey’s
linked to suspect 5 but not to 1, 2, 3 or 4.” Buck
looked at J.D. with great sympathy. “Sorry, kid. I know he’s a
friend, but he looks as guilty as sin.” “I
know. That’s all we have, Sir.” J.D. informed his leader. Chris
nodded. “Two sets of suspects that don’t appear to be
linked. Can we link them?” “If we
assume they are linked, I understand how all of them fit into the
picture apart from J.D.’s friend. He’s a computer tech.
What role would he play in an assassination?” All eyes
turned to J.D. “Well, Josiah said that these terrorists are
trying to make a statement and that they want it on television.
Mickey can hack into a number of satellites and networks and ensure the
assassination is shown on every channel in the country… even
internationally. Also, he could jam all outgoing calls so no ambulance
or back up could be called following the assassination.” “Oookay,” Buck agreed. “That it explains
it.” “We
still haven’t linked Hilford and Mickey to
the other four,” Chris argued. “Two distinct teams.” “You
think it’s one or the other?” Vin asked. Chris
nodded. “But
which one? Hogan, Culbert, Flannagan and Stutz get my vote,” Nathan stated. “Meaning
the meetings between Hilford and Mickey
are innocent and coincidental? What about the $120 000?” Ezra
asked. “I say
we round all of them up tonight,” Buck suggested. “On what
grounds? We have not a single piece of evidence against them.
None of them ordered the hit,” Ezra pointed out. “Let us be
realistic. While we want to prevent the President from being
assassinated, we must also identify and capture the person or person’s
responsible for hiring the assassin. If we take away his
instruments, he will simply wait until another time, perhaps without
any forewarning.” “We
can’t just sit here and do nothing,” Buck complained. Ezra
turned to Chris. “I have an idea, Sir. It will require
patience on our part, but I believe it will give us the best chance of
catching those who instigated the hit.” “Go on,
Ezra. This is your ballgame.” “I have
some business to take care of,” Buck stated rising. “Buck?”
Chris growled. “I told you to leave Stains to me.” “Not
Stains, Sir. Hilford… and Angie… and
Colleen…. and…” “We get
the picture,” Nathan chuckled. “Naturally you’re meeting with
these young ladies to further our investigation?” “Naturally,”
Buck stated, bouncing his eyebrows. With that, he strode from the
building. Chris
shook his head and then turned back to Ezra. “Go on.” ******** An hour
later as the men sat playing cards to clear their heads, Buck burst
back into the barracks. “Boys,
I’ve got some information. Flannagan
isn’t here. He’s a member of SWAT: STS but took leave about three
weeks ago.” “He’s
their man on the outside,” Ezra mused. “No doubt he was to enter
Dustin Stadium with the public or as a member of the entertainment,
caters etc.” “Then
he’s out of luck,” J.D. stated. “The stadium’s locked down.” “That’s
not all,” Buck announced. “Do you know what country Hogan, Flannagan and Culbert
worked freelance security? Ablerstein.
They worked as advisors to the government security forces.” Vin
could see the country meant something to his colleagues. Noting
his frown, Chris explained. “We destroyed some nuclear missiles
there about nine months ago. The dictator in Ablerstein
could be behind this.” “He has
an intense hatred of America and enough money to pay a high quality
assassination team.” “So Flannagan took leave three weeks ago,” Vin
mused. “J.D., can you check and see if any of our other suspects
have leave coming up? J.D.’s
fingers flew across the keyboard. “Culbert
and Hogan were taking leave as of Monday. Stutz, no. Hilford… no.
Mickey… no.” “Check
all outgoing flights for any of their names.” The boys
waited. The minutes ticked by. “No.” “They
probably booked using aliases. The fact that they are confident
enough to request leave means they don’t believe they will be caught.” “Hang
on,” J.D. murmured… and again he began typing furiously. “Kid?”
Buck asked. “Most
people book flights on-line these days and most people leave their
computers plugged in. It may take me a while, but I’ll try to
hack into all suspects’ home computers and see if I can find any data
relating to flight bookings.” “You’re
a genius, kid,” Buck stated proudly.
|
|
Part Eighteen Chris watched Vin and Ezra
jog off with the other men participating in the midnight
orienteering. Stains wasn’t
competing, but he too had come to see his men off. As he started
to walk away, Chris called out to him. Stains turned and
waited. “Go to hell, Larabee.” Chris took out his
badge. “Hose down the testosterone, Stains. This is
official.” “Crap.” Chris’ gaze
hardened. “You’re a damn asshole. Lucky I know you’re loyal
to this country otherwise I’d have you shot on the spot.” Stains glared, but his
face twitched with uncertainty. “Involved in what? I knew there
was a reason Em7 was here. What’s going on?” “I can’t tell you, but I
need to know about Clubert, Flannagan and Stutz.” Stains shook his head
slowly in a mixture of disbelief and anger. “You’re asking me to
betray three of my men?” “If what we believe is
going on, they’ve already betrayed you.” Stains walked away from
Chris, stopped, stared into the darkness and swore long and loud.
When the outburst echoed out, he asked softly, “What do you want to
know?” Chris circled around to
face him. “Anything that seems strange or unusual about them. How
long have they been with your team?” “Stutz joined us about
seven months ago. Culbert and Flannagan about six.” “How well do you know
them?” Stains shrugged. “Culbert and Flannagan
are regular ex-military. We’re not friends exactly… you know how
it is. Can’t afford to get too close. Stutz is a
loner. Basically I don’t know him at all. Don’t want to. Look, if
you tell me…” “Do you know where Stutz
went this afternoon?” “No. Collected his
gear and took off. When I get my hands on him, I’ll beat the shit
out of him.” Stains cursed again. “Culbert’s
missing too.” Chris frowned.
“When?” “Some time after the
self-defense.” “Josiah threatened
him. He the type to run?” Stains shook his
head. “I wouldn’t have said so. Larabee, what the hell is
going on? Two of my men go AWOL on me and I’m being interrogated
by you? I deserve an explanation.” “Flannagan
took leave three weeks ago?” “Yeah, a family
matter. His father’s dying of cancer.” “According to our records,
his father died of cancer sixteen years ago.” Stains clamped his jaw
shut, his eyes flashing his sense of betrayal. “Bastard lied to
me.” “Dunne discovered that a
man connected to Culbert and Flannagan booked three seats out of the country
for tomorrow night. He used aliases but we’re certain it was for
them. What we’ve discussed has to remain between us for now.”
Chris offered his hand. Stains stared down at it
and then took the proffered fist. “Alright, Larabee. I hate your
guts, but we’re on the same side. Clearly whatever this is, it’s going
to go down at the games. If your men need back up, you only have
to ask. I may not be able to guarantee the loyalty of my men, but
you have mine.” Chris nodded.
“Thanks. A word of warning. My men follow orders. If
I hadn’t ordered them to stand down today, you’d be in the
hospital. Bear that in mind because there can’t be a next time.” With that, Chris turned
and headed back toward the barracks. “Wings, we’re leaving.” Stains watched Buck
Wilmington melt out of the darkness where he’d been standing watching
Larabee’s back. Wilmington paused and glared, murmuring,
“Pee-wee” and then dutifully fell into step beside his leader. ********** The sun was only just
peeping over the horizon when Em7 left the barracks and made their way
across the compound to where the final event of the games was to be
held. The men of Em7 were on edge, though few would know
it. Outward appearances can be deceiving, but all were counting
down the hours until the closing ceremony which was ten hours away. Ezra stifled a yawn.
“This is inhuman. I only went to bed three hours ago.” Vin gazed at the colored
sky, Gerty slung over his shoulder.
“Best time of the day.” Ezra snorted and adjusted
his grip of the pack he and Nathan were carrying between them. It
contained the team’s headsets and other equipment. “At least our
late night was not in vain. Our first place keeps us in the hunt.” “And you on track to make
thousands from that book you’re running.” Ezra smiled
good-naturedly. “True. Betting swung against Em7 yesterday
and I’ve taken dozens of new wagers. If we win, I do believe I
will make a metaphoric killing. However, there is a great deal
more at stake then a few coins.” The others eyed him
curiously as they arrived and dumped their gear. “We have authority over
all of our law, security and military counterparts. That does not
sit well in some sectors.” The levity was gone, the betting
forgotten. “Imagine the ammunition we will be giving them
if we don’t win… if we aren’t proved the best here today.” “Ezra, these games are a
load of crap,” Vin pointed out, sitting down and laying his rifle
across his knees. “Big difference between standing shooting at targets
in the sunshine with friends around you and being soaked to the skin
behind enemy lines with bombs dropping.” “I could not agree more,
but we are talking about perceptions, not reality. Rightly or
wrongly, the winner of the Bravo Games is held up as ‘the best’.
