by mike Evans
Mishler replied, “Yup in the mornin’ I see him. He stops by after he leaves for a few hours. I don't know what in the hell he is doing, but he leaves looking as clean as can be and by the time he comes back, that crazy son of a bitch is covered from head to toe in sweat and dirt and sometimes he’s soaking wet. I think that he goes and finds the shittiest places that he can go run through and that’s where he picks to do his working out. I just don’t understand why someone would do that to their body. I mean, who the hell would enjoy that? It ain’t like he has nothing to fear right?”
“So you see him after he gets his morning run in. Do you think -”
“Hell, I’ve seen people run, they got them shiny suits on and look like a bunch of dumbshits. This guy is running through the forest and the woods like he’s training for a war Mr. Director. He stops by here for a cup of coffee. I make him drink it outside or in the heated garage in the winter. He’s always so damn filthy and my wife would kick my ass if I ever let him in the house. I can hear her now. So do you want me to wait till tomorrow morning, or you want me to drive on down there and let him know? He doesn’t leave too much unless he needs food. The son of a bitch buys so much at a time that it isn’t too damn often that he leaves.”
“He doesn’t have a phone does he sir?”
“What use would he have for a phone? I’m his only friend, and he doesn’t seem to have a girlfriend. He kinda seems like he enjoys living a solitary life. I think that he’s been around people too much in his life or something. It’s hard to tell, if ya know what I mean.”
“If you could take a phone to him that would be wonderful. I’ll make sure that we reimburse you for your time. I have your address and can make sure that you are taken care of.”
Misher said, “Shit, I got a half hour to spare. He can use my phone free of charge. You don't need to reimburse me. Christ, I got over five thousand head of cattle; I don’t need your twenty dollars. My luck, a government spook like you probably is just gonna tax me on it ten different ways to Sunday until I end up owing you money. So does he have your number or you want me to put something on paper to give to him?”
Lincoln read his number off to him and sat patiently waiting for the phone to ring. When it did, he snatched it up saying, “Hello, this is Director Lincoln, is this Instructor Clary?”
“No, this is retired Instructor Clary, and if you guys need something, I'm busy. I'm retired, and I ain’t coming back for nothing, I got everything I need in the whole damn world right fucking here.”
Lincoln said, “Well it seems like your retirement is treating you just fine then isn’t it?”
“Better than when I was working and training those insane bastards how to do what they did. I’m just glad that I never had to worry about one of them coming back after me for any reason.”
“Well, actually that is what I'm calling about sir.”
“About one of them coming back after me, or after you?”
“Well so far, it’s been seven and we are pretty sure we know that it was one of your boys. I ran his file through and it came back as protected and that we don’t have the clearance to be able to look him up. I would like to send you a picture of the man and see if you recognize him. I know that you do not have a phone, but do you happen to have a computer, or a fax machine of some sort that I'm able to get a picture of the man sent to you?”
“Just cause I’m not listed doesn’t mean I don’t have a phone. I'm set up off the grid here Mr. Director. I just don’t have anyone that I need to talk to. I stop and talk to Mishler once a day and he usually knows damn near everything that is going on in town, other than that, I stay home and keep to myself. Once in a while, if I'm bored, I run after him and go work the cattle with him. It’s a hell of a ride with that son of a bitch in the truck, Jesus, does he beat the shit out of them. His little girl Morgan calls and orders him a new Chevy every year, all those dealers do is take the old one to the back lot and leave it to get towed away to Mexico, because that’s about the only place they stand a chance of selling it.”
Lincoln was shaking his head, he said, “So it would seem he taught you the art of small talk too. I never remember you as a big chatter. Where can I send you a picture? It’s a simple job, you know a guy, you don’t know a guy, and I’d like your professional opinion of course, if you can remember that far back.”
Clary snapped, “Just because I retired doesn’t mean that I'm stupid. I’ve worked my whole damn life and it was time to retire! When the recruits are getting faster than you, then that’s when you stop. I got out while I was still able to hold myself up. It’s important to have the respect of your class in cases like that, I'm sure that something you can appreciate. If they think that you are just teaching, but you can’t do the job, then well, that’s when you go up shit creek, you use this number to get ahold of me, just don’t make it a common thing. Email me the file at [email protected].”
“I can appreciate that. I’m sending through a photo as we speak, open it as soon as you can and get back to me with any notes you might have if you need a few minutes.”
“That might be a good idea. I've moved a lot of recruits in and out of that place. Sometimes their faces all run together to tell you the truth. I got your number, stand by.” Clary set the phone down and walked to his computer.
Mishler was still in the room, he’d almost completely forgotten about him by the time he was firing up his laptop. “Mishler, I know you aren’t a beer man, but there’s a cold Pepsi I keep in the fridge just for you if you can go grab me a cold one.”
Mishler came walking back a minute later carrying a beer and his Pepsi. He took a seat next to Clary while opening his pop and the beer. Passing the latter over, he asked, “So uh, exactly why is the CIA calling you down here in Adel, Iowa of all damn places?”
