Dawn of the Assassin

by Bill Brewer

  “Throw it in the ocean so they can’t track us with the phone.”

  “The phone has been off since I found it.”

  “You can turn the phone off, but the GPS will still connect with the satellite. Bottom line, the phone can be tracked.”

  “Very well, then.” Barney snapped open the phone, pulled out the battery, and tossed the device overboard. “Now we are in a race to the Red Sea.”

  Barney got out a map and showed Diegert where they were and where he felt they would be safe. “It’ll be about two days of sailing to round the Horn of Africa and enter the Gulf of Aden. Pirates operate in the gulf, but the US Navy has a very big presence. I think we’ll be safe. To sail across the gulf will take another day, and then we’ll enter the Red Sea.”

  Diegert reviewed what was described on the map and nodded with understanding.

  “We’ve got a good wind coming up. Let’s unfurl the jib and really capture its strength.”

  When the jib sail was fully engaged, the Sue Ellen flew across the ocean faster than Diegert had yet experienced.

  When duties returned to refinement and adjustment of the sails, Barney asked, “So you told me about leaving America because of killing two men, and last night you killed six. When was the first time you killed a man?”

  “The first thing I ever killed was a frog. My dad was a hunter. He was always hunting, with deer season being the most important. My older brother, Jake, and he would go on hunting trips all the time. When I was seven or eight, I begged him to take me hunting. He got out a BB gun and we went frogging. We waded into ponds and waited for their big-eyed heads to surface. My dad shot the first two, right between the eyes. They just floated there dead for him to scoop up in a net. He handed me the gun and reminded me to only shoot big ones.”

  “Sounds like a good old American bonding experience.”

  “Yeah, we spied one that was big enough, and I sighted the gun on the head and fired the tiny metal BB, hitting the frog but not killing it. The frog started flopping around, splashing in a circle. My dad was quick with the net and scooped up the frog, which entangled itself in the net.”

  “We waded ashore, and I could tell he wasn’t happy. He stepped over to a big stone in the woods and said to me, ‘Now you have to finish him.’ I cocked the BB gun. He said, ‘Not with a BB.’ I looked up at him confused about what he meant. He said, ‘Whack his head on the stone.’ He handed me the net. I untangled the frog and could see that I had hit him on the side of the head near his circular ear, debilitating but not fatal. I held the frog by the legs and looked at my dad, who made a powerful downward thrust with his fist.”

  Diegert demonstrated by forcefully slapping the back of one hand into the other.

  “The stone had a jagged edge. I raised the frog over my head and brought him down as hard as I could. When the frog struck the rock it started screaming.” Diegert paused. “You’d be surprised at how frogs can scream. The sound was shrill, and the pitch turned my stomach. I started crying, and my dad told me, ‘He’s suffering, boy, you’ve got to finish him.’ Through my tears, I struck the frog on the rock again and again and again until his screaming stopped, and his body went limp.”

  Diegert’s face was sallow, his head and shoulders slumped, and he couldn’t meet Barney’s eyes.

  “I dropped the frog and turned away from my dad, choking back my tears. I swallowed the pain and wiped my tears on my sleeve. ‘Quit cryin’ like a girl,’ my dad said, ‘we gotta clean these frogs.’ I picked up the frogs, and he showed me how to clean them, cutting off their legs and stripping the skins. We ate them that night, and my dad never took me hunting again.”

  “Were you disappointed about that?” asked Barney.

  “Yeah, but I learned what I was capable of and how I would react.”

  “Whaddya mean?”

  “I mean, I was capable of killing, but it hurt. I could do it, but I’d feel it,” Diegert said forlornly.

  “But the feeling didn’t stop you.”

  “I wanted to go hunting because I wanted to be with my dad. Killing frogs wasn’t really what I was after. I figured the killing would be fine. He and Jake killed animals all the time. I was unprepared, though, for my emotional reaction to the struggle and suffering of something that’s trying to hold on to its life.”

  “The fight for survival,” spilled almost absentmindedly from Barney.

