If the Devil Had a Dog

by T. K. Lukas

  They hurried to the kitchen to meet Markus as he came through the door. He stood in the entryway and kicked off his shoes, a dark, unreadable expression on his face. He smiled and said “Hello,” but his expression remained aloof.

  “Are you okay?” Sidney asked, pressing a hand to his cheek.

  “I am. Come here.” He took her by the wrist and pulled her close, enfolding her in a tight embrace. He pressed his lips against the top of her head.

  Sidney wound her arms around his waist and rested all her weight against his body. She moved in rhythm with his chest as it rose and fell with each breath. Speaking softly, she asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No.”

  “I’m here if you do.”

  “Everything’s good.” Markus glanced at Trevor who stood at the sink. “It figures you’d take one of my favorite T-shirts.”

  The black shirt had the U.S. Marine Corps logo on the front, and on the back, a slogan that read, “Nobody ever drowned in sweat.” A size too small, it accentuated Trevor’s muscular physique. “I may give it back to you someday. Thanks for the loan—and jeans, too.”

  “Glad I could assist.” Markus took Sidney’s face in his hands and kissed her mouth. Then, holding her at arm’s length, he ran his hands up and down her arms, studying her face.

  Trevor cleared his throat. “I’m feeling a bit like a voyeur. Should I leave you two alone?”

  “Sorry, Trevor. No—unfortunately.” Markus took Sidney by the hand and led her to the table, motioning for Trevor to follow. “I say unfortunately because we have a lot to talk about and not much time to prepare.”

  “Prepare for what?” asked Sidney, taking the chair that Markus pulled out.

  “For exfiltration. Moose and his team are here now, tidying things up. When they’re through with what they have to do, I’ve been given the go-ahead to get y’all out of here.”

  “We’re leaving tonight instead of tomorrow?” Sidney pushed down a wave of anxiety that made breathing difficult. This is a good thing, leaving. So why am I anxious?

  “Yes. The sooner, the better.”

  “We heard the chopper land,” said Trevor, pouring the remaining coffee into three cups. “How much time do we have?”

  “Probably an hour, at best. As soon as Moose calls and gives me the all clear, we’re heading to the arena where the helicopter is waiting. There’ll be a short flight to El Paso. A doctor there will see to your arm. The next morning, a jet will be waiting at Fort Bliss for a zero seven hundred hours departure for the next leg—a flight to Langley. Last leg is another short helicopter ride to the Farm.”

  “The Farm?” Trevor set his cup down on the table and leaned forward. “As in, Camp Peary, the CIA training facility?”

  “That’s the place.”

  “You do have friends in high places. I wonder who they are.” Trevor downed the rest of his coffee, drumming his fingers on the empty cup.

  “There are a few safe houses established on the grounds,” said Markus, sidestepping Trevor’s remark. “The FBI has been notified and they’ll take things over once the CIA is finished with their debriefing.”

  “And then what?” Sidney’s mind reeled. “CIA. FBI. Safe houses. This seems like a movie, and I should be watching it, not living it. But—”

  “But you are, and this is real.” Markus said matter-of-factly. “The FBI will brief you on the witness protection program, in case that option is necessary, and I think it is. It won’t be forever, just until the dust settles and all the bad guys are behind bars.”

  Markus’s cellphone vibrated in his back pocket. Glancing at the caller ID, he said, “Go ahead, Moose.”

  The short conversation was loud enough for Sidney to hear clearly. Referring to Markus as “Dragon,” Moose instructed him to have the witnesses ready to depart in thirty minutes, with Markus’s succinct, monotone reply of “Roger that” delivered rapid-fire.

  He met Sidney’s penetrating gaze, holding it. “We don’t have an hour after all—just half that. We’ve been given our marching orders. Pack one suitcase. Quickly.”

  “Dragon?” Her eyebrows arched upward. That explained the tapestry, the sign hanging above the entry gate, and the tattoo on his hip.

  “My code—my former code name. We all have—I had one when… Hell, that’s a conversation for another day.” Impatient, Markus pushed back from the table. His chair toppled to the floor behind him. Setting it upright, he snapped, “Better start packing.”

