He stood at attention. "Of course, I'm always ready," he said flirtatiously, giving her a wink. He walked on deck, saluted the flag and went topside to explain once again why he was late. This time, he would use his second job and the lack of pay the Navy provided as an excuse. All they could do was give him a simple write-up like last time.
The base Warren worked on was stationed in Norfolk, Virginia. He was stationed on an aircraft carrier, set for a Meditterean six-month deployment. Warren couldn't wait to get his hands on some of that good kush in Bahrain.
While going below deck to his department, he dragged his seabag with him to the berthing area. This was where his unit slept and held their lockers. He had several ironed uniforms in there. If only he could go to change quickly and get to his desk-
"Well, if it isn't ole Petty Officer Squires. You missed muster again, late as all get out and your uniform is unsat? What is wrong with you?" Chief Petty Officer Larkins barked at him.
Several guys squeezed past them as they walked through the ship. Many tried to linger back to listen. Warren sobered up quickly forgetting he was on a ship with over three-thousand personnel. Someone would be bound to listen to his excuse and spread rumors on him again.
Warren was actually intimidated by Larkins. At six-two, two hundred solid muscle and tats that read, "Don't even think about it", he was notorious for being the worst chief lead for the cryptology unit. Warren just so happened to be working in this unit for about three years now. He couldn't stand Larkins.
"Chief, I, um, let me explain, please," Warren begged.
Larkins held up his mammoth hand. "Save it. Get dressed in your dress whites. Then come to my office for a urinalysis." Larkins stormed off before Warren could even say anything.
Warren's mouth went dry. He opened it to blab out his excuse, but it was of no use. He was screwed.
How screwed, he had no idea. When it was all said and done, he would've wished he went AWOL instead.
Warren hurried up and got dressed in his uniform. He turned around to put his bag on his bed when he saw his only friend on the ship and from his unit. Benjamin. He was a cool Black guy, from upstate New York like him and worked in cybersecurity.
"Say, man, I wish I could help you out, but you know they're going to be breathing down your neck," he said to Warren, taking a deep sigh. His deep-set brown eyes were filled with sympathy.
Warren adjusted his tie quickly and shook Benjamin's hand. "Thanks, man, it's okay. Worst-case scenario, they'll just decrease my pay, put me in deck to sweep and mop up shit and then I'll be back topside before you know it. I'll see you in Bahrain bro," Warren said confidently. The guys shook hands again. Benjamin turned to look at Warren as he breezed through to get to his doom.
Benjamin had heard rumors of someone stealing classified information. Because it was classified, he didn't share it with anyone. Not even Squires. Word had it that it was Squires. He hoped it wasn't true.
Reaching the Chief's office, Larkins gave him an indignant glare. He shook his head at him. "Warren, you better not fuck up. This time could be worse for you."
Warren didn't answer him as he followed him past the bathroom area where they conducted urinalysis. Where were they going? He decided to speak up.
"Um, chief, the head is back that way. I thought you wanted me to take a piss test?" Warren asked, his voice squeaking.
Chief Larkins continued on, putting his garrison cover on. He didn't answer him. Instead, he lead Warren straight to Lieutenant Commander Perkins' office. Warren's heart sank in the pit of his stomach when he realized what was going on.
He was really screwed.
They both entered Perkins' office, saluted him and stood at attention.
"At ease," he said from behind his desk. He stood up.
"You're going to take a piss test today and it better not come back positive, do you understand this Squires?" Perkins asked him calmly, getting right to it.
Warren nodded his head. "Yes sir, I understand."
Two other petty officers came and took Warren to Perkins' private head for the test to be conducted. After taking his sample, the two men left and took it to test. With technology the way it was, the results would be back in minutes. Warren washed his hands and stood at attention in front of Perkins. This time Perkins did not tell him to ease up. He stared straight ahead, taking in the pics of Perkins and his family on the walls, the many awards he received and pics of him participating and winning in marathons and Ironman competitions. Sweat poured down Warren's back as he patiently waited in the deafening silence.
Ten minutes later, the men came back with a solemn look. Perkins already knew.