  “Absolutely, the desperation and despair that even a frog experiences all because you chose to kill it. It’s tough, but if you deal with your emotions, you can get through it and continue.”

  Diegert looked at Barney, who held his gaze while pressing him with his next question.

  “What about the first man?”

  “The first time I ever killed men was those two guys in Austin.”

  Barney’s eyebrows rose as he glanced at Diegert.

  “I was being held hostage by the Russian mafia, and my captors were going to rape me. I snapped, fought back, got a gun from one of them, and shot them both.”

  Barney, caught in thought, paused to form his next question. “Why were you being held hostage?”

  “Because they used me to make it seem like I’d killed a guy three days earlier. They were holding me so they could eventually turn me in.”

  “And they figured as long as they’re holding you, they might as well man-rape you.”

  “Yeah, so I wasn’t having any of that shit. Once you start fighting with guys like that, though, it’s to the death. The one guy already had four assassinations to his credit.”

  “The situation sounds somewhat like the pirates. Disarming men and using their weapons to kill them.”

  Diegert reacted with a slight chuckle. “I guess so.”

  Barney kept his gaze on Diegert, who stared down at the deck of the boat.

  “So you began killing in self-defense, and you’ve progressed since then.”

  “I’m not sure I’d call it progress, but I have…diversified. I’ve also learned the value of a good clean head shot.”

  20

  In the afternoon quiet, Diegert was concentrating while sailing the Sue Ellen. He paused for a moment, feeling a shift in the wind.

  “Hey, did you feel that?”

  Smiling, Barney replied, “Good for you, a shift from the east, and it’s now coming offshore. Trim the sheets and I’ll bring the boom around.”

  Diegert pulled on the main sail’s sheets while Barney used the tiller to change the boat’s angle. They ducked as the boom passed overhead to the portside of the vessel.

  “We’re secure,” said the ship’s captain.

  As they sat on deck working the sails and enjoying the speed of the boat Diegert asked, “Who was Sue Ellen?”

  “Sue Ellen? We all have a Sue Ellen,” began Barney. “The girl you fell in love with but only you knew. Or maybe some others knew, but she didn’t, and if she did, she never let you know she knew.”

  “Was this a real girl?”

  “She’s as real as love and as thrilling as lust. She’s the delight of attraction and the disappointment of unrequited advances. She’s the reason your heart took flight and the reason your heart is broken.”

  Barney’s semi-poetic words struck Diegert as maudlin. “I don’t have a Sue Ellen.”

  “If you don’t, I worry about ya and I feel sorry for ya, but I can’t say I admire ya.”

  “So you named your boat after a disappointing girl who broke your heart?”

  “No, I named her after youth, beauty, hope, and the heart-pounding excitement of loving someone special.”

  Diegert held his gaze upon Barney as if he were looking at an oddity in the zoo. “Weird.”

  “I certainly hope you don’t grow old without having a Sue Ellen in your life.”

  The sudden realization that he might one day be as alone and lonely as Barney hit Diegert hard. Nevertheless, he replied with, “Whatever.”

  Diegert felt hesitant, but he was compelled to ask Barney something more
. “I have another question for you.”

  Barney eyed the younger man from under his bushy gray brows.

  “Tell me about the guns in the case?”

  Barney looked out over the ocean and gazed across the expanse of the sky. “They’re not mine.”

  “Then whose are they?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “Why not?”

  “I have been entrusted with them, but they are deadly. They bring a curse upon this vessel and its occupants. I hate the contents of that case, and it’s all I can do not to throw them overboard.”

  Diegert sat quietly with the uneasy feeling of having intruded, while at the same time being even more curious about why the weapons were even on the Sue Ellen.

  “I prefer not to talk about it again. Now go tighten the halyards and keep her on course.” Barney descended the stairs into the cabin below.