  “Who will take care of Mocha?” Sidney called out as she hurried up the stairs.

  “Victor. Otto. Heidi and Dieter will help. She’ll be in good hands,” Markus called back.

  Turning away from the table, Markus almost bumped into Trevor who was standing with his arms folded across his chest, despite the sling. “Are you going to tell me what’s really going on? I’m not talking about divulging classified information or top-secret BS. I’m talking about telling it to me straight—Dragon.”

  “There’s nothing to tell.”

  “I disagree.”

  Markus paused, letting his breath out slowly. “That I worked for the CIA is unclassified. Dragon was my code name when I was part of a special division. Code names have a way of sticking to you for life. The rest—is classified. Now you know all you need to know, or, all I can tell you. I’m going to help Sidney pack. You need to get busy, too.” Markus tried to ease past, but Trevor stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

  “I have a lot at stake here—a mother and two brothers to consider. Witness protection program? I didn’t ask for this.”

  “Neither did I when I agreed to help Sid, based on your email,” he said through gritted teeth. “Sid didn’t ask for this, either. But here we all are, in the same damn boat, dealing with it as best we can.”

  Markus and Trevor stood toe-to-toe, neither giving ground. Both men drew in deep breaths through their nostrils, puffing out their chests, forcefully expelling the air like two bulls in a standoff. Tension crackled the air between them as they waited for the other to speak first. After a long moment, Trevor took a slight step back.

  “This is crazy. My mother needs me. I can’t do this—this witness protection program.” He cradled his damaged arm against his stomach as he turned to leave. “I won’t do it.”

  “It’s not a forced program. It’s voluntary.” Markus’s words hung in the air as Trevor stomped up the stairs, Gunner at his side.

  *****

  With Sidney’s suitcase in hand, Markus hurried out the door. Placing it into the back of the Jeep, he noticed that Trevor’s backpack was already loaded. He glanced around to see him standing in the driveway, looking up at the midnight sky.

  “The stars seem so bright out here. Like when I was a kid, and my dad would take us camping out at Possum Kingdom Lake.” Trevor walked over and leaned against the Jeep. “Man, that feels like so long ago.”

  Markus leaned against the Jeep next to Trevor. “Out here, you can actually see the Milky Way.”

  “Yeah—there it is.” Trevor pointed to the constellation.

  “How’s your arm?”

  “It’s been better.” Trevor tugged at the sling, tightening the neck band.

  “The flight surgeon will take a look at it when you land in El Paso.”

  “I remember you saying that.”

  “Right.”

  “Hey, I want to apologize for earlier.” Trevor shot a sidelong glance at Markus. “I’m sorry I lost my cool.”

  “Apology accepted, but it’s not necessary. I understand. And I’m sorry you’re in this situation. Like you said, the situation is crazy. But I’m doing my damnedest to un-crazy it, if you will.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Trevor asked.

  “By that, I mean to pay a visit to Fort Worth, to a certain prick named Winston Knight. I want to be the one to see his sorry ass go down.”

  “Sounds to me like this has become personal.”

  “It has become very personal.
And, please keep this between us. I don’t want Sidney to know about it—it would only add to her worry.”

  “I won’t say anything.” Trevor nodded toward the back of the Jeep. “I noticed you loaded only one suitcase. I’m assuming you’re not coming with us but are headed straight to Fort Worth.”

  “That’s right. But I’ll meet up with y’all as soon as I can.”

  “What does Sidney think about you not coming?”

  “I haven’t told her yet.”

  Trevor raised his eyebrows. “Not that it’s any of my business, but, why not?”

  “That’s a good question. Maybe I’m just a coward.” Maybe I just don’t want to say goodbye.

  At that moment, Sidney stepped out the door. “I guess I’m ready. You two look like you’re in deep conversation.”

  “Deep and getting deeper.” Trevor opened the back door, letting Gunner and Rex hop in. “I’ll ride with the dogs this time.”