He read the results, his eyes landing on Warren's face. "There's no way you're going to be on this deployment. You are to be sent to Captain's Mast to hear what your disciplinary action will be, do you understand?"
Warren felt a huge lump in his throat but swallowed anyway before speaking. "Yes sir, I understand."
Perkins turned to Larkins. "Get him out of my damn office. How many times has this happened to this guy and he still continues to disrespect the Navy and all we stand for?" Perkins scoffed. He waved his hand.
Before Warren could be ushered out of the office, two ensigns came rushing to Perkins' office. They also worked in Warren's unit. Warren disliked the wannabe Batman and Robin duo, always looking for a come-up to rat somebody out. Today, that somebody was Warren Squires.
"Sir, we think you should come to take a look at this," the short schoolboy looking one said. He ignored Warren's glare at him from the side. The guy handed him some papers and photos.
"What is this I'm looking at?" Perkins asked, agitated.
The other one stepped up. "Sir, we have reason to believe as you can clearly see from the evidence, that someone in our unit has been swiping off classified data off our servers. The camera that we had placed will tell the story."
Warren's mouth went dry. He clenched his fists at his sides. He knew they were talking about him. He was in deep shit now. No one, not even Benjamin, his creator, or anyone could save him.
Perkins sighed and passed the pictures to Chief Larkins. He held onto one of the photos, facing it forward for Warren to see. "Wow. A junkie and a thief? Dammit, Squires! This is you and you're under arrest, for violating code..."
Warren didn't even hear him. He tuned him out. For some reason, he blacked out. The only thing he remembered was leaping on Perkins, landing his fist on Perkins' chin, making his head snap back.
The ensigns tried to jump in, but Warren was a madman. He tossed them out into the hallway. Now, Chief Larkins, that was a different story. He put Warren in a savage headlock, Warren's arms flailing about as he couldn't breathe.
His voice sputtered as Larkins held fast onto Warren, dragging him back inside the office. Perkins called for some military police officers for assistance. They arrived in seconds, placing handcuffs on a squealing Warren Squires. As they carried him away, he turned to look at Perkins, who had blood on his uniform shirt from the hit. Warren smirked as the two MPOs dragged him away to be placed in the brig.
The next day, Warren woke up in a cell, pissed because he wanted to go away so bad. This would've been his third deployment and he had never been in the Middle East. But he had to go and screw it up by swiping data. He was trying to find out what weapons were being used at sleeper cells in the Middle East. Had he known he was being watched, he would've never done it. He should've known he couldn't get away with it, but his bleeding heart got the best of him. Many civilians were getting killed by the Navy's bombings to capture a few groups of radical rebels. Warren's plan was to anonymously blow the whistle.
Looks like that wouldn't be happening.
He didn't want to go through the embarrassment and ugliness of a trial. Instead, he pleads guilty of stealing the information. He saw Benjamin that day who couldn't say anything to him except, "Your belongings will be shipped to your home once you get out, shipmate." He wanted to shake his friend's
hand, but couldn't. The MPOs were all over him.
The captain of the command decided to put Numbers in the brig again until they came back from deployment. Numbers sat there for almost a year before he was told by James and the captain that he was getting put out of the Navy, unable to return, work for the US government or as a contractor. They sentenced him to five years at a federal correctional facility in Kansas.
When Warren got out, he was sent to a halfway house. This is where he met Brennan and the rest for him was history.
Chapter Forty-Three
The next day, after Nina received the ransom video while in the hospital, Paul Hirsch, the beloved town's skateboarder/snowboarder, decided to go practice at the frozen skate park. He knew it was dangerous, but he loves the thrill. His girlfriend, Hillary, loves coming with him because it is the only time they can be free without anyone criticizing their religious backgrounds. She is Muslim and Paul is Jewish.
"Look at me, babe! Can you see me in the Winter Olympics? I'm on the team you know for snowboarding. I've been practicing for this moment for a long time now and I want you to be there with me, what do you say?" Paul asked, breathless after doing a routine on ice with his skates. He wanted to join that team, too but decided to focus on his first love of snowboarding.