Do we really want to arrive at a situation only to find resistance to
us taking over because… ‘you only placed
third at the Bravo Games and we placed second’? Josiah, a little
support please?” “He’s right,” Josiah
agreed thoughtfully, joining the others on the grass. “It may be a
useless title, but a title it is and it will affect others’
perceptions. While we can say to hell with it, less resistance is
always better than more.” Thoughtful frowns creased
the faces of all members of Em7. Finally Chris nodded.
“Besides, it’ll give us a chance to use up this adrenaline. I
need to be doing something. This waiting is…” “Excruciating,” Ezra
agreed. “Playing to win will certainly occupy us.” “Where do we need to place
in this activity to win the games?” “Our loss of points
yesterday was a definite set back. Fortunately this event has double
points. Unfortunately, we must place first and at least two
places ahead of SWAT: STS and Air Intelligence. Achieving second
in this event will leave us with, at most, equal third overall.” “Then we’ve got to win,”
Buck declared. “Good. I need something to get my teeth
into.” They were all feeling the tension and being active would
be a blessing. They could ride the adrenaline high right into the
closing ceremony. “How does this team event
work?” J.D. asked, watching as other teams began to collect. “Same as the
self-defense. There’s a draw. Two teams compete against
each other. Loser is eliminated. Competition continues
until there are only two teams left and they battle it out in the
final.” “Yeah, but what do we
actually have to do?” Josiah handed the younger
man a map. “See the cabin marked? One team has to defend it
and the other attack it.” “How do you know if we’re
defending or attacking?” “Pulled out of a
hat. Guns are loaded with paint pellets.” Chris took the map and
placed it on the grass in the center of the circle formed by his
men. “So we need to win three rounds to progress to the final.
Statistically then, we should end up with at least one offence and one
defense.” “Defense is easy,” Vin
murmured. Chris nodded. “We
defend the cabin from outside. Stop them before they reach
it. Josiah, we’ll station you inside in case anyone breaks though
our net.” “Yes, Sir.” “Offence is harder and
we’ll likely need more than one strategy to take the cabin from those
defending it.” “A new one each time,”
Ezra agreed. Responses were snapped quickly as the men of “I’m guessing lobbing a
few grenades in there is out of the question?” Josiah asked Chris grinned.
“Afraid so. No bombs either. We aren’t allowed to put holes
in anyone.” “But we could make it
sound as if we were throwing grenades,” J.D. mused, flicking his gaze
to the base loudspeaker. “I could hack into that and make it
sound as if World War Three has begun.” “I like it,” Ezra praised. “That’s one,” Chris
agreed. “A second.” “I was stationed here at Enoggera before I went to Katinda,”
Nathan stated. “If my memory serves me correctly…” ********** Round One – Defense. The operative from the FBI
crouched low, moving nosily through the bush. “Freeze.” The man looked around
wildly, searching for the speaker. All he could see were trees. “Drop your weapon and put
your hands behind your head or I’ll shoot you with this paint gun and
it’ll sting like hell.” The FBI agent sighed,
lowered his weapon and lay on his stomach. A blur darted out of the
trees, took form and nodded. “You’re supposed to be
defending the cabin,” the prone man complained. “If you don’t reach it,
you can’t take it from us. You’ve just been killed, by the
way.” Into his headset he announced. “TWO: It’s the
FBI so a team of fourteen. One down.” With a wink, the long
haired soldier darted off as silently as he’d appeared. ** Nathan watched his quarry
close in. As he passed, Jackson dived, rolled, came up behind the
man and placed the rubber bladed knife to the man’s throat. “Throat’s cut,
friend. You’re out… THREE: That’s two down.” ** Buck studied the
trio. With an amused smirk, he fired three times. Bright
green paint pellets exploded on their vests. The three men swore
loudly. Buck grinned. “WINGS:
Bagged a trio. That’s five.” **
As he moved off, he heard
further reports. “SIX: I got
one, boys! That’s eight.” Chris smiled at J.D.’s
excited outburst. “Stay focused, SIX.” “FIVE: Three little kittens have
lost their mittens. That’s eleven.” No sooner had Ezra
reported when Vin announced, “TWO: Another
two. That’s thirteen.” “Be on the look out, FOUR.
I’m guessing a squirrel has got through our net.” “Already have a visual on
the lost sheep, Sir.” Chris heard a shot. “FOUR: Target
neutralized. That’s fourteen of fourteen.” “Stand down, boys,” Chris
ordered with satisfaction. “Looks like we progress to the next
round.” ********* Round Two – Offense Em7 encircled the
cabin. They had taken out the five men left outside as a ring of
defense. Now, they just needed to take the seven inside. J.D. nodded to his
colonel. All was ready. “Inside the cabin,”
Larabee bellowed. “You have to the count of five to vacate before
we start lobbing grenades in there.” For a moment there was
silence and then a disembodied voice shouted. “Who are you
kidding, Larabee. You won’t throw any grenades.” “Em7 is not governed by
the same laws you are, Stains. Taking survivors isn’t a priority
for us. This is war and we want to win today.
Five…Four… Three…Two…” “You’re full of it,
Larabee!” “One… Throw’ em, boys!” J.D. hit enter on his
laptop. Immediately, via the powerful PA system, a grenade exploded, the noise deafening. Smoke rose from
the smoke bomb Josiah set off. “Jesus Christ!” Two more ‘grenades’
exploded… and SWAT: STS raced out of the cabin with their hands in the
air, screaming, “Hold your fire!” “You crazy bastard,
Larabee! You’re not supposed to be using live ammo!” Stains
screamed. Chris smiled. “We’re
not.” “Just a very loud
recording of grenades going off,” J.D. explained,
high-fiving Buck. Stains and his men lowered
their hands, their jaws dropping open. “And we move into round
three leaving both SWAT and Air Intelligence in our wake,” Ezra stated
happily. ********** Round Three – Offense “Defense would have been
easier,” Vin whispered as he and Buck crawled on their bellies. “Tell me about it.” “TWO?” Larabee
demanded over the headset. “Not yet. Can’t be
much further, Sir. Have the Marines gone into the cabin yet?” “No. They’re
standing outside smoking, waiting for the whistle to start the
activity.” Vin stopped
crawling. “We’ve made it.” “Good luck.” ** “There’s the whistle,” the
Marine Colonel stated. “Toner, take your men and spread out around the
cabin. I don’t want Em7 getting anywhere near it. The rest
of you, inside with me.” Through his binoculars,
Chris watched the marines enter the cabin. His chest tightened in
anticipation. Abruptly there was a
series of muffled shots from inside. “TWO: Cabin
secured, Sir. WINGs took a paint splotch to the left arm but he’ll
live.” “You should see their
faces, boys,” Buck laughed. “Reckon one of them wet himself when
Vin and I burst up out of the floor.” Chris smiled. Nathan
remembering the tunnel coming up inside the cabin had proved
invaluable. Now Em7 just had to round up the marines in the bush. “FOUR: Got
two.”
“THREE: Got
one. That’s leaves five.” Over the next three
minutes, Em7 picked off the marines. “FIVE: Like
shooting ducks in a barrel,” Ezra chucked. “Just shot the last
one.” “Stand down, boys. We’re
clear… and we’re into the final.” ********** Lunch was a distracting
affair as Em7’s focus was divided between the team competition final,
and the closing ceremony which was in less than four hours. The
only highlight was when the unofficial winner of the practical joke
competition was announced. Nathan blushed beautifully, and even
Stains cracked a smile. There was a minor hiccup
when Buck stood and asked who had set up the car battery that had sent
J.D. crashing, but Chris anticipated Buck’s next move and ordered him
to take his seat. Mickey stopped next to
Em7’s table, nodded politely to Chris and then smiled at J.D.
“Reckon we better say our goodbye’s now, J.D. Once the final’s
over, it’ll be the closing ceremony and then… well, I’m leaving the
CIA.” “Oh?” Ezra asked.
“Taking a holiday?” The young man shook his
head. “No. I’m going to work for Space Age Toys Inc.
They approached me a few months ago. It’s a six figure sum.
They sent me a tempter - $120
000. I couldn’t turn it down.” The smile slowly slipped
from Mickey’s face when he noted the serious looks from Em7. “Is
something wrong?” “We had heard that the NSA
was offering you a position,” Ezra fished. Mickey nodded.
“Yeah. Agent Hilford put the squeeze
on me here too. They won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. I finally
told her I’d signed a contract.” J.D. smiled. “That’s
great, Mickey. I’m really pleased for you.” “You know, there’s room
for you too. They’ve asked me to recruit another tech. We could
work together again. It would be fun. And hey, six figure
sum.” “Now might be a good time
for you to leave, Agent Boyle. Colonel Larabee has metaphoric
smoke coming from his ears,” Ezra commented. Mickey’s face drained of colour. Chris smirked.
