Masks of Ash

by Adrian J. Smith

  Masks of Ash

  Copyright © 2021 All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Thank you for purchasing this Great Wave Ink Publishing eBook.

  Contents

  Also by Adrian J Smith

  Acknowledgements

  About Masks of Ash

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Forty

  Forty-One

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Expect anything from anyone; the devil was once an angel.

  Drake Graham

  For all the people that risk their lives during the Covid-19 pandemic.

  The Police, Ambulance, Nurses, Doctors, Hospital staff, Supermarket staff, Border workers, Airline staff, Government employees and the countless others that kept us safe. A huge thank you. To my fellow New Zealanders. We were the team of five million. We stood together. We stood proud. Thank you.

  Also by Adrian J Smith

  EXTINCTION NZ SERIES:

  THE RULE OF THREE

  THE FOURTH PHASE

  THE FIVE PILLARS

  NAMELESS SERIES:

  WHISPERS OF ASH

  SHADOWS OF ASH

  MASKS OF ASH

  SILENCE OF ASH (COMING SOON)

  DARKNESS OF ASH (COMING SOON)

  Acknowledgements

  This series would not be possible without the following wonderful people:

  Lisa Omstead, Nathan Yokoyama, Nicholas Sansbury Smith, Karin De Vries, Daniel Arenson, France Liontakis, Sam Sisavath, Jacob Toye, Lee Murray, Brandon Swanson and Cheri Lesota.

  I’m sure there are some I’m missing. People that I pestered about life in the Armed Forces. I thank you all.

  The friendly people of Japan.

  My family for encouraging me along the way.

  Edited by Laurel C Kriegler, Alison Robertson, Nikki Crutchley.

  Cover Art. Deranged Doctor Design.

  About Masks of Ash

  EVERYONE WEARS THREE MASKS

  All retired operative Ryan Connors wanted was to live a life of solitude in Japan. He wanted to leave LK3, the extraction and espionage agency, and find peace in the thriving city of Tokyo. But nothing is ever easy. His old team – The Nameless – seek him out to use his skills to find the missing daughter of one of his dearest friends, Sofia. The yakuza attack and kidnap Sofia, thrusting Ryan back into the life he’d tried to leave behind.

  While following a lead near Osaka, a worldwide catastrophe occurs. Humans, cats and dogs self-combust and turn to ash. Even though he is desperate to get home to his daughter Zanzi, Ryan tracks down his missing friends, only to face the yakuza and a new foe – OPIS, a sinister organization whose motives are unclear. Two sides battle it out with Ryan and his team caught in the middle.

  To survive, and desperate for answers, Ryan makes a deal with the head of the Yamada clan – Touma Yamada.

  After stopping Offenheim from taking over Japan, Ryan and The Nameless think they are finished with the yakuza. They held up their end of the bargain and head home to America. But making deals with the devil is never simple. Ryan’s life, and those of his friends, become even more complicated as new enemies swarm from every direction as they struggle to rescue Touma’s son Takeshi. After learning of a second wave of combustion attacks, The Nameless launch a daring plan involving LK3’s spy satellites, which they control from a former NSA station in the Aleutian Islands.

  Now, as the dust settles, The Nameless are determined to make it home and join the fight to end OPIS once and for all.

  Ryan is tired of playing games. He’s not only defending his adopted country, but all of humanity.

  Prologue

  Near Erfurt, East Germany

  October, 1977

  Feldwebel Milo Ragalla stared across the dimly lit card table at the man he had to kill. He didn’t want to do it, if he had any choice. But choice, in his line of work, was hard to come by. As a Stasi – East Germany’s secret police – agent, Milo followed orders. Choice was a foreign concept reserved for those who lived free. Over the last few months, Milo had grown to like the man he was playing cards with, even to respect him. Felix was a fighter. A survivor. A man of intellect and guile. Strategic and pragmatic. He had to be, in his business smuggling contraband into East Germany and citizens out. To say that his lifestyle was dangerous was an understatement and, inevitably, that was why Milo was here.

  Milo glanced at the cards and contemplated his next move. It had become obvious a few turns ago that he was going to lose yet another round of Skat to his two opponents. He tossed in the ten of clubs. Felix chuckled and took his winnings off the table. To make things interesting, they were making bids with contraband cigarettes and whiskey from the West. The other player – a woman named Klara – cursed and threw her cards down. She jumped up, muttered something and walked across the basement floor. Odors were thick down here; earthy, mixed with stale sweat, nicotine smoke, ammonia and alcohol.

  “Good game, Felix,” Milo said.

  “Eh, you’ll beat me one day. Too many hours spent hiding in dark holes like this with nothing else to do.”

  Milo grunted and tidied the cards away. “Been doing this for a while, then?”

  “Too long. Probably before you were born.” Felix shook his head and looked away as if there was something interesting on the other side of the moldy basement.