Hillary giggled, walking up to him. She handed him a hot cup of hot chocolate she packed in their thermal bag.
"I'll follow you to the moon and back," she gave him a kiss on his cold cheek. He grabbed her, embracing his arms around her. He held the cup out in front of him as he hugged her tight.
"I can't wait until we're off on our own. I know we're young Hillary, but I do love you. I'm nineteen and you're eighteen. We both graduate this year. After this, I'm going full-time snowboarding. Endorsements are coming at me like crazy. I want, no scratch that, need you by my side. So what do you say?" he asked her hopefully, his eyes glistening behind his snow goggles.
She pulled them up on his forehead and leaned in for a kiss. "Yes, I will go with you as long as I can go to college."
He wiped snow out of her long thick hair. "Of course, and you know I'll pay for it. Don't worry, we're going to have a beautiful life together!" he howled out loud. He took a sip of the hot chocolate, gave her back the cup and skated off.
She laughed after him. "I love you, Paul Hirsch! I can't wait to have your babies, too!"
He turned and looked over his shoulder. "Oh yes, we'll have about ten!"
Her eyes went wide. "What? Yeah right, more like two!" He gave her the thumbs, skating over the further end of the lake. He knew the area very well and that it was frozen enough to skate on. He was daring, but not crazy.
Hillary thought about their life together. She pulled out her phone and recorded Paul. She met Paul in her junior year of high school. She was surprised he even wanted to talk to a "sand-nigger" like her. That's what the other kids called her growing up. She learned to fight and ignore the hateful jibes. But when Paul approached her, all eyes were on them. They have been inseparable ever since. He introduced her to his parents and although the meeting was cordial, they still disapproved. Paul didn't care. He was a self-made young man able to make his own decisions.
Hillary hooped and hollered on camera, putting herself in the view with Paul in the background. "This is my baby y'all! He's about to do a double jump in the air! Watch now!" she squealed in excitement.
Soon as Paul landed on his feet, he came face-to-face with Brennan. Hillary dropped her phone, screaming out as Brennan grabbed onto Hirsch.
"Where are the files Hirsch?" Brennan asked in a gruff, snatching a surprised Paul in the air by his bright Tony Hawk jacket.
Paul spoke through stammering lips. "Man, I don't know what you're talking about! Put me down!"
Brennan smirked. "As you wish." Brennan tossed Paul with all his might, forcing Paul to slide on his back, thumping his head against something. No, it was actually someone. Numbers.
Paul looked up at him, muttering a curse under his breath. Numbers' hair was flying wildly in the cold brutal wind, but he didn't care. This was unfinished business he needed to take care of before he moved forward with the whole Rodney situation. He walked off the ice, watching from the sidelines. This was one of Brennan's recruits so he had to be the one to handle him. He pulled out a blunt, lit it and began smoking. He was starting to feel calm already.
Brennan stomped over to Paul, careful not to break the ice, picking him back up. Paul was out of breath and in pain, his face reddened from skating all morning and now out of fear.
"Again, I'm going to ask you, no, demand that you turn over those files. The ones that went to the Ukraine dealer where we won the money. You wanted in for yourself. Where'd you send them Paul? I keep telling you dumb numbnuts that just because you can hack, doesn't mean you can get around our hacks, ya dig? Now, where is it?" Brennan seethed.
Paul thought back to the day he sold his soul when he met Brennan Hill.
Paul got caught up in a scheme that he didn't need to be in. Already coming from an affluent background, he wanted to prove that he could do something on his own. He was already an expert skateboarder as well as a snowboarder, but got greedy and wanted more. One day, he came across Hill at one of his skateboarding events who pretended that he wanted to sponsor Paul with his local computer company. Paul jumped at it, telling him he would contact him the next day.
When Paul did, Hill met up with him at a coffee shop. Brennan tells Paul he knows that he is good at hacking and if he wanted to, he could make some serious money. Paul takes up on the offer since his father told him when he turned eighteen if he didn't make it with this sport he had to go away to college. His father wanted him to take up economics and finance. Paul doesn't want to go to college or study any of that stuff, he wants to skateboard. And hack.