“Relax son.” Mickey glanced at J.D. and
noted all of the men were smiling. “Not fair. I thought you
were serious. Would you consider it, J.D.?” “Mickey, I’ve found my
place.” J.D. flicked his gaze to Chris. “Good, because I’m not
changing the stationary and badge back to E.M.6,” Chris murmured. Mickey and J.D. shook
hands again and Mickey departed. “I do believe that is
relief on your face, Agent Dunne.” J.D. grinned. “It
is. I knew Mickey was clean but… it sure looked bad there for a
while.” ********* “I know we agreed to
Ezra’s plan, but just sitting back and waiting like this…” Vin murmured
as the group re-collected for the final against the Elite Squad
Commandos. The Commandos and half of the other teams had boarded
buses and gone east. Em7 and the other competitors, west. “Just heard we’re using
vests and live ammo this time,” Buck told his team as they exited the
bus and waited for the officials and other teams to disembark.
“Should make life interesting.” J.D. frowned.
“Sounds dangerous.” “Nahh.
The commandos will be good shots. Besides, you’re disqualified if
you really kill anyone.” “Not funny, Buck.” “Kid, you’ll be
fine. If you get hit, it’ll hurt like hell, but the vest will
protect you. You don’t think Chris would let us do anything dangerous,
do you?” Buck teased. J.D. glanced at his
colonel who was chuckling with Vin. “Looks like Chris is looking forward to it.” Buck smiled.
“Yep. We’ve been cooped up playing games for too long. Real
ammo brings out the best in Chris.” “Gentlemen,” the
organizing committee president announced. He had come with Em7
and was communicating with the Commandos via a walkie-talkie. “Congratulations to both
teams. The team event this year did lend itself to the military
so I suppose it is unsurprising to have two of our very best military
squads in the final.” Buck turned to J.D. and
bounced his eyebrows. Ezra made a disgusted
sound in the back of his throat. “That anyone would consider us
solely military is an embarrassment.” Chris winked at him. “Your flags are flying
high to show your base camp.” Ezra lifted his gaze, his
disgust forgotten. He beamed at the Em7 flag he had designed,
hastily had made overnight and delivered that morning. While it
had been prepared for the closing ceremony Ezra couldn’t help feeling a
twinge of pride seeing it flying proudly overhead. Buck thumped Ezra’s
back. “Looks good, Ez.” Matherson, the committee president,
continued. “Being handed to you now is a map of this area.” Chris accepted it and his
team crowded around him. “Marked on the map is the
location of the Em7 and ESC base camps… where you are now. As you
can see, each home base is located at the top of a hill. The area
between you is a two kilometer valley. The valley is, for want of
another word, booby-trapped. You can expect snares, covered pits
and dummy land mines. If a man is snared or falls into a two foot
deep pit, he is considered captured. Stand on a land mine and
you’ll be covered in dye and considered dead. Both outcomes mean
you are to take no further part in the competition.” J.D. swallowed
nervously. “Relax. You’ve
already stood on one and survived to tell the tale,” Buck whispered. “Your objective is to
protect your own camp and take your opponent’s. You will now be
given five minutes to plan your assault. After that, each team
may ask one question and then you will have two minutes to prepare
whatever equipment you need. Good luck to both teams. Your
time starts now.” Chris crouched, his men
following his lead. “Split in two. Offensive and defensive
teams. Ezra, J.D. and I will take defense.” The men nodded, J.D.
sighing in relief. Leaving the two least experienced in this type of
combat to remain and defend their base made sense. “Vin, you’ll lead the
offence.” “We’ll take out their
offence and then move on to the commando base,” Vin agreed. “Of
course, it may actually be easier for just one man to slip through to
the camp.” He rose, collected two sets of binoculars and handed one set
to Chris. Shoulder to shoulder the pair zeroed in on the Commando
camp as the rest of the boys collected around them. “Incline doesn’t
look too steep,” Vin murmured. “Good tree cover for one
man. Buck would be best, if you cover him,” Chris agreed. “Means Josiah and Nathan
will be a second wave if necessary,” Ezra mused. “Guess it depends what
they mean by ‘take their camp’. May need more than one,” Nathan
pointed out. Chris held his hand out to
the side and waved to the Commando Major who had a set of binoculars
and was studying the Em7 camp. “Are they watching us?”
Buck asked. Immediately he began doing a war dance, then spun around and…” “Freeze! Captain
Wilmington, keep your derriere in your trousers. I have not heard
the Stripper music begin. Until it does…” The Stripper music
echoed. Ezra shot a look at J.D. who immediately shut his laptop
and blinked innocently. “If we take out…what the…”
Vin cried. “What?” “Colonel, the commando
four from the right. That’s Luke Klein!” Buck, Josiah and Nathan
stiffened. “And Klein is?” Ezra asked
with concern. Vin lowered his
binoculars. “Corporal Luke Klein is a Hawk.” |
|
Part Nineteen “A Hawk?” J.D.
cried. “Then we’ve been looking for the wrong assassins.
The Hawks took the contract.” “No,” Chris disagreed,
turning to face the others. “Kane’s a lot of things, but this
isn’t his style. He has his own code. This doesn’t fit.” “Colonel, I understand
that you and Kane have a rather ‘strange’ friendship, but…” Ezra
started. “Kane and I aren’t
friends, but we do understand each other. He wouldn’t take this
sort of assignment… for a number of reasons, not the least of which is,
Kane wouldn’t want an audience and whoever’s behind this has gone out
of their way to have one. The Hawks move in, complete their mission and
move out again. Besides, this type of assignment brings him onto
our radar and Kane doesn’t want war with us. He proved that when he
released Vin the moment he found out there was no longer a contract.” “So why is there a Hawk
here?” J.D. asked. “Former Hawk,” Josiah
corrected. “Klein finished his tour of duty and returned home to
marry his fiancée. They have three kids.” “And you know this
because…?” Ezra asked. “Because when the Hawks
came onto our radar a few months ago, Chris insisted I become an expert
on them.” “Time,” the official
announced. “Commandos, you have one question.” He listened
and then responded. “Colonel, Larabee?” “What exactly do you
consider evidence we’ve taken the Commando’s camp?” The official smiled.
“The first team to take down their opponent’s flag will be declared the
winner.” Chris flicked his intense
gaze to Vin and they exchanged a nod. “You have two minutes to
prepare.” Chris inclined his
head. All but Buck and Vin sat down on the grass. Ezra took out a
pack of cards and dealt them. Those watching began to
whisper. The officials conferred
and then the committee president walked across to Em7. “Colonel
Larabee?” Chris glanced at
him. “What are you doing?” “I’m about to ask for two
more cards,” Chris stated. The man blinked. “I
don’t…” “The situation is well in
hand,” Ezra assured, indicating left. Buck had pulled on a vest and Vin
had opened the trunk and was fiddling with what was inside. “We can deal you into the
next hand,” Josiah offered. Matherson’s mouth opened and
closed. “What’s Buck doing?” J.D.
asked, pointing to Wilmington who was juggling grenades. “Buck,” Chris growled. Vin rose, Gerty in his hand. He walked to the edge
of the hill, lifted his rifle and sighted the other team. Buck grabbed a rifle and
pulled on a headset. “Ready, Vin?” Buck asked. Vin grunted. The seconds ticked by and
the official started the countdown. “Five… “Buck crouched as if
in sprinter starting blocks. “Four…” The seated men of Em7
rose. “Three…” Buck drew in a deep breath.
“Two…” Chris raised his binoculars. “One.” Buck shot off like the
hounds of hell where after him. Comments from the
spectators abounded. “They’re only sending one man to take down
the Commando flag and the rest are going to stay to defend their own,”
Stains announced. “I know how Larabee thinks. Tanner is
going to cover Wilmington from here.” “He’s good enough,” Hardy
agreed. Without warning, Vin fired
two shots in quick succession. J.D. and Josiah exchanged
a high five. Nathan slapped Ezra’s
back. Ezra grinned, took out his betting book and began scribbling some
figures. Buck reappeared at the
bottom of the hill, a smile splitting his face. All others watched
perplexed, apart from the committee president who was studying the
commandos through his binoculars. “He shot the commando flag
down!” “What?” a dozen voices
thundered as one. Chris lowered his
binoculars as Vin lowered Gerty. The
pair exchanged a smile, both remembering the day several weeks earlier
when Chris had set this test for Vin to prove to him he could still do
the job. “Deja
vu.” “Yep,” Vin agreed. Matherson smiled broadly.