  “You’re curious tonight, Milo.”

  “What can I say? I’m a curious guy.”

  Felix let out a weird sound that could have been a “Huh?” or a grunt, and said, “In this business, we have to be careful.” He placed his old Luger on the table with a thunk. “Lucky for you, Oskar vouched for you, and you’ve proven yourself handy over the last few months.” Felix leant forward, elbows on the small table. “This is something different tonight. Another level. If we get caught, they’ll execute us and leave our bodies for the crows. You willing to take that risk?”

  “Yes,” Milo said. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise. My sister deserves to be free, like we all should be.”

  “Good.” Felix grasped his shoulder.

  “Why do you risk everything?” Milo asked.

  “There you go with the questions again.”

  “Humor me.”

  “Same as anyone, really,” Felix said, relenting. He looked tired to Milo. Not so much in the way he sat or
his mannerisms. It was the way Felix watched him. Eyes that had seen too much pain and misery. Seen the worst of humanity for too long.

  “To provide for your family?” Milo probed.

  “A little.”

  “For the money?”

  “That helps, but no.”

  “What?”

  Felix sighed, his brow creasing so that his graying hairline moved forward. “You’re lucky, Milo, that you’re a young man. You weren’t alive for the dark times.”

  “These aren’t dark?” Milo said. “People disappearing in the night. Friends and family living in constant fear of being hauled off because of something they said in anger or in jest. Some taken away simply because their neighbors don’t like them.” He kicked out at some debris on the filthy concrete floor. “I spent a week in a Stasi cell for listening to a Western radio station. My own mother informed on me. She got extra food rations while they beat me. But I took that beating. Better me than my sister.”

  “I know your pain, Milo, but I’m talking about the war.” Felix looked over at Klara. She was busy packing her rucksack ready for the night’s mission. They were to meet a group of three and take them into West Germany via their secret route. A route Milo would learn for the first time that night.

  Felix looked back at Milo and held his gaze. “I was a boy of seven when war broke out. Our glorious Fatherland had invaded Poland, taking back what was rightfully ours. My family sat glued around the radio, listening to the reports. All seemed fine. Then the Party came for the Jews. Before I knew it, my best friend, my childhood companion – the boy I played football in the street with, thrown rocks into the lake with as we tried to sink a floating bottle – he and his family were shoved into the street, kicked, beaten, spat upon and taken away.” Felix blinked and wiped his sleeve across his mouth. “I never saw them again. It wasn’t until after the war that I found out the truth. My parents did what they could and were hanged for aiding a Jewish family. I was spared because I was living with another family near Dresden. I saw that city razed by the Allies.”

  “So you stayed to fight?” Milo asked. “Fight the communists.”

  “I had to. When the borders were drawn up, I saw an opportunity. A risky opportunity, but I saw firsthand the brutality of the Red Army. Communism.” Felix spat on the floor. “Communism doesn’t work because we need balance. You need rich and poor. Old and young. Sick and healthy. The system here is set up for corruption. The public have been sold a lie.”

  “Just like the Third Reich?” Milo said.

  Even though he was a Stasi agent and knew the party doctrine, could recite it, Milo’s mind was free. Free to dream and think. At least, he thought so. He had one purpose in life: to get his sister to freedom. If he died trying, then that was his fate. He was tired of seeing the misery around him. The lack of color, the smell of fear. Only the elite Party members were happy, living a better life. Which was why killing Felix was going to be so hard. Milo admired his principles. His beliefs.

  “Break this operation, Milo, and you will earn a promotion. A better apartment, a better school for Eva. Kill the leader,” Major Licht had ordered.

  “You don’t want to interrogate him?”

  “No. Execute him and string him up. Let him be an example.”

  “Very well.”

  That had been eighteen months ago. Since then, he had had little contact with his Stasi superiors. Milo had been as free as he could be. Now he didn’t want to go back. If it wasn’t for Eva, he wouldn’t.

  Felix was staring at him. “Yes, just like the Third Reich. East Germany has been fed propaganda and lies.”

  “And yet people don’t see it.”

  “They see it, Milo. They are too frightened to admit it.”

  Felix joined Klara, ending the conversation, and readied his own weapons and rucksack. They carried handguns and knives for emergencies only. Felix waved Milo over and they stood together at the top of the basement stairs, listening. The bar had long since closed but, as a precaution, they had waited until three in the morning.

  Felix’s steely blue eyes stared at Milo. “What we are about to do is extremely dangerous. If the Stasi see us, they will shoot to kill. My only advice is to not let them capture you. End it.” He pointed under his chin. “One bullet through here will do it.”

  Milo and Klara nodded.

  “Klara, you lead. Can you remember the way?”

  “Of course.”