“It was who I worked for, there isn’t much I can say without having to kill you though.”
Clary kept typing, bringing the secure system up while biting back on a laugh. Mishler was quiet for almost an entire minute stewing on this then said, “Wait, you are screwing with me right?”
“Don’t know, guess we'll see won’t we. How many questions you got?”
“Well, I guess a hell of a lot less now. What did you do then, were you a killer for hire in Russia? Or what were you doing?”
“No, I wasn’t a secret cloak and dagger style agent.”
Mishler took a long pull on his pop then let a burp rip. “Well let me tell you that is relieving. Too many weirdos living in the world nowadays and the last thing you need to worry about is your neighbor down the street. I bought a place with limited accessibility to not have to worry about people coming down here for no reason, if you know what I mean. I wanted a place that I could raise my kid without having to worry about the shit that was on the outside of crazy.”
Clary doubled clicked the picture and waited for it to open. He said, “No, I didn’t do the killing Mishler. I just trained the men and women who did how to do it and how to get away with it and handle any obstacles in their way.”
“Oh well hell, that fills me with immeasurable joy.” Mishler watched as the photo opened and saw a normal looking man with short hair, a strong jaw, and dressed in an everyday business suit. He said, “Well he doesn’t look all that scary to me. What the hell are they freaking out about, having me come all this way down here to talk to you?”
Clary leaned forward, gripped his beer and drank half the can in one gulp and said, “Christ, I'm gonna need the hard stuff. These fuckers have absolutely no idea what they are doing here. This kid was dark, he had a handler and that was it, he was supposed to be off of the radar. I haven’t thought about him in years, and it hasn't hurt my sleep.”
“So this guy makes you nervous? What is he, the monster under the bed?”
“He’s the one under the monster’s bed.”
“Is he coming here?”
“I can’t see why. I never did anything but teach him how to do what he does. He
never would have been able to go after the men that he was hell bent on killing if we didn't give him the skills to do so with.”
Clary picked up the phone and Mishler said, “What you don’t need any notes or whatever? I thought that was why you hung up?”
“There are no notes on this man Mishler. Give me a minute and I’ll grab you another drink. I need something stiffer and a cigar, I think. The last thing I want to have to worry about at night is this guy losing his shit and being out on the loose. I guess it would seem that he isn’t working for the company any longer.”
He dialed the number again and Lincoln grabbed it on the first ring. “Hello, this is Director Lincoln’s office, is this Instructor Clary?”
“Retired instructor, retired.”
“Did you get the file? Did it open, do you know who he is?”
“Let me ask you first, what is going on exactly? I don’t want this in any way to come back on me.”
“You aren’t in any position to be giving me orders Clary!”
“Well fuck you sir, but I do believe that I most certainly am. I’m retired, I could hang up this phone and you could lose connection with maybe the only man that even knows who the hell he is. The other two instructors that were under me at that time are both dead, smoking kills and it proves it with those two. Not sure why anyone would smoke cigarettes though. I mean, it isn’t as if we were doing a stressful job or anything right? So let me ask one more time, do you have any idea why he was doing what he was doing?”
“We were looking into that actually, it’s my next plan of attack, but first I wanted to know who he was, if he was ours, or if he still is. I would love to blow smoke up your ass Clary but until I know who he is and why he’s doing it, there really is not much good in me saying anything that isn’t a flat out lie to you about how your safety is fine. Why he would go after you, I don’t know, but why he would go after two random workers at our building is even more confusing.”
“You are looking at a man named Jacob August. He came to us right out of college; he hadn’t even graduated when the recruiter sent him my way. He was highly motivated at the time and already a black belt or a triple black belt whatever the hell you call it in martial arts. He was a gifted man.” “What do you mean that he was motivated?”
“His family, I mean his mother, father, and sister, his entire immediate family had gotten taken out at the Chicago bombing just a few months prior. When I read the kid’s background after he showed up, it had him with an IQ level of genius and he was studying to be a head shrink at the time of the bombing. So to put it mildly, he could get in a person’s head just fine. He could also remove that head if he chose to do so.”
“Well he’s seems like he’s our problem now though, unfortunately. He broke out of our holding facility earlier. We don’t know what motivated him to leave, or for that matter, like I've said multiple times, why he did what he did. I’d like to find out that reason, so we don’t go chasing down someone that is still on the payroll. But, can you see a government agent going after someone who is in the CIA, so that they can put them down? I haven’t heard of anything like that in years, and from what I know, these two men he shot had quite an impeccable record and did a good job. Their files were both very clean.”
“So you had him and he got away huh? Well honestly, he’s the scariest son of a bitch that I'd ever encountered. They chose him to be undercover with only a handler. You could try contacting that man, but if the kid has left since then, you probably will be wasting your time. He worked with the kid longer than I did, so there is a good chance that if he’s retired he’ll have as much useful information for you as I do.”
“So if we are by some chance able to track the man down, do you have any suggestions that would help us with dealing with him?”