“Brilliant. The objective was to take down the other team’s flag
and Em7 has done that. They win.” Buck faced the stunned
crowd and bowed. “Thank you. Thank you. I’m happy to sign
autographs.” “Well done, Lieutenant,”
Ezra affirmed. “Buck, what were you
playing at?” Chris demanded. Wilmington swaggered
across to his leader. “Just wanted to give them a show, Sir.” The spectators moved
forward, straining to see in the distance. “How the hell did he shoot
their flag down?” Hardy asked. “How do you shoot down a piece of
material?” “Rudimentary
science. The laws of gravity,” Ezra offered, helpfully. “Flags don’t fly well when
you severe the ropes holding them to the pole,” Vin stated,
simply. “You shot the rope?!
From two kilometers away?!” Ezra stepped
forward. “We believe in a minimalist approach. Utilizing
the least amount of energy to achieve the objective.” Chris raised his right
eyebrow. Vin grinned.
“Liaison officer.” “Ezra’s in his element,”
Nathan chuckled, as Ezra lectured his ‘audience’. “Today’s goal was to
lower the other team’s flag and Lieutenant Tanner achieved this without
risk or threat to anyone,” Ezra finished. Stunned and bewildered
looks were replaced by genuine applause. “And that’s why they
always were, and still are, the best of the best,” Hardy announced,
walking across and shaking Vin’s hand. “You and your team are
incredible, Tanner.” Ezra glanced at Josiah.
“In the words of my mother, perceptions are everything. We have
done well today. We have won the admiration of friends and foes
alike and our team reputation has been affirmed.” “Not to mention you’ve
cleaned up in the betting stakes,” Josiah chuckled, sliding his arm
across Ezra’s shoulders. “That, Sergeant Sanchez,”
Ezra stated indignantly, closing his notebook and slipping it into his
pocket, “did not enter my mind.” ************ The enormity of Dustin
stadium dwarfed the one hundred and fifty people on, and in front of
the stage. It had taken a long time for everyone to file through
the metal detectors and to be hand searched, but Chris didn’t
care. He was satisfied no one was armed. The Stadium had
again been swept for bombs and was clear. Chris scanned the scene,
his eyes taking in every face - every section of the empty stand.
He hoped his measures had prevented the assassin gaining entrance or at
the very least, made it impossible for him to carry out his
assignment. Yet, Larabee’s spine continued to tingle. From his vantage point at
the top of the southwest section of the stadium, Chris could see
everything. He and the other team leaders were spread around the
top row, each bearing their unit’s flag. Em7’s flag was leaning
against a seat, long forgotten as Chris checked everything.
“Headset check. TWO.” “TWO,” Vin responded. “THREE.” “THREE,” Nathan acknowledged. “FOUR.” “FOUR,” Josiah thundered. “FIVE.” “FIVE,” Ezra answered. “SIX.” “SIX,” J.D. reported. “WINGS.” “WINGS. Receiving loud and clear,”
Buck assured. “Good luck, boys.”
Chris watched the organizing committee president move onto the stage. The cell phone in
Larabee’s pocket began to vibrate. He pulled it out to switch
off, but noted it was Travis. “Can’t speak now, Sir.” “I’ve just had a
call. Grant Culbert was found
murdered in his flat. Bullet to the head.” “Execution.” “Looks that way.” “Whoever’s behind this is
good. They’ve hired assassins to take out all players once their role
is finished. Thanks, General.” “Colonel Larabee, package
is here and my men have taken possession,” Major Rudd informed Chris
via his headset. The President had arrived. “Package transferred,”
Chris informed his men. “Colonel Tomkins?” “My men are in the
air. Air space is clear, Colonel.” Matherson welcomed everyone.
Adrenaline flooded Chris’ body. It had started. The last three
days had been about the next fifteen minutes. Larabee swept his eyes to
J.D., who was seated on the left of the stage. Dunne was
monitoring the airwaves for any sign of communication into or out of
the stadium and also watching images from the four static cameras which
were beaming lives images around the nation. It was too big a job
for one man and so Mickey sat with J.D., monitoring radio frequencies
on his own laptop so his friend could focus on the camera images.
J.D. was ready to jam them at a moment’s notice. “SIX?” Chris
demanded. “SIX. Nothing,
Sir. All cell phones were confiscated so if there’s any signal
we’ll be on it like a shot. Only frequencies in use at the moment
are ours and the Australian’s.”
“FOUR. All’s
quiet, Sir.” Chris’ gaze moved to
Nathan who was sitting with the competitors. All squads were
relaxing on the grass in front of the stage looking bored as the
president of the organizing committee started his speech. “THREE?” “THREE. Nothing,
Sir.” “FIVE?” Chris asked,
sweeping his eyes to Ezra who was on the stage staring back at the
crowd. Ezra was an expert in reading body language so he was
watching the competitors. “FIVE. Nothing,
Sir. We may well have thwarted their plans completely.” “We still need to find
whoever it is so we can track back to the person who took out the hit.” “There is evidence to
suggest the assassin was either Culbert or
Stutz and I believe we may have frightened them off.” “Culbert
was assassinated in his flat.” “Assassins hired to kill
assassins to cover all tracks. We are dealing with more than some
amateur who put out a hit. A broker has set this up. It’s a
complete plan. Our only chance to find out who is behind this is
catch the assassin today, trace him to the broker and then from the
broker to the person who took out the hit.” “Yet they’ve gone out of
their way to have an audience.” “True. So perhaps
whoever took out the hit will claim it, but the broker is the one who
is cleaning up to protect his own identity. I… Matherson’s finished.” Chris looked down on the
stage and watched as the organizing committee president introduced the
security chief. In five minutes the President would be led onto
the stage. The Em7 colonel searched for Buck, who was at the
other end of the stadium getting a different perspective. “WINGS?” “WINGS. Nothing,
Sir.” Chris lifted his gaze and
spotted Vin moving between the seats. Tanner had a roving
assignment. “TWO?” **** Vin ran his trained gaze
around the stadium. There was no sign of a sniper. No sign
of any threat at all, but like Chris, he couldn’t rid himself of the
sense of impending catastrophe. “TWO?”
Larabee demanded in Vin’s ear. “TWO. No sign of
anything.” Vin moved to the stairs and started up them. So far
he’d covered 60% of the stadium in his search. He lifted his gaze
to the roof where there were beams and cross bars. Could someone
be hiding up there in the shadows above the blazing and blinding
lights? How? He’d have been seen climbing up there. Tanner checked his
watch. The President was due to talk in four and a half
minutes. The breeze picked up around him and… Vin paused, the
smell of body odor tickling his nostrils. It was strong.
Vin’s heart rate increased. It was the smell of someone who had
been lying in wait for a long time. Vin’s eyes darted from
side to side and then he followed the smell… moving to where it was
strongest. He stopped only a few feet from the field. As he
took another step, it creaked, moving beneath his boot. Vin
crouched. The screws had been removed. “TWO. I may
have something,” he reported, taking out his revolver. “Request
back up. Eleven o’clock of the stage.” “WINGS,” Larabee
barked. “WINGS. Moving
now.” Vin didn’t have time to
wait. He eased his fingers under the loosened metal plate and
lifted. The enclosed metal step eased away revealing a small
crawl space the size of a man. The smell of body odor was putrid,
but what he saw sent his heart racing. Freeze dried food
wrappers. Bags of urine and excrement. A duffle bag. “TWO. Sir,
I’ve found the sniper’s nest. Repeat we have a sniper.” “Full alert. Four
minutes and counting down until the President walks out. TWO,
I want him alive!” Vin grabbed the duffle bag
and started pulling things from it, at the same time, noting the number
of bags of body waste. “This guys been hiding here for weeks…
three at least.” He’d come in before the stadium had been locked
down, Vin realized. On the inside of the duffle bag was written a
single name. “It’s Flannagan.” “Is Flannagan
a sniper, SIX?” Chris demanded. “SIX.
Negative, Sir, but he is a weapon’s expert.” Vin unfolded a piece of
paper that had been tucked in a side pocket of the bag. It was a
map of the stadium… an identical copy of the one Matherson
had given Chris. The stage was marked, as were the labeled
positions of the team leaders. Vin frowned. The word
‘Em7’ was circled in red. Vin lifted his gaze to
Chris… who was standing in the spot marked. Assassinate No. 1
at Bravo – 6th. In a split second, a hundred
things zapped through Vin’s mind. Ezra had said, ’It is too neat.
The man just happened to have the piece of paper on him? I don’t
believe in such co-incidences. Besides, professionals don’t make
blaring mistakes like that. This was meant to find its way to the
President.’ Em7 had played right into the assassin’s
hands. They’d been set up! Of course the President
would call on Em7 under such circumstances. No. 1. ONE –
Chris’ call sign. The head of the No. 1 team. It all fit. Vin leaped to his feet,
shouting, “ONE! You’re the
target! TAKE COVER!” ** Chris squinted in Vin’s
direction. “ONE! You’re the
target! TAKE COVER!” Vin’s order rang in Chris’
ears. “What?!” ** A glint from the roof
caught Josiah’s attention. He lifted his gaze and spotted….