  “May we stop at the barn so I can say goodbye to Mocha?” Sidney slid into the front seat. “I’ll make it quick. I know we’re in a hurry.”

  “Not too big of a hurry that we can’t stop at the barn. I’ll be right back. I need to lock up.” As he sprinted up the steps to set the alarm, he decided he would tell her at the barn that he wouldn’t be joining the flight out. He’d wait until she’d said goodbye to her horse. But, no matter where he told her, it wasn’t going to be easy.

  Markus drove the half-mile stretch to the barn in quiet thought. He reached for Sidney’s hand and caressed it with his thumb as his mind considered how she’d take the news. He slowed the jeep as he neared the barn.

  Sidney stared at the paddock, fixing in her mind the sight of Mocha grazing and nipping at the short grass around the water trough. “Don’t stop. I can’t do it.”

  “Why don’t you want to stop?” Markus asked, shifting the gears into park. “Don’t you want to say goodbye?”

  “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to tear myself away, once I got my hands on her.”

  “Are you sure?” He could sympathize—he was having similar thoughts.

  Turning to face him, she nodded, “Yes. I’m sure. I’ll let this morning’s time I spent with her be my last goodbye. Please, keep driving.”

  “If that’s what you wish.” So much for telling her at the barn. He shifted into drive, easing back onto the lane leading to the arena where the Black Hawk had begun running up its engines.

  Rounding the curve as it swept past the tree line, he pulled alongside the fence, stopping short of the gate. He saw the crew doing their pre-flight checks, while Moose and his team stood off to the side, heads together in conversation.

  “Well. Here we are.” Markus stepped out and slammed the car door harder than he’d meant to. He hurried to retrieved the luggage from the rear compartment and then set the suitcase and backpack on the ground. “I’ll have Moose load these in the chopper,” he said as Trevor approached.

  “I can handle my backpack. Don’t think I can load the suitcase.” Trevor paused before adding, “Good luck with your mission in Fort Worth. I’d offer my help, but…”

  Markus gripped Trevor’s shoulder. “I appreciate that. I do. I’ll be in touch.”

  Trevor slung his backpack over his shoulder, wincing slightly. He sprinted toward the helicopter, Gunner on his heels. When Rex tried to follow, Markus put him in the back seat, giving the “stay” command. The dog sat with his head out the window and watched until the pair disappeared from view into the belly of the helicopter.

  “You’ll be in touch?” Sidney asked as she approached Markus. She stared at him, wrapping her arms around herself. “I don’t understand.”

  “Moose is escorting you to El Paso. Once there, two CIA agents will join Moose and the team to escort you to Virginia.”

  “But, I… I thought you were coming,” she stammered. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

  Markus took her in his arms. “I don’t know why not. I guess because I suck at goodbyes.”

  Sidney pushed away from his embrace. “But, why aren’t you coming? And, what personal mission was Trevor referring to?”

  He wavered on what to say, what to tell her. There was nothing he could say, except, “You’re going to be safe, and everything will be fine. I’ll meet you in Virginia as soon as I can.”

  “You’re avoiding my questions.” She took a few steps back, once again wrapping her arms around herself, as if creating a barrier.

  A shrill whistle sounded. Moose approached at a jog, waving his arm and motioning them over. “Time to go,” he barked, his voice competing with the whirring of the rotors.

  “Grab this suitcase,” Markus shouted, handing the case to Moose. “give us just a second here.”

  “Don’t take too long. We need to get this bird in the air.” Moose hurried off toward the helicopter.

  Markus turned back to Sidney. “I’m not avoiding your questions. I just have some unfinished business I need to take care of.”

  “And you won’t—can’t tell me what it is.”

  “No. Not yet. This is one of those other times I mentioned earlier when I would need you to trust me.”

  “At what point do you start trusting me with the truth?”

  Markus stood rooted in place. Saying nothing. Conveying nothing. How could he ever tell her the truth about his life? Some things were untellable.

  Sidney stared at him for a long moment in an apparent quandary over what to say. Several times, she opened her mouth to speak, but the words were not forthcoming. Stepping further away, shaking her head, she stammered, “I… No… I can’t… Goodbye…” She turned and ran toward the helicopter’s open doors.

