by Chase Austin
The normality of the house puzzled him; the gleaming surfaces, the tidiness, the homey touches, the sense that a person was still there who might walk in daylight on any street and pass for human despite the atrocities that he had committed.
Don't think about it. Keep moving.
Upstairs, the music had started again, but it was more muted in the kitchen than the living room. The noise of the running shower, though, was more apparent in the kitchen than in the living room, because the pipes were channeled through the rear wall of the old house. The water being drawn upward to the bathroom made an urgent, hollow, rushing sound through copper. Furthermore, the pipe wasn't tied down and insulated as well as it ought to have been, and at some point, along its course it vibrated against a wall stud: rapid knocking behind plasterboard. If that noise stopped abruptly, he would know that his safe time in the house was limited. In the subsequent silence, he could count on no more than a minute or two of grace while Majeed toweled off. Thereafter he might show up anywhere.
There was a door in the living room, under stairs. Wick turned the knob as quietly as he could and stepped inside with caution. Beyond lay a combination laundry and storage room: a washer, an electric dryer, boxes and bottles of laundry supplies were stored in an orderly fashion on two open shelves, and the air smelled of detergent and bleach.
The rush of water and the knocking pipe were even louder here than they had been in the kitchen. To the left, past the washer and dryer, was another door—rough pine, painted lime green. He opened it and saw stairs leading down to a basement. Wick’s heart began to beat faster.
“There's a cellar here. I’m going down,” he whispered.
Olivia and Elijah acknowledged in whispers.
Wick descended the stairs deliberately. The steps ended at a mid-sized hall with three doors.
He scanned the three doors closely. A sliver of light showed from under the one farthest from him. He decided to check the other two first. He opened the nearest door. It was dark within and Wick used the pencil flashlight over his Glock to search the room. It was empty.
He did the same with the other. Again, nothing. That left only one room.
“Last room in the basement. I’m going in. Over,” he whispered in the mic.
Wick turned the knob slowly, careful not to make any sound, and pushed the door open. It swung inward. A man was standing with his back towards Wick, his buttocks gyrating. The man was oblivious that someone had entered the room. Wick’s gun was pointed at the back of his head.
Wick took this opportunity to quickly scan the rest of the room to see if anyone else was lurking in the darkness. Behind him, the door clicked shut on its own. The sound alerted Majeed who turned. As soon as his eyes met the barrel staring at him, his face lost color. But he wasn’t alone. From behind Majeed a pair of fearful, misty eyes also stared at the gun.
CHAPTER 19
As soon Wick entered the room, he had sensed that Majeed wasn’t alone. He was naked and his actions meant he had company.
It wasn’t unusual for Wick to find his targets in vulnerable positions. Most of the time, the strike was planned that way, but sometimes he bumped into situations he hadn't envisioned. This was one of them.
He walked diagonally to get a fuller view of the person behind Majeed. He stopped in his tracks when he saw who it was.
Wick had expected a girl, but this girl was just a child. Possibly aged between four and five. Standing naked, her eyes full of terror, behind Majeed. No one said anything. Wick stared at the child in disbelief.
Majeed saw an opportunity in the intruder’s shock and jumped towards the other side of the bed. Wick sensed the movement a second later, instinctively moved his shooting hand in that direction and opened fire. The girl screamed, ducking to the floor. The bullets missed their target by millimeters.
Majeed’s body touched the floor and his fingers closed around the AK-47 lying on the table near where he had landed. Wick had little time to think. The girl had put him off balance. He saw the weapon in Majeed’s hand and pressed the trigger. His Glock coughed twice. The 9mm bullet pierced the soft tissues of Majeed’s right palm.
Majeed jerked his hand back and yelled in pain. Wick covered the ground between them in a single stride and grabbed the AK-47. His Glock never left sight of Majeed. The suppressor had kept the noise at a minimum.
Wick checked his watch. Twenty-three seconds to go.
CHAPTER 20
“Who are you?” Majeed cried looking at Wick.
Wick said nothing, looking at him with disgust. Wick raised his left hand and Majeed’s unhurt hand instinctively covered his locket that had the pen drive.
“If you are American, then you cannot kill me. I am with you guys.”
In his anger, Wick couldn’t say anything.
“Believe me, you do not want to kill me. Call your boss. Ask them. They will vouch for me,” Majeed stuttered through sobs, clutching his right hand.
“Who is on the second floor?”
“Second floor?”
“In the shower?”
“Farhad, maybe. I don’t know.” Majeed was surprised at the question.
“He can’t be.” Wick was sure about that.
“Why?” Majeed asked.
“Elijah, check the first floor,” Wick said into the mic. “Who’s the girl?” Wick ignored Majeed’s question.
“I don’t know. Farhad brought her. I don’t know, where is he?”
“I killed him.”