“BAZOOKA!” ***** Vin shot onto the field … Buck took off at a sprint…J.D. jammed
communications… Ezra took two running steps and somersaulted off the
stage, his revolver snapping into his fist…. Josiah exploded
around the crowd… Nathan leaped to his feet… Australian soldiers
moved in… everyone’s heads tilted back, searching the roof dozens of metres above. Vin zeroed in on the
assassin hidden between some high powered lights. His own name
was roared. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Buck tear a rifle
from a soldier and hurl it through the air. Vin dived, caught the
weapon and rolled to his feet, took aim and fired… a split second after
the assassin triggered the bazooka. “NOOOOOO!” Tanner roared,
his head snapping around. The southwest part of the stadium
disintegrated… chairs, debris and the Em7 flag, splintering in a
million directions. The concussion of the blast threw those close
to it to the ground. Vin had no conscious
thought, but his legs started pumping, taking him toward the smoke and
mangled mass that constituted the spot where Chris had stood. Chaos
erupted as people began running in every direction. “CHRIS!” Buck’s
horrified shout echoed in Vin’s ear. Ezra, Nathan and J.D., who
had been knocked back and dazed by the explosion, groggily got to their
feet, their eyes wide with horror. Josiah roared his rage as
he clambered through the rubble. An entire section of the stadium
had disappeared… and along with it, Chris. |
|
Part Twenty The Oval Office was
shrouded in deathly silence, apart from the television blaring a report on every channel and station in
the world. “… and it was here, at
Dustin Stadium at 4:26 pm that Colonel Christopher Larabee, leader of
Executive Mediation Seven, was assassinated. The blast blew apart
an entire section of the stadium. Larabee’s body was recovered
within minutes but he died at the scene as a result of horrific
injuries. When approached for an interview, Caption Buck
Wilmington, recent entry on the reality television series ‘The Sexiest
Man in America’ had this to say, “Get out of my #$@ing
way you pack of parasites.” The President shook his
head slowly, the red, puffed, tear-stained face of Wilmington filling
the television screen as a clearly distraught Jackson and Sanchez
dragged him back. Standish moved forward. “Please. We… we need
some time.” His voice uncharacteristically shook with emotion. “I
will have a statement for you tomorrow. Until then, I implore you
to respect our privacy.” Further questions were
fired at him, but Ezra held up a trembling hand, turned then he and the
remaining members of Em7 climbed into a van. “Today has seen the
passing of arguably the world’s greatest military leader.
Tributes from around the world are already flooding in. The
President had this to say… “Our country has lost one of its greatest
sons. Larabee was a man who inspired trust and loyalty and who
gave his life protecting mine. My deepest sympathies go to his
family and to all those who knew him. A state funeral will be…” Travis switched off the
television. Those collected in the Oval Office stood in stunned
and respectful silence. The head of the CIA
glanced at the clock on the wall. It had been four hours since
the attack. “Any word on…?” the NSA chief started. Travis shook his
head. “Not yet. We…” He paused to answer his ringing
phone. “… When?… that’s what we
thought… oh? How long ago?” Travis nodded and pocketed his
phone. “Ziyad Essien,
the dictator of Ablerstein has just
claimed responsibility for the hit. Payback for Larabee
interfering in his country’s business, and a warning to all others who
consider doing so. He issued the statement fifteen minutes ago.
Seven minutes ago, he was publicly assassinated by his generals who
issued their own statement saying Essien
was out of his mind, and that they don’t want war with Em7 or America.” “That’s one loose end we
don’t need to worry about,” the head of the FBI murmured. The buzzer on the
President’s desk sounded. “Yes?” “Agent Standish is here.” Pained looks were
exchanged. Em7 was reportedly devastated. “Send him in,” the
President instructed.
Travis grimaced. He
had never heard Ezra speak so coarsely. “You’ve heard Essiein claimed responsibility and then was
assassinated.” Ezra nodded. “I
heard. Flannagan said he, Hogan and Culbert were approached by a broker to take the
hit.” “So Essien
hired a broker?” Ezra nodded. “A
brilliant one. Someone with a mind for strategy. This operation
was the best I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot. As we
suspected, the broker set everything up, told Flannagan
and his partners the plan and provided all equipment. Hogan
handed the ‘Assassinate No.1 at Bravo – 6th’ note to the
hapless assassin who was simply a pawn in a larger game. The
broker correctly predicted a note stating the President would be
assassinated at the Bravo Games would lead to Em7’s involvement.
He knew the only way for us to find an assassin was to be there… a part
of the games… all of which meant Chris would be at the closing
ceremony.” Ezra’s face flushed with emotion. “The broker was
arrogant enough to actually state in the note what he was going to do.” “Assassinate No. 1.
Chris’ call sign,” Travis agreed. “Someone knew that.” Ezra’s expression twisted
with rage. “Unlikely. But Chris is the No. 1 strategist in this
country, leading the number one team… a team that proved their number
one status at the games. Such ‘alliteration’ demonstrates
evidence of not only brilliance, but creativity too.
Unfortunately, Hogan is the only one who met this malicious bastard.” “But who is it?” the
President asked in frustration. “I think we know who,” a
deep, calm and very firm voice declared as a shadowed figure stiffly
entered the darkened room through a door on the far right. The
President and five other top security personnel turned toward him… all
but Travis gasping. “You’re alive!” Chris Larabee nodded as
his team spread out behind him. Larabee’s face and arms were covered in
cuts and abrasions, and a darkening bruise spread across his right
cheek. “But… the explosion?!” Chris glanced at
Vin. Had he not reacted instantly to his lieutenant’s warning, he
would indeed have suffered the same fate as the part of the stadium
blown apart. Rather, by the time the assassin fired, Chris had
been on the move for several seconds… those seconds Vin had given him
had made all the difference and saved his life. Chris had dived
clear unseen, because at the time of the explosion, every set of eyes
in the stadium had been searching above for Flannagan.
The blast had catapulted him further away and he’d slammed
between two rows of seats, almost twenty feet from the collapsed
section of the stadium where his team had been searching for him.
Four hours ago… Vin couldn’t think. Couldn’t feel. His emotions swamped
him. All around him was twisted
metal and plastic… echoing the condition of his soul. He picked up a
shredded piece of material from the Em7 flag. If the blast had
done this to the flag, what had it done to Chris? There was no
way anyone could survive an explosion like this. Vin paused, trying to find
a way above the emotion so he could think clearly. Buck’s desperate cries
filled the air. The horrified faces of the
other boys made the sense of unreality worse. Ezra was trying to
organize a systematic search… J.D. was on the phone trying to get
heat-seeking equipment and search dogs… Nathan was shouting at someone…
Josiah was clearing away rubble like a machine… and through it all Buck
continued to call Chris’ name. Vin’s heart twisted… but
something stirred deep down inside him. He froze, recognizing the
nebulous feeling. Shutting his eyes, he allowed the feeling to
build. Blinking, Vin looked to the right… he didn’t know
why. Something he didn’t understand urged him in that
direction. Vin climbed over the
rubble and down onto the field. He scanned the mound the boys and
one hundred and twenty other men and women were frantically
searching. His gaze drifted up into the section of the stand
nearby. There. Vin jogged up the stairs,
his eyes darting wildly. Then he spotted… “CHRIS!” Vin leaped over the seats
and dropped beside the blood splattered prone body. He gripped Chris’
neck and found a good, strong pulse. “NATHAN! Over
here! He’s alive!” There were roars of
surprise and cheers, accompanied by bellows from members of the team. Vin knew better than to
shift Chris, aware spinal injuries were a possibility. Gently, he
squeezed his friend’s shoulder and whispered, “Hang in there, Cowboy.”
Chris groaned, rolled from
his side to his back and blinked several times. “Vin?” Vin smiled… beamed as
Chris drew his legs in and tried to sit up. “Whooa.
Wait for Nathan.” “I’m okay.” Chris smirked
but it faded into a grimace. “You get him?” For a moment, Vin couldn’t
find his voice, and then his relief released in a flood of curses.
“Yeah. Yeah, I got him, Sir.” “Alive?” “Should be. Haven’t had time to check.” “Help me up before the
Doctor from hell gets here.” Vin shook his head.
“Wait until…” “It wasn’t a request,
Lieutenant.” “Don’t touch him!” Nathan
bellowed, climbing past Vin. “Chris! Nathan?”
Buck demanded hysterically. “Is he okay?! Chris!” Josiah gripped Buck’s arm,
stopping him from getting in Nathan’s way. “Give me a minute.”