***
Trying to catch his breath, Paul spoke up. "Listen, man, I don't know what you're talking about," he lied.
"Really? Then what the fuck is this?" Brennan growled. He pulled out a phone and played a video clip of Hirsch selling the files to another dealer in Canada. His heart hammering in his chest, Paul opened his mouth to explain. He knew there was no getting out of this one. Instead, he held up his skateboard and hit Brennan in the stomach with it. Brennan dropped the phone.
"You little wretch! Get back here!" Brennan shouted, chasing after Paul. Paul was familiar with the ice, but Brennan wasn't. He slipped and fell a few times.
"Run Hill! Run!" Paul screamed, making his way off the ice. He caught up to her and shoved her to run. She dropped the hot chocolate she was drinking, putting her phone in her pocket and ran off with Paul.
Brennan wasted no time pulling out his Desert Eagle, shooting at Paul. Paul and Hillary cry out, but kept running and ducking. Paul shoved Hillary forward again to run faster. He couldn't afford for either one of them to die.
Missing the shot, Brennan's adrenaline powered up. He ran with a large pump of his arms, finally catching up to Paul. "You really thought you were going to get away with this? Play both sides innit?" Brennan took hold of Paul's hood on his jacket and yanked him down. He pulled out his hunting knife, stood over Paul and stabbed him in his chest.
"Wait! Please stop," Paul wheezed. He rolled over on his side, begging for mercy. Brennan reached down and took the knife out and repeatedly stabbed Paul up in a fit of rage. He was tired of people playing him for a fool. He gave them an opportunity and they still took advantage.
"These younguns are going to learn today," Brennan seethed. Blood poured out of Paul's mouth, spreading all over his chest, forcing him to gurgle his last words. Brennan didn't care what he had to say as he raised the knife up and stabbed Paul once more for good measure. Paul's eyes bulged out of his sockets then glazed over as he took his last breath, his head facing upwards, frozen stiff.
Hillary was used to running. As a child growing up in Yemen, her family was always running for their lives, packing up what they could and running until they landed first in C
anada and finally, a few years ago, in the US. She hiked up her long skirt and ran for her life almost making it out of the woods and onto the main highway. That was until she ran right into Numbers who was watching the entire time from the woods. He tripped Hillary with a stuck out foot. She tumbled and rolled down a few feet, landing near a bank of snow, hitting her head on a rock. She blacked out.
"Oh wow, you stupid little bitch, you just made my job easier," Numbers gritted. He tied her up, gagged her mouth and threw her over his shoulder. Meeting Brennan on the side of the road, they put her in their car and drive off, leaving Paul Hirsch's dead body behind.
"You know what this means right?" Numbers asked Brennan as they calmly drove their truck as if they were taking a normal road trip.
Brennan was quiet at first. But then he answered. "Yes, we have to kill her, too, since she's a witness. Before we do that, let me find out what she knows."
Chapter Forty-Four
"We are going to do all that we can to help locate your son, Mr. and Mrs. Hirsch. In the meantime, please try to list all of his friends, associates, anyone you can think of. Places he could've gone to, anything that will help us lead to where he might be," Officer Stevens stated reassuringly.
He was at the sprawling estate of the Hirsches. They filed a missing person report when their son, Paul, did not come home last night.
Mr. Hirsch, a middle-aged man with thinning hair, scoffed. "He's probably out with that girl we told him to stay away from. I told him about messing with those types of girls," he gruffed.
Officer Stevens raised his eyebrows. "What type of girls do you mean?” Mrs. Hirsch butted in, giving her husband a knowing look to be quiet. "He meant nothing. From what my son told me, his girlfriend Hillary Ahmad is a wonderful smart young lady. We met her once, but my husband believes in the orthodox tradition. I just want my son to be happy. And right now, safe and sound." She grabbed Officer Stevens' hands in desperation. "Can you please help us find him? He's our only child," she said sadly, tears forming in her eyes.
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