“You… you killed Farhad?” Majeed’s eye widened with shock. “I can give you the information. There is an attack planned in DC.”
“When?”
“On the fifth day from now.”
“Where in DC?”
“Multiple targets.”
“Keep talking.”
“A few months ago, I got an assignment to prepare for a chemical attack in the capital,” Majeed started to blabber nonstop. Wick kept listening in rapt silence, one eye on the child who was cowering in fear near the bed.
“Assignment from whom?” he asked when Majeed stopped speaking.
“I don’t know. I spoke with a man on my secure line.”
“That's not enough.”
“I told you everything that I know.”
Majeed’s face was flushed. Wick knew Majeed knew more than he was telling.
Wick looked at the girl who had stopped crying and was now looking at the two men.
“Where are your clothes?” Wick asked her.
She pointed at the table on which the assault rifle was placed. Wick grabbed them and threw them to her.
“Wear them. Go outside and wait for me.”
With her little fingers she wrapped herself in the clothes. At her age, she was quite deft at the handling herself. She got up and left the room. The door closed behind her.
“Take her,” Majeed said, desperately. “She is good. I know…”
It was the wrong thing to say. Something inside Wick snapped, and his trigger finger fired a round into the Majeed’s skull before the latter could even finish his sentence. There was no blood, no guts, no graphic explosion of gore. Just a well-placed shot that crumpled his body, killing him instantly.
CHAPTER 21
By killing the target, he was supposed to bring home alive, Wick had already ruined the mission, but personally he suddenly found the peace he had been seeking earlier.
He hurriedly scanned the space and checked the only wardrobe in the room. Majeed’s naked body lay motionless on the floor. Wick took out his cell phone and captured the image of Majeed’s dead body. He then filmed the room along with the dead body. Then grabbed the only thing that was on Majeed’s naked body – the shiny locket. He stuffed anything useful he could find in the room into his pockets. There wasn’t much. It was a bare room with just the bed and wardrobe.
He checked his watch; he was already a minute over the deadline. He came out of the room and found the girl waiting for him.
He heard foots
teps. “Elijah, is that you? Over,” he said, his gun pointing at the stairs.
“Affirmative. Over,” Elijah’s voice said over the earpiece.
Elijah appeared in the hallway. Wick lowered his gun as soon his eyes met Elijah’s. Elijah followed suit. Looking at the girl, Elijah immediately realized that the mission had gone off-script, but he said nothing. This was not the time for questions. It was time to move.
“Rest of the building is clear.” Elijah confirmed.
“We’re leaving.” Wick ordered.
“Where is Majeed?” Elijah asked.
“Dead,” Wick responded. Along with Elijah, everyone else listening gasped at the information. Capture him alive—that had been their strict directive.
“Esm e shoma chist?” Wick asked the girl’s name in Farsi, his calm voice belying the fact that he had just disobeyed direct orders by killing the man he had been ordered to bring home alive.
“Hiba,” the girl responded.
“Where are you from? Shoma ahleh koja hastid?”
Hiba didn’t answer this time.
“Where is your mother?” Wick changed the question, again speaking in Farsi.
She pointed above.
“Let’s take you to your mother.” Wick offered her his hand. She clutched his fingers tightly, and they walked towards the stairs.
“Logan, approach the house. Over,” Wick whispered in his earpiece.
“On it. Over,” Logan responded.
Once the three emerged from the door, they found Olivia waiting for them. She looked at Hiba but said nothing. The moonlit night was calm. Hiba looked confused. Her mother was nowhere in sight. She looked back at Wick with moist eyes. Wick didn’t know what to do with the girl. No one did.
Logan stopped the minivan near the house. Hiba looked at Wick with curiosity.
“We need to find your mother. He will help us.” Wick spoke in Farsi, pointing at Logan behind the wheel.
Hiba got inside. Wick followed and closed his door.
Elijah and Olivia got into the van next. Logan pressed the pedal and the van moved forward.
“Who is she?” Logan asked finally.
“Hiba,” Elijah replied.
“Where is her family?” Logan asked.
“She doesn’t know,” Elijah replied.
Olivia stared at Wick who was unusually quiet, keenly checking the locket, the photos and the documents he had recovered from Majeed’s room. The girl was sitting close to him, watching everyone in the van with curiosity. The team had a lot of questions about what had happened in the building, but this was not the time and place. The priority now was taking the girl to someone or someplace safe, if not her mother. Although this was not the mission they had planned, Wick had left them with no other option.
“We can leave her outside one of the nearby houses and let them call the police,” Elijah suggested. Logan and Olivia nodded. Hiba looked at Wick who was staring out of the minivan. She knew they were talking about her but unable to understand English.
“Wick, you concur?” Olivia asked.
Wick didn’t respond. His mind was racing, thinking of ways he could help Hiba find her family and handle Majeed’s death. He had not thought this through when he’d killed Majeed, but he knew he could not take the girl with him. She belonged here, and he belonged nowhere.