Jackson ran his experienced fingers and eyes over Chris’ frame. Others climbed the steps
to investigate and offer help, but Ezra sent them retreating. Nathan turned to the
others and smiled. “Don’t react,” Ezra
snapped in a hushed tone. “Look devastated. Colonel Larabee must
die. It’s the best way to flush out those responsible.” Hidden from the view of
those below, Chris looked up at Ezra and nodded. “Agreed” he
whispered. “Gentlemen, it is time for
some Emmy Award winning acting. Our colonel just passed away.” The Oval Office... Larabee flicked his gaze
to his stone-faced men who stood silently to one side. They
had acted brilliantly, each drawing on the powerful emotions that had
consumed them only moments before
discovering Chris was alive. In their eyes, Larabee could still
see that emotion. “The broker had to have
inside information about the games. Enough to inform Flannagan when the stadium would be shut down so
he could enter before hand… and access to the diagram of the closing
ceremony so Flannagan knew exactly where
I’d be standing. J.D.” “Only one international
outgoing call was made following the attack… and that was from NSA Agent Melissa Hilford’s phone,” J.D. informed everyone. “Shall we, boys?” Chris
invited lethally. The men of Em7 strode
across the room. “She will be brought in
alive?” the FBI chief inquired. Buck, who was at the back
of the group, stopped and turned. “Only if someone else gets to
her before I do.” His rage was no act and the threat real. With
that, he followed his team out. ********** Ezra scanned the
scene. His team was placed strategically. J.D. was in the
van monitoring incoming and outgoing calls and recording the signal
from the wire Ezra was wearing. Chris was on the left of the door
pressed against the wall and Buck was on the right. Nathan was below a side
window and Josiah at the back door ready to bludgeon entrance.
Vin was on the roof of the house across the road… lying on his stomach,
‘Gerty’ at the ready. Chris nodded and Ezra
stepped out from behind the van and walked up the path. They
needed to get Hilford on tape admitting to
brokering the hit… for the only evidence they had she was the broker
was the fact she’d made an international call from the Stadium.
That wouldn’t hold up in court. Ezra knocked on the screen
door. Hilford appeared in the centre
of the room. “Agent Standish?” she
responded, pleasantly. She moved to the door, but didn’t open it. “Agent Hilford.” “I’m so sorry about your
colonel. Dreadful business. At least you killed the man
responsible.” A smile slowly spread
across Ezra’s face. “I’m sure you’d like me to confirm you are
indeed in the clear, but Flannagan lived
and while he didn’t meet you, I know you are the broker who set
up the hit on my colonel… just as you brokered the hit on the former
President so many years ago when we first met at a SeCReTS
exchange.” “You’re crazy. I
don’t know what you are…” “Please. Let us not
embarrass ourselves. You are a formidable woman… I don’t think
others know just how formidable.” Hilford eyed Ezra. “You
have no proof of your allegations.” She searched behind
him. “The fact that you are here alone proves that.” “I’m not alone,” Ezra
assured. “And as for proof, Ziyad Essien’s generals found your phone number in his
things. We tracked money he sent to a Swiss bank account… an
account you electronically checked from your home computer.” They
were all educated guesses, but they worked. Hilford’s hand darted out for her
weapon. “Not a wise move, my dear.” Hilford aimed her revolver at the
apparently unarmed Ezra. She glanced to the right out of a
window, then the left and then around Ezra. Finally her face
relaxed. “Damn Essien. I told
him not to leave any evidence of our contact.” Ezra smiled. They
had the confession they needed. Hilford continued to search for
signs of the rest of Em7. “You’re alone. Not a wise move,
my dear,” she spat. “So you are going to shoot
me on your own door step? I think not. Besides, questions
will be asked.” Her composure
flickered. “Self defense.” “I’m unarmed.” “Good!” She took a
step forward. “Don’t move!... or rest assured it will be your last.
You are surrounded and should you make any further threat to my person,
my team will take you down.” “Your team isn’t
here,” Hilford snarled with
certainty. “I saw them on the news. Men are such
weaklings. Devastated by the loss of a soldier. It’s
just you and I… and I have your measure, Standish.” Ezra shook his head
sadly. “I gave you more credit than you deserved.
Lieutenant Tanner is on the roof behind me. He needs but an inch
of you visible to kill you.” Ezra’s tone became harsh and
firm. “Put down the weapon.” Hilford swallowed, staring past
Ezra. She blinked, spotting the sharpshooter. “TWO. I have
a clear shot.” The words sprung from the radio in Ezra’s pocket. “Your call,” Ezra
growled. Tense seconds ticked by. With a sigh, Hilford allowed her gun to fall to the
carpet. “You have my measure,”
Ezra accused. He snorted. “Before we even arrived here, I
knew you couldn’t pull the trigger. While you are able to hire
others to do so, you cannot kill in cold blood. That, my dear,
is a weakness and in this game, you can’t afford such a
blaring one. Step outside.” Hilford glared at Ezra as she
opened the door. “TWO. We’re
clear. Stand down, boys,” Chris ordered. Hilford’s head snapped to the right
to where Chris stood less than two feet from her. He eyes widened
in astonishment. “But…you’re… I saw your body!” “You saw what you were
meant to see,” Ezra explained. Roughly, he spun her around and
slapped on handcuffs. Buck stood to the left,
his chest heaving. His right cheek twitched with rage and
frustration. Had Hilford been a man
he’d have beat him senseless, but Buck would never raise a finger
against a woman. With a growl he smashed his fist into the screen
door, sending it crumpling inward. Josiah raced around and
encircled Buck with his powerful arms to stop him lashing out further
and hurting himself. To her credit, Hilford didn’t flinch. “I took on Em7 and almost
won,” she declared proudly. “Few can claim that.” “You took on Em7 and lost…
exactly the same as so many other incompetent simpletons,” Ezra stated
simply. Hilford ground her jaw. “Oh, and thank you for the
confession.” Ezra opened his shirt to reveal the wire tap. “You
were right. We had no concrete evidence.” Hilford’s eyes blazed as she was
dragged off. ********** Chris stared around the
empty, silent Em7 office. He’d given the rest of his men the day
off. Yesterday had been emotional for them all. Buck had found the entire
incident more difficult than anyone else. Accepting that a woman had
been behind it was painful for no other reason than Buck had a deep
respect for all women. He also hadn’t been able to pound his
frustrations with his fists and so there had been no release.
Josiah had taken him aside, but when that hadn’t worked, Vin had come
to the rescue. Chris smiled. One
limped step from Vin – an apparent twisted ankle after leaping from the
neighbor’s roof - and Buck had moved into mother hen mode, Hilford forgotten. It had been a small
deception on Vin’s part, but it had worked. By the time Buck had
‘carried’ Vin to the van, helped remove his boot, and pronounced no
sign of swelling, Hilford had been taken
away. Thankfully, Buck didn’t hold onto rage for long and soon he
was back to his jovial self, cracking jokes, teasing Ezra and annoying
J.D. As Chris finalized the
report on his desk, he glanced at a team photo on the wall. A
smile of pride creased his lips. They were a hell of a group of
men. ********** Vin frowned at the sound
of knocking. He rose, retrieved his revolver from his shoulder
holster and then walked across and opened the door. The man standing on the
other side smiled and then blinked… and his mouth dropped open.
“Holy cow.” Vin’s brow furrowed.
The stranger, dressed neatly in a suit, had a striking resemblance to
the person Vin saw in the mirror every morning. For several seconds the
pair stared. “I’m Martin. Martin
Fitzgerald. We’re cousins,” Martin fumbled. Vin remembered Richard
remarking something about ‘Martin’ looking like his father.
Offering his hand he managed to get out, “Vin Tanner.” Martin smiled.
“Yeah, I know. I had to fly to DC on business and… I decided to
look you up. My God you look like Uncle Eric.” “He was my father.” Martin nodded. Still the two men
stared. “Umm, sorry. Please
come in.” Vin indicated for his
guest to take a seat and he then offered him a beer. Martin accepted the
can. The two men took at swig, neither’s gaze leaving the other. “If I cut my hair…” Martin smiled. “Or
if I grew mine longer…” Vin smirked. “So…
cousin?” “My mother was your
father’s oldest sister. When she married, she lost touch with the
rest of her family.” “Oh?” Vin asked curiously. “Mum didn’t get along with
Mary Ellen. It hurts Gramps, but I guess there’s nothing that can
be done. Family’s like that sometimes. So… you just turned up on
the doorstep?” Vin chuckled at the
irony. “You just turned up on mine.” Martin grinned.
“True.” Vin sat back in his chair,
relaxing a little. He felt strangely at ease with Martin despite
the bizarre atmosphere. “How long are you in DC?” “I’ve finished my business
and…” Martin licked his lips and his face clouded with guilt. ”To be
honest, I applied for a few days leave so I could look you up.” Vin nodded.