  Diegert had learned a lot about sailing in his time at sea with Barney. Still, he was a bit surprised the old man just left him to skipper the boat under the current strong winds. Necessity enhanced learning, and Diegert didn’t want to slow the boat, so he worked the sails to keep the pressure on the windward side. The course Barney had set brought them closer to shore, and off the portside Diegert could gauge progress as landmarks on shore passed by. If the guns in the case were a curse, Diegert took comfort in the fact that the dolphins off the starboard side were a blessing. A school of eight dolphins raced alongside the Sue Ellen. Their speed and power was awe-inspiring and their interest in the boat and desire to stay by her side thrilled Diegert. Just having these beautiful creatures nearby took away the boredom and loneliness that was such a difficult part of life at sea.

  Having alienated the only other human on board, Diegert appreciated the harmonious relationships represented by the school. Even if it were only in his mind, he felt a kinship with these high-speed mammals. He wondered what it would be like to live your life in such a huge expanse of water and need nothing but your body in order to thrive. Humans always needed stuff to live. Even if you adhered to a strict code of poverty, you couldn’t survive in any environment with nothing but your body. He also wondered if the dolphins were curious about life outside the water or contemplate what life must be like sailing on a boat. All this thought was suddenly brought to an end when Diegert looked off the starboard gunwale and the school of dolphins was gone. Just as unexpectedly as they’d appeared, the group of fast-moving gray bodies had disappeared. He checked back again and again, but they were gone. The fleeting kinship left him feeling lonely again.

  Barney resurfaced, but Diegert didn’t tell him about the dolphins.

  “You’ve really learned to handle her well. We’re making good progress, skipper.”

  Barney’s compliment got a big smile out of Diegert and went a long way toward reestablishing their camaraderie. “It’s OK that we’re so close to shore?”

  “Yes, the waters are deep. Plus, the hot air rising off the land draws in the cool air from the ocean, producing these powerful winds that are ushering us up the coast.”

  “I didn’t realize that, but it makes sense.”

  Barney stretched out the map to show Diegert that they were only about fifty miles from rounding the Horn of Africa at Cape Guardafui They would soon be in the Gulf of Aden as they continued making progress on the powerful offshore winds.

  21

  After rounding the Horn of Africa, the strong westerly winds guided the Sue Ellen across the Gulf of Aden and into the smaller Gulf of Tadjoura, where she made port at the city of Djibouti. Going ashore for the first time in so many days was a refreshing experience for both men. Being able to pace more than a few feet awakened muscles and joints to ranges of motion not possible on the boat. The central market was a crowded and busy place, but it gave the two mariners an opportunity to buy fresh fruit and meat. Barney was negotiating for a leg of goat while Diegert was inspecting mangoes. The stalls were full of produce, some of it delicious looking and enticing while other vendors’ wares were rotting on the stands. A very friendly vendor stepped out from behind his stand to shake Diegert’s hand. The two did not share a common language, but their smiles spoke for them. The friendly man brought Diegert over to his juice bar. The vendor’s stall had a counter at the front, and the man had several electric blenders on his work area in the back. Hanging from the ceiling were nets filled with fruit.

  A very pretty dark-skinned young lady indicated that she would make a juice drink with whatever fruits he chose. This woman had a dazzling smile and perfectly straight white teeth. Diegert enjoyed the twinkle in her eyes that glimmered each time she smiled. He couldn’t understand a word she said, even though she spoke French as well as her native language.

  Diegert just kept smiling.

  The young lady eventually selected the fruits for him, cut them up, and blended them into a thick, juicy beverage. Even before his first sip, the tropical aroma of the blended juices tantalized Diegert’s nostrils. When he sipped the drink, it was exquisite both in flavor and texture. His enjoyment of the drink was obvious to its creator, and she touched him on his forearm, communicating that she understood his pleasure. Diegert finished the entire drink, paid the pretty lady way too much, and happily kept looking back at her as he walked on through the market.