“Logan, stop the vehicle.”
“What happened?”
“Elijah, you take the wheels. I need Logan to do something.” Wick’s voice had an urgency that brooked no dissent.
Logan stopped the minivan and got out. A couple of minutes later the minivan was again in motion with Elijah at the wheel.
“Get me the cell number of someone from the UNICEF Office in Tehran, someone who deals with homeless or lost kids. Also, I need an email for all the news channels and newspapers in Iran.”
“What email?”
“Thinking on it. You got the number?”
“Almost,” Logan said.
“Olivia, you find the office address of the Tehran-PressTV channel. We'll leave her there.”
Olivia didn’t know what was going on in Wick’s mind, but she checked the GPS. The office was a thirty-minute drive from their current position.
“Now I need you to send two emails from two masked servers, spaced thirty-one minutes from each other. The first email on Hiba will go to Tehran PressTV. The second email on Majeed’s death will go to all news channels.” Taking the number from Logan, Wick said “Write this in the email: ‘Majeed was shot dead by masked men a few minutes ago. I’ll send a video soon.’ Then attach this photo in the email. This will go second.” He sent the photo of Majeed that he took after killing him. “Now, in the first email, write: ‘A girl is waiting at the reception of your building. She is looking for her family. Please help her to unite with her family. The world is watching you. Allah is watching you.’ Save these two emails. I’ll tell you when to send the first one. The second one should be triggered after thirty-one minutes. And use Majeed’s full name.”
Logan, Olivia and Elijah looked surprised. What video proof was Wick talking about? Logan kept typing. Once sure of the email’s language he showed it to Wick who made a few changes and then saved the draft. He would send it when the time was right.
Hiba was beginning to look sleepy. In the comfortable temperature inside the van, she had temporarily forgotten that her mother was not with her. Yet all this while she had not left Wick’s arm. Her tiny little fingers had an unusually tight grip that surprised Wick.
After traveling for more than thirty minutes, the four-wheeler stopped opposite the building where the Tehran-PressTV office was located. The street was deserted but the office lights were still on. The news never stops, be it any country. Wick quickly scribbled something on a piece of paper.
Olivia opened the door on her side and, before getting out of the van, covered her face and head. Wick did the same before getting out with Hiba. He knew these buildings could have CCTVs.
The cold night air had woken Hiba, and she looked at the building with childlike curiosity. Standing on the cold deserted street, she looked up at Wick. She was scared, but not as much as before. Looking at her, no one could say that she had just been rescued from such a traumatic experience.
Wick crossed the street with Hiba. Olivia remained in place.
The building’s entrance was deserted too, but the well-lit reception area meant that people were still there.
“Wait here. Someone will come and take you to your mother,” Wick told Hiba in Farsi. She nodded. There was no resistance from her. Perhaps she too sensed she could go no further with her savior. This was where they had to part ways. Olivia, too, was watching Hiba with surprise. Her composure and her understanding of the situation at this tender age was amazing. She had been worried that the girl would create a ruckus and it would be difficult to leave her anywhere without attracting unwanted attention, but it appeared she had been wrong.
Wick took out his burner cell and called the city’s emergency social service hotline number–123. He reported that a girl child was stranded away from her family and was currently at the Tehran-PressTV office. That is where they had found the girl. The operator assured them that two people from his team would reach the spot within thirty minutes. Wick then dialed the number of the local police station and repeated the same story about Hiba. The officer on the phone initially showed reluctance to do anything at this time of the night, but as soon as Wick mentioned the address of Tehran-PressTV, the officer agreed to reach the venue within minutes. The police and the media had always been strange bedfellows. Their hatred towards each other was matched only by their need of each other. Wick didn’t stop there; his next call was to the man in the UNICEF office in Tehran at the number Logan had given him. The man picked up the phone and promised immediate action. As soon as Wick disconnected the phone, Hiba asked, “What is your name?”
Wick hesitated. She kept her gaze at him. “Samuel,” he said.
“S
amuel!” she repeated and smiled. He smiled back.
Olivia came from behind and nudged him to move. Once people started coming, everything would start going downhill. Wick knew the risks.
“Go and stand there,” he said to Hiba, pointing at the reception table. Hiba turned and looked at the place, then turned back. “Knock on that table like this.” He showed her how to do it. “Someone will come and take you with them. They will show you on TV and your mother will come to get you. Don’t be scared, I will be watching you. You’ll be safe.” Wick gave a genuine smile. Hiba smiled back, trusting the man who had rescued her. He put the paper he had scribbled on a few moments ago in her hand and closed her fist so she wouldn’t lose it. He then nudged her, and she walked towards the reception, occasionally turning around to see if Wick was still there. Wick whispered in his mic, “Send the email on Hiba.”