“You got any bullets left at the CIA and anyone that knows how to use the damn things?”
“We have a very capable SWAT team. I like to think confidently that if we would have left them on the floor where he was being held, that he would still be in custody now.”
“Well, I tell you if you want to do what is best for your guys, if you see that man and he is within shooting distance, you fill him with as many bullets as you can. And if you aren’t sure if he’s really down, you walk up and shoot him square in the head. Because if you try to kill a man like this and fail, he’s going to come at you hard and he isn’t going to quit until you kill him or he takes care of what he needs to. Unfortunately for you, I don’t remember him failing at anything, ever. I would imagine that he is still there, so look up a handler, or at least who he was under when he took the kid off my hands for me, and see if you can find a guy named Tony Baker.”
The director wrote it down slowly, wondering why that name sounded so familiar. He said “Sir is there anything else that you can tell me about this man?”
“Other than putting a bullet in his head? That is going to be about the only viable solution that I can think of for you. I doubt that an old handler is going to be able to talk him down. Oh, and if you want to sleep at night ever again, then know that the nickname he goes by is Gabriel. You need anything else from me?”
“Not unless you’d be interested in working a case for us in the field?”
“Shit no, I've been waiting for retirement my whole damn career. I sure as hell ain’t trying to make it a short one, once you actually figure out some genius way to find that scary SOB. I suggest that if you can’t find him, you pray he doesn’t come back. If you do find him, you make sure your boys absolutely do not miss. Whatever number of men you think you need, it’d be wise to add on one or two more.”
“Oh I don't think that is a problem, we are going to have more than one Clary.”
Clary laughed, “Well that’s great news Director because you are going to need them sir. You sure as hell are gonna need them. You need anything else from me?”
“No, his name alone was something very useful to go off of, so thank you. Can you stay handy if we have any follow up questions please?”
“I guess I can take a day off, you tell your boys to watch their backs. Them getting the jump on him once is one thing, but if he knows that you are coming for him, it’s going to be a entirely different ordeal that you are going to have to mess with. I don’t want a bunch of paid soldiers getting killed because some asshole told them that they were going in to finish off some random guy. The more they know about what he can do, the better. If you aren’t sure what he can do, just assume everything and then you have a starting point.”
“Well, thank you again.”
Clary ended the call and set the phone down. He walked to the kitchen, grabbed a dusty bottle of whiskey from on top of the fridge, and yanked the cork out and put two fingers in two cups. Mishler said, “You forget that I don’t drink, partner?”
Clary picked up the first cup and slammed it, then he smelled the second and slammed it back as well. “It doesn’t matter how many people they send in. If there’s too many for him to handle he’s going to run, it’s what he was taught to do. If he can handle them or even thinks he can, those men are walking into hell’s mouth whenever they track him down. I fear it won’t be long.”
“Is he really that good?”
“He was, and if he has been on his own and coming back now, I can only imagine they screwed him over somehow thinking they’d be able to take him out when they were done with it. There have been too many weak administrations in the White House trying to put their noses into shit that they don’t have business doing so. Sometimes those political fellas need to just sit back and say thank you and keep their mouths shut, if you know what I mean. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. The CIA used to be a hell of a lot more effective back in its glory days than it is now, and that is something you can take to the bank.”
“Well it’s nice to know that the neighborhood sure can get more interesting, especially since you know it’s only you and my family on this damn street.”
“It's the fir
st time that I’ve heard from anyone in a very long time. I plan on things going back to normal after this Mishler, I can assure you of that my friend.”
Chapter
Nine
Shaun drove quickly down the interstate, trying to keep a hand up by his face so that no one could potentially recognize them. He pulled in slowly to the airport and stopped before going up to the guard's booth. He didn’t want to drive Gabriel through there and wake him up suddenly, which might get him shot in the head. He said in as soothing voice as he could, “Hey mister, hey mister, are you awake?” He put his hand up to shake Gabriel but stopped short and pulled it back in. He scooted over as far in his seat as he could the opposite way and turned the radio off, then he turned up the volume knob and then punched the power button back on, filling the car with noise.
Shaun reached over to try and shake Gabriel, who still appeared sound asleep, however his wrist was snatched scaring the shit out of him and making him jump back. Gabriel asked, “Why’d we stop moving?”
“We are here, you said I needed to wake you up. You aren’t fun to wake up, you need to figure out a way to just get up if you need to.”
Gabriel said, “Trust me, if it wasn’t for the injuries of the day, I could go-” Gabriel suddenly opened the car door, his face turning white as he lost everything that he had eaten in the last twenty four hours.
Shaun watched in disgust and said, “You got a bug or something?”
Gabriel wiped at the leftovers with the back of his sleeve and replied, “No I doubt it, but I would say even more confidently that I have a head injury that is going to keep me from being a hundred percent for a few days.”
“Are you going to be ok to fly?”
“I don’t have a lot of options, besides I'm sure they have a perfectly good garbage can aboard this plane that I can use if it happens again. I assure you, the meals have been far and few between in the last few days.”