  Her voice was raspy. Milo found her quite alluring. Another reason why he didn’t want to betray these people. He had tried not to become friends, but it had happened in a natural way. His beliefs and desires were aligned with theirs. Felix, Klara, all the members of this underground network, risked everything for one reason: people should be free.

  Did he have a choice, though? The Stasi would kill him and Eva if he disobeyed his orders.

  “Good,” Felix said. “I’ll guard our rear. Let’s go.”

  The streets of Tarbaz were deserted. The torrential rain of the past few weeks had stopped, and now a thick mist enveloped the houses and shops, making their task easier. Klara led them confidently to the edge of town, down alleyways that were centuries old, the flagstones rutted from years of use. She took them down steps and over railway tracks. Across canals and twisting through concrete playgrounds with sad swings. To avoid detection, they kept in the shadows and tied kerchiefs over their mouths. Under the watchful eyes of the Stasi, even your hot breath billowing out could give you away.

  Klara couched next to an old stable door and knocked once, then twice, then once again. The door creaked open an inch and a pair of eyes stared at them for a few seconds before the door opened fully.

  The three travelers, each carrying their own rucksack, hurried out into the misty night. They hopped from foot to foot and glanced nervously at Milo, Klara and Felix.

  They were all females, and young, maybe twenty for the eldest, late teens for the younger two. Milo had trouble judging ages. It depended on status. A wealthy person who had access to food, to medical treatment, and didn’t work was always going to look younger and healthier. It was simply a matter of fact.

  Milo didn’t need to ask them why they wanted to go West. It was obvious. Stay in East Germany and work in a factory. Deliver a few brats and serve the State like a good citizen should. Go over the border and you had the opportunity to do whatever you desired. Milo smiled inwardly; he saw the appeal. But for him, Feldwebel Milo Ragalla, Stasi undercover officer, Main Division (Huaptabteilung) VIII, he couldn’t embrace that life until he had completed his mission. His superiors had been after Felix and his operation for years. For the last eighteen months he had been undercover, working his way up through the ranks of Felix’s organization. Always willing to do what it took to get the contraband across the border. After earning their trust, Felix had asked Milo to join him on the riskiest operation they ran: smuggling citizens into West Germany. He had been doing it for years, right under the noses of one of the best secret police organizations in the world.

  Klara scouted ahead before giving the all-clear. This time she took a more direct route, quickly back through the joyless playground and down onto the railway tracks. The mist was still thick, so they remained undetected. Milo strained his ears but couldn’t detect the Stasi squad he knew would be close by. A tiny fraction of him wished they hadn’t got his communique. That he could follow the three females and not return. He shook away the thoughts. He had no choice. His baby sister depended on him.

  Klara brought them to a halt under a bridge and waited for a delivery truck to pass. Felix ran forward and took over as guide, beckoning Milo to join him.

  “I need to show you something on the way. It will illustrate plainly why I risk it all.”

  He turned and trudged into the forest, not saying another word. They walked for thirty minutes, stepping over rotting logs and bubbling brooks. Occasionally they would duck down, thinking they’d heard a sound, but each time it turned out to be nothing.
/>   They had a right to be fearful. Anywhere near the border was crawling with soldiers.

  Felix moved them up a steep hill and down the other side, into a cutting. The smooth, straight walls gave away that it was man-made. Milo kicked the soil and leaves off the rusty metal of a long-disused train track. On they went, now tucked out of sight as the cutting stretched toward the West and freedom.

  Another forty minutes, and the cutting ended abruptly. The walls had caved in and trees and shrubs had grown in its place. Up ahead, two hundred meters away, Milo spotted where the railway disappeared into the hill. Old railways like this were common, abandoned after the war and left to nature.

  Felix walked out onto the caved-in section and gestured for Milo to join him. “Look down. What do you see?”

  Milo looked around and shrugged his shoulders. “Grass, trees. Reclamation.”

  “Look closer.”

  Milo did as he was instructed. What was Felix talking about? All he could see were rocks and dirt. Grass and lumps. Lumps? He shifted some soil off the lump closest to him and flinched when a skull rolled out.

  “What the hell? What is this place?”

  “It’s the reason we continue to do what we are doing tonight,” Felix said.

  “Who were these people?”

  “Ordinary citizens like you and me. Like Klara. Like the three young women. They didn’t agree with the Party. I know of dozens of such graves.” Felix shook his head and whispered a prayer. “Any soul I save from this fate is worth all the risk in the world.”

  Once again, Felix turned and walked away. Milo was left reeling. As he looked around, taking better note of what he was looking at, he noticed that dozens, if not hundreds, of mounds littered the area. The Stasi had tried to cover up what they had done, but heavy rain and nature had exposed their dark secrets. People slaughtered and dumped in unmarked graves. No honor. No memorial for friends and family. Milo squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the image.

  Maybe Felix was right. Saving just one soul was worth everything.