  Barney had gotten some grains that could be made into porridge on the boat and had also filled their fuel cans. He had negotiated for the leg of goat to be cooked and he would pick it up later. Diegert had purchased two-dozen eggs and a bag of flatbread. The two shoppers rejoined at one of the nightclubs that served lunch during the afternoon. Over their meal of hummus, sprouts, and goat meat wraps Barney laid out his plan to stay in port one night and sail into the Red Sea tomorrow. That plan was fine with Diegert, who was curious to see if Saturday nights in Djibouti were anything like those in the States. After finishing their food, they drank a couple more beers and observed all the activity of the market from their café seats.

  “I had a juice drink from the vendor just down there by the corner. It was great, and the girl at the shop was real friendly.”

  “When you’ve got money to spend, everyone here is friendly.”

  “I know, but I recommend their juice drinks.”

  “I’m going to go get our leg of goat, and I will meet you at the dock so we can take our stuff to the boat. You can stay on the boat tonight if you want, but I’m going to stay in a room here in town.”

  “Really?”

  “That berth I sleep on may look comfortable, but tonight I’m going to sleep in a big bed with clean sheets on a solid floor.”

  “OK, I’ll be on the boat.”

  When they returned from stowing their provisions, it was six p.m. The sun set fast in the tropics. When darkness fell, the markets closed, tarps were drawn, and some stalls even chained guard dogs in front of their businesses. The hustle and bustle of the vendors and shoppers was gone, but the volume of sound increased as the clubs started playing French and American rock music. Cars, trucks, and SUVs started pulling into places previously occupied by donkey carts. French and American military personnel from Camp Lemonnier flooded the strip of nightclubs to mix, mingle, party, and, for a lot of the guys, pay to get laid. Diegert recognized the camaraderie of the guys as they swaggered into the bars and were as loud and boisterous as they wanted to be. Having worked on base all week, it was time to cut loose.

  In addition to the gaggles of partiers, there was also the familiar MP jeeps. The Military Police had the assignment of ensuring that, although the peace may be disturbed, it was not destroyed. Mickey’s seemed to be the bar of choice for the first arrivals.

  Diegert thought back to times when he and his squad mates got to go on leave from Fort Hood. They would drive to Austin and help the city fulfill its request to “Keep Austin Weird.” They would dance with girls and get rejected. They would get in fights and get arrested by the police who would call the MPs and turn them over. What fun to be young, off duty, and out with fr
iends with a handful of dollars to drink. Even though these guys were Navy, Diegert was drawn to hang out with them and have some fun. His hair was kind of long, and he wasn’t clean shaven, but that shouldn’t matter. He hoped he would be welcomed since he was American and a long way from home.

  Barney had rented a room from one of the cheaper hotels away from the waterfront. A view of the water was nothing special to him, and he was more concerned with the quiet for his night’s sleep. Of course, Barney was lonely too—lonely for female companionship, and for a price, any guy could pay a woman to spend the night with him. Barney took a center barstool at Mickey’s and started drinking whiskey fast and hard. Soon several Ethiopian women were vying for his attention and using the simple English they knew along with their smiles and plunging necklines to seduce him into making a selection. Barney was the happy king of his own pathetic harem.

  When Diegert walked in, he caught sight of Barney and his competing concubines. He shook his head, stepped to the far end of the bar, and ordered a beer. When the bottle was served, the young man was soon also surrounded by willing women who wanted to be his for a cheap price. Diegert did not engage them and instead walked over to observe the game being played on the pool table. The Navy men controlled the table as their regular turf. They were drinking beer and were largely ignored by the ladies of the night. Diegert stood leaning against a chest-high counter with his beer in hand. After performing several impressive shots, one of the sailors stood next to Diegert.

  “Nice shooting,” Diegert said.

  “Thanks. What are you doing here? I didn’t think there was a cruise ship in port.”

  “I’m not on a cruise.”

  “Well, what brought you here? We don’t see many American tourists.”

  Diegert offered his hand. “Gary Nelson, I’m on a sailing vessel heading for the Mediterranean, but I used to be in the Army.”

  “Don’t say that too loud.” Taking Diegert’s hand, the Navy man introduced himself. “I’m Andrew Clark, but people call me Clarky. My buddies and I are stationed at Camp Lemonnier.”