“Good. There’s a lot you can tell me about our family. We…
my team… has a ranch about 40 minutes
flight from here. Would you be interested in flying out there and
spending some time together?” Martin’s face lit with
genuine pleasure. “That sounds great… cuz.” |
|
Part Twenty-One J.D. nodded encouragement
to his father as they entered the doctor’s office. He’d convinced
his dad to come to the Alcohol Abuse Clinic… and he’d driven him
himself to ensure he came. The doctor behind the desk
rose and extended his hand. “Please sit. Now, Mr. Dunne, I
believe this isn’t the first time you’ve attended one of our clinics?” Andrew Dunne shook his
head. “No.” “We have only limited
places so it is important to us that the people who come here want to
stop drinking… rather than their family simply wants
them to stop drinking.” J.D. swallowed and looked
at his father. “So, Andrew, why is this
time different to the last?” the doctor prompted. Andy Dunne glanced at his
son. “Because this time, I made a promise to my son that I’d
follow through.” He turned back to the doctor. “I need to
stop drinking. My wife has left me. My step-daughter is
scared of me… and my son is ashamed of me.” “No, I’m not ashamed,
dad. I’m damn angry at you,” J.D. stated. The doctor sat back and
pursed his lips. “I see. The programme
lasts fifteen weeks. It is expensive. I have in my
notes that last time your wife mortgaged the house.” Andy Dunne nodded and
wrung his trembling hands. The tremors would not go away any
more. “Yes. We lost the house.” Doctor Brennan scanned the
details he had. “This time your son is paying for your treatment?” “Yes. Look
Doctor. I find this humiliating. My boy is now taking care
of me. It isn’t supposed to be that way. I am going to stop
drinking and I’m going to pay him back for this… not just the
money. I want to prove to him I can be the father he’s always
wanted.” J.D. stared at the ground,
emotion gathering like a fist in his throat. “I’ll do whatever it
takes,” Andrew pledged. Doctor Brennan
nodded. “All right, Mr. Dunne. I think we can accommodate
you. Please do not be under any illusions. This will be the
most difficult thing you’ve ever done in your life.” “No, it won’t. The
most difficult thing I’ve done in my life was realize how much I’m
hurting my family.” Brennan smiled.
“Then you have truly taken the first step. Welcome to the programme, Mr. Dunne.” ********** Nathan flopped on the
couch next to Josiah. They’d recorded the game while they’d been
away and were now watching it. “Did I miss anything?” “Nope.” “Have you told Chris about
being arrested the other night?” Josiah shook his head,
grimacing. He’d had to ring Nathan to bail him out after he’d…
defended Emma Dubbonet’s honor against the
gutter press. When Chris had texted Nathan to go to Vin’s place because
he was having seizures, they’d just left the police station.
“Wasn’t really an appropriate time.” “True, but you better let
him know.” Josiah nodded.
“Nathan, I need to go,” he stated, rising. “Huh?” “I have some things I need
to attend to.” Nathan shook his head
slowly. “Josiah, I love you like a brother so I hope you
understand that I’m saying this for your own good. Forget
Emma. It’s been fifteen years.” Josiah’s shook his
head. “Can’t, Nathan. I have to find out...” His
voice faded. “Find out what? If
she waited for you?” Nathan stood up. “Josiah, I know that
in your mind the two of you are still engaged but… just maybe, when she
didn’t hear from you, she thought you’d stood her up.” Josiah’s looked at his
friend puzzled. “You think so?” Nathan grinned
easily. “Yeah, big guy. I think so.” “Then I better go and ask
her,” Josiah announced, spinning around and marching out of Nathan’s
flat. Nathan exhaled slowly,
then grabbed his jacket and raced after his friend. “Wait up,
Josiah! I’m coming with you.” ********** Ezra nervously watched the
entrance of the café. He’d rung his fath…
Wilhelm and asked him to meet him at this small, up-market
teashop. He didn’t want him coming to the house. His mother
was still there. The small bell over the
door tinkled and the doorway filled with a familiar figure. Ezra
rose and forced a smile. Wilhelm returned the smile and joined
him. The pair shared a brief, but somewhat awkward hug and then
took seats. “Sorry I’m late. The
traffic from the airport was appalling. Have you ordered?” “Yes. Two Earl Grey
teas.” Wilhelm winked. He
glanced around the room and then let his eyes settle on Ezra.
“So, what is the problem?” Ezra blinked. Wilhelm smiled.
“Come on, son. I heard it in your voice when you rang and asked
me to fly over here. Your mother hasn’t called in the last few
days so I’m assuming I’m in her bad books at the moment because I
couldn’t make the trip with her due to business.” He seemed quite
chipper. “Ummm.
No. It isn’t…” Ezra paused. He really didn’t know how to do
this. For the first time,
Wilhelm’s expression became serious. “Ezra?” “Mother… I mean… I knew
there was something troubling her and so I asked a friend… Josiah… you remember Josiah?… of course you do -
you poisoned him… well, I asked him to speak to mother. He’s a
qualified psychologist… among other things and he…” Wilhelm reached his hand
across the table and laid it on Ezra’s arm. “Son, what’s
wrong? Is your mother sick?” “No, Sir.
She…” Ezra exhaled slowly and shut his eyes. “This is…I…” Ezra heard Wilhelm’s chair
scrape on the polished wood floor. “I need some water over here,
please.” Ezra looked up as Wilhelm
walked around and placed his hand on his son’s brow. “I’m fine,” Ezra assured. “You don’t look or sound
fine.” Ezra smirked. “You
know what fine means don’t you?” “"Yes. Fine - good
condition or quality... thin... sharp... keen...delicate..." "No.
F...I...N...E. F&%# up. Insecure. Neurotic.
Emotional." Wilhelm blinked. He
accepted the glass of water from the waitress, handed it to Ezra and
then moved back to his own seat. “Sorry. Military
humor. I seem to be picking up bad habits all of the time.” Wilhelm nodded
slowly. “Ezra, what’s wrong? You’ve been babbling since I
arrived. I may not have been around as you grew up, but I do
recognize when my son is avoiding a topic.” “Your son,” Ezra murmured
painfully, the agony he felt claiming his trademark poker face.
He shook his head sadly. “That is the problem. I may not be
your son.” Wilhelm eyed Ezra like
he’d just sworn at the Pope. “What are you talking about?” “This isn’t going to be
easy, but please don’t interrupt until I’ve finished.” Wilhelm sat back.
“Go on.” “The night my mother left
you, it was because your brother forced himself upon her pretending to
you be you. She begged him to stop… believing it to be you… and
he wouldn’t. It was only afterwards she realized it wasn’t you
and in fear, she fled. She didn’t know how to tell you… afraid
both of what you’d think and… that she would never be able to look at
you in the same light again because… in her words… it was your face and
your voice, even though it wasn’t you.” Wilhelm Standish’s rich
complexion paled. “Heinz… masqueraded
as me and forced himself on Maude?!” Ezra could see Wilhelm’s
mind whirling, his pupils dilating. Ezra nodded. “She
ran away. Initially, I believe, just to clear her head but then
she discovered she was pregnant with me and so… she had to hide the
secret. Because you and Heinz are identical twins, there’s no way
we can do a paternity test.” Ezra’s voice had dropped to a
whisper. “There’s no scientific way to prove which of you is my father.” Wilhelm stared at him and
then, he reached out and picked up Ezra’s hand. “I don’t care
what science has to say. I look at you and I feel it. I
know it.” Ezra gripped Wilhelm’s
hand and his eyes welled with tears. In Wilhelm’s face he saw
strength he’d only ever seen in one other man. “Heinz is not your
father, Ezra. I am.” Slowly Ezra nodded and
whispered emotionally, “I know, Dad.” Wilhelm rose and walked
around the table. Ezra stood up and Wilhelm wrapped his arms around his
boy. “You are my son. No one can take that away
from us.” They pulled apart.
“Mother doesn’t know I’ve told you. I just… I had to…” Wilhelm raised his
hand. “It’s okay, Ezra. I’ll
speak to Maude, but first, I must fly out to Austria to deal with this.” Ezra wiped his face and
nodded. “I’m coming with you.” “No, son. Heinz
works for an underground, extreme branch of the Austrian Secret
Service.” Ezra’s strength faltered
briefly. He had to believe the similarity between their chosen
professions was because Heinz was his uncle… not because he was his
father. “Heinz is a very dangerous
man,” Wilhelm whispered. Ezra’s expression
hardened. “So am I. I’ll ask Chris for leave. He’ll grant
it and we’ll go together.” ********** Martin replaced the brush
he’d been using to brush Hickok. He stretched his back and then
rubbed his butt. “Okay?” Vin asked, closing
the gate. “Yeah. It’s just
been a long time since I’ve ridden. Horses are not as comfortable
as my armchair at home.” Vin smirked. He and
Martin had enjoyed a short ride during which Martin had filled him in
on some of their family history. Unfortunately, Martin didn’t
know the Tanners well because of his mother’s estrangement from them,
but he’d said enough for Vin to recognize the deep love and respect
Martin had for their grandfather. “Hey, my boss knows
yours,” Martin stated. “They grew up together. When Jack
heard Larabee had been killed, he took it hard. Of course, when
they made the announcement that it had been a deception to flush out an
assassin, he was… angry as hell.” Vin winked. “I’m
sure a few people felt the same way.” The pair entered the house
and Vin put the kettle on. Martin walked to the fridge and opened
it. “I’m starving. Cheese.” Vin turned around and
looked passed his cousin. “Hell, is that still there? It
must be two weeks old.” Martin took the cheese
platter out and lifted the dome. “Whoa!”