  “Sidney—please!” Markus ran several strides after her, but stopped short. He watched Moose help her inside, and he stood transfixed as Sidney stared from the window at him. Markus waved—a half-salute, half-grasp of air before clenching his fist and letting his arm fall to his side. Sidney sat in the window, unmoving, not returning the wave. Backing away, Markus slung one arm over his eyes to shield them as the helicopter lifted off in a cloud of blowing sand.

  CHAPTER 27

  Alpine & Fort Worth

  After pouring a brandy, Markus retreated into the coolness of his safe-room. Opening his email, he scanned through a few miscellaneous messages and made notes of things he’d need to take care of before leaving tomorrow for Fort Worth. He sent an email to Otto, asking him to come pick up Rex and watch him for a few days. The next was sent to Victor, asking if he’d feel up to starting his barn manager duties first thing tomorrow and taking over his hunting clients that would be showing up the day after Thanksgiving.

  He received an immediate reply from Victor. The message read, “hell yes,” and that he was bored to death. He and Aubrey were planning on coming out in the morning anyway to see her horse.

  As Markus was replying with a list of specific instructions, an email from his contact in the Company popped up in the inbox. He opened the mail. The message was cryptic, saying only “Call ASAP.”

  He retrieved the flip phone from the locked box. “Yes? What is it?” he asked, a knot tightening his gut.

  “It’s not good news, I’m afraid.”

  “Is it about Sidney?”

  “No. It’s about her cousin, Jessica. She was found murdered in her home earlier this evening.”

  “Fuck.” Markus downed the last sip of brandy. “How?”

  “Wire garrote—rag stuffed in her mouth—hands tied behind her back. Sound familiar?”

  “All too. Damn it—why wasn’t anybody watching her? I specifically told you that she and her husband might be in danger.”

  “I made a formal request for an agent to be assigned to them. My request is stuck in the bureaucratic chain of command.”

  “Jesus Christ. I hope you or someone else can get it unstuck. Where’s her husband now?”

  “Still at police headquarters. He’s the one who came home and found her.”

  “Ali
bi?”

  “Tight. He was in meetings all day with clients. They’ve confirmed.”

  “All right. Well, get an agent assigned to him ASAP.”

  “I’m working on it.”

  “I’d highly recommend not telling Sidney about this until she’s landed safely in Virginia. Moose and team have just exfiltrated her and Trevor to El Paso not thirty minutes ago.”

  “I’ll pass your recommendation along. I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”

  “Are Winston Knight’s phones tapped? Anyone watching him?”

  “Affirmative on both.”

  “Good. I’ll be checking in regularly for updates on his activity. I’m leaving for Fort Worth tomorrow and want to arrange a surprise meeting. I’ll fill you in on the details when I’m on the road. Anything else for me?”

  “That’s all I’ve got. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

  “Yeah—you know what usually happens to the messenger.”

  Markus stared at his empty brandy glass, contemplated refilling it, but decided he wanted something stronger. After securing the room, he headed downstairs to the liquor cabinet.

  *****

  Fists pounding on the door and Rex’s loud barking awoke Markus from an alcohol-induced deep sleep. He rolled off the sofa and onto the floor, landing on his hands and knees. Who the hell could that be? Reaching for his pistol, he knocked over his scotch glass sitting on the coffee table, spilling the last sip he had been too drunk to drink.

  He tiptoed to the kitchen and peeked out the curtain. From that vantage point, he had full view of the driveway and of the porch leading to the side door. As he holstered his weapon, he told Rex to be quiet.

  “Hold on—be right there.” He stumbled to the door and then gestured with his arm to come inside. “Entréz, s’il te plait, Master Bates.”

  Elwood Bates followed him inside. “You okay? Looks like you’ve tied one on.”

  “Why do they say, “tied one on,” when there’s no tying involved—just—swallowing?”

  “Good question. I’ll Google it.” Elwood peered around Markus to see a half-empty bottle of scotch sitting on the table next to an overturned glass.