“My favourite.” Vin raised his right
eyebrow. “Really?” “Yeah.” Vin grinned and studied
the cheese. “This has some decent mould on it.” “Extra culture, just the
way I like it.” Vin blinked. “Me
too,” he stated quietly. The two men stared at each other.
If it wasn’t for the four year age difference, they could be twins. Vin grabbed two knives and
some crackers. Both men cut off chunks of cheese and devoured
it. Face screwing up followed, and then grins. “She sure has a kick.” “Yep. I…” Vin was interrupted by his
cell phone. He dug it out of his pocket and checked the caller
ID. ‘Martha Keaton’. The name rung
a bell. He searched his memory. Martha was the reporter
who’d helped him on the Island of Havico
when Ella had tried to kill the boys. “Martha.” “How did you know it was
me? Never mind. Not important. No telling how long this
connection will hold so I’ll be quick. Do you remember Elijah
Waverley … he let you have his dog team when you insisted on going off
in that blizzard to save your friends?” “Yeah.” “Died last week of a heart
attack.” “I’m sorry.” “Yeah, we all are.
Anyway, some obscure relative showed up and is selling everything,
including the dogs. To cut a long story short, Zorro didn’t take
kindly to his new owner, bit him and so was sent to the vets to be
euthanized. The night before it was to happen, George Culpepper
and I busted him out, put him in a crate and put him on a plane out of
here addressed to you.” “To me?!” “Couldn’t think of anyone
else to send him to, son. Besides, I’ve never seen that dog take
to anyone apart from you.” “But Martha, I live in a
small flat in the middle of DC.” “You’re an intelligent
young man. You’ll work something out.” Vin peered out the window
at the wide pastures of Four Corners and muttered, “Not sure what the
horses are going to think of Zorro.” “He’ll be arriving at DC
airport early tomorrow morning.” Vin sighed. “I’m
heading out there tomorrow to drop my cousin off so I’ll pick him up.” “Good, lad. I knew I
could count on you. Hope you’re well. Got to go. The
printing press is making a grinding sound.” The phone went dead.
Vin shook his head with amusement. Martha was a one woman army. “Problem?” Martin asked. Vin pocketed his
phone. “Sort of. It looks like I’ve just been gifted a
purebred husky with a bad attitude.” Vin cut another chunk of
cheese. “Go on,” Martin
encouraged, matching Vin’s slice. “Well, Zorro…” ********** Chris stared at the
paperwork strewn across his desk. The bell sounding the arrival
of the elevator drew his attention. Looking out through the
two-way glass into the doghouse, Chris watched Buck step from the car. Buck strolled into
Larabee’s office munching on an apple and flopped into the chair
opposite Chris. “What are you doing in
here?” “Well, J.D.’s spending
time with his father at the clinic. Josiah has a date with some
woman called Emma. Ezra’s having ‘tea’ with his father.
Vin’s at Four Corner’s with his cousin and Nathan’s on the phone to his
mother getting cooking advice… and the reason I know all of this is
because I’ve just called them all.” Chris waited as Buck took
another bite of the apple. “So?” “Everyone is spending time
with family so I thought I better too.” Buck flashed Chris a look of
sincerity. Chris snorted
softly. Buck grinned easily.
“Want to shoot some hoops?” Chris scanned his
desk. “Why the hell not.” The pair rose and headed
toward the gym.” “By the way, can I sleep
at your place tonight?” Buck asked, lobbing the apple core into a trash
bin. “He scores!” “Why? Is there something
wrong with your apartment?” Chris asked suspiciously, picking up a ball. “Actually, it’s because
there are a couple of ladies camped out on my doorstep and they won’t
leave.” Chris smiled. “Animal
magnetism out of control?” Buck nodded
vehemently. “Tell me about it. You know, this animal
magnetism can be a curse.” Chris laughed and shot the
ball at Buck. “First to twenty.” “You’re on… so can I sleep
at your place?” *** Ezra decided he needed to
speak to Chris face to face. As he exited the elevator he heard
the sound of voices from the gymnasium. “Hey, Ez. Want to
join us?” Buck invited, sidestepping Chris and dropping a basket. Ezra stared at
Chris. “Can I speak with you?” “You alright?” Buck asked. Ezra’s eyes never left
Chris… drawing strength from a man he respected more than any
other. “No. Not really.” Chris glanced at Buck and
inclined his head. “I’ll grab us some beers,”
Buck offered, leaving the room. “What’s up?” “I’ve spoken to my father…
told him everything. My uncle belongs to the underground, extreme
right wing of the Austrian Secret Service. I need leave to fly to
Austria with my father to deal with this.” Chris frowned and sank
onto a weight bench. “There’s no way I’m granting you leave
to hunt this man down, Ezra.” Ezra’s face flooded with
shock. “But…” Chris rose from the bench,
walked across to his friend and gripped his shoulders. “I’m not
granting you leave. We have a rule in this team. Attack
one… and you attack all. Em7 will handle this together.
That’s an order, Standish.” Buck re-entered the room
with beers. “Buck, call the
boys. We’ve flying to Austria.” Buck blinked. “Ooookay.” He turned and disappeared again. Ezra stared at
Chris. “I… thank you, Chris. I…” “Colonel! General
Travis on the line.” Chris jogged through the
office and took the phone from Buck. Ezra followed. “Sir?” Chris
listened. He flashed Ezra a pained look. “Yes. Sir.”
Chris replaced the receiver, dug his cell phone from his pocket and
dialed the team’s emergency party line. J.D., Vin, Josiah and
Nathan all called in within seconds. “Office.
Priority Red,” Chris snapped. Chris pocketed his
phone. “We’re on, boys. Ezra, I need all you can find on a
group of Miscan Rebels known as Indomacus. “Yes, Sir.” Ezra sat
down at his computer and typed furiously. “Buck, get the plane
ready. We fly out for Miscan in an
hour.” “Yes, Sir.” ** J.D. gave his father a
brief hug. “I’ll call when I can.” With that, he sprinted
for the car park. ** Nathan switched off the
oven, grabbed his shoulder holster and shot out his flat, leaving half
cooked food on the hotplates. ** Josiah raced across the
lobby. He’d been waiting all day for Emma. The elevator
sounded and the doors opened. He chanced a look behind and saw
Emma step out. “I love you, Emma. As soon as I get back, we
need to talk.” ** Vin grabbed his
coat. “We’ve got go, Martin. Priority Red.” Martin
raced after his cousin and leaped aboard the helicopter as Vin started
the propellers. “Martin, I’m going to need
you to pick up Zorro from the airport for me.” **
Fifty-five minutes later,
the men of Em7 pounded across the tarmac toward their plane. They
were number one… the first, last and only line of defense when other
agencies failed. No matter what was going on in their lives with regard
to relations, revelations or anything else, when called to arms to
retaliate on behalf of the weak, or to defend the interests of their
motherland, Em7 accepted that their lives belonged to their
nation. For this reason Larabee’s men always responded instantly,
and without question to their country’s call. So ends this tale.
Another had just begun. **Archiver’s note: Unfortunately, this is the last of the EM7 stories Aussie Lass/Brigitta B posted. There are stand alone stories and other AUs based on this series, go check them out.** © August 2008 Brigitta
B. : This relates only to the creative
property in this story. The distinctive way the story unfolds, the
specific dialogue and unique situations are mine. I acknowledge that
the characters and settings belong to MGM and Trilogy Entertainment and
thank them sincerely for turning a blind eye so I can borrow them. (g)
No infrigement of copyright was intended
and no profit has been made from this story... so, please don't sue me.
It wouldn't be worth your while. |
This page is for fan enjoyment and review. I do not own any of the pictures. They remain the property of their original owners. No infringement of copyright is intended. I am making no money from this site... I wish! If you see anything on this page (or any other page on my site) that you believe belongs to you and you would like me to remove it, please just let me know and I will take it down immediately or, if you prefer, acknowledge you in full. (g)