Megan

by C. R. Daems

  Damn, I had been too busy watching in the direction of the crowd to notice the car on the other side. Good thing Lynn was here. Uncoiling out of my sitting stance, I began running toward the front of the bus. I raced past it at a run, noticing out of the corner of my eye the FBI and Patterson had just reached the landing. As I cleared the front of the bus, a man standing twenty feet away was raising an assault rifle to his shoulder. I dove forward, firing as I flew toward the ground. Fortunately, I hit him somewhere because he jerked sideways, firing reflexively and ripping a trench in the asphalt payment. Before he could turn back to me, I shot six times: side, back, and head several times. I was getting ready to fire another one to his head as he lay there, but even at this distance I could see it wasn't necessary. I rose to my knees just as the bus drove off.

  "I must still be on the FBI's shit list," Lynn said as she strolled to where I lay. As she did, individuals could be seen peeking out from behind cars and through windows. "That was good thinking and shooting."

  "I screwed up!"

  "The car? The crowd was the real threat. That car was meant to be a distraction. It was moving when the guy in the back seat fired. I doubt he expected to hit anything. You got the guy in the crowd before me. The guy behind the bus was quick thinking."

  Ya, I got the guy in the crowd a half second before you. Although behind the bus was good, I mused.

  "None of us are perfect, Megan. That was a well-planned attack with automatic weapons. The man in the crowd had a Glock with a thirty-three round magazine. And that rifle is an AK-47 with a seventy-five round magazine that fires at a rate somewhere around ten bullets per second." She eyed the rifle thoughtfully. "I'd wager there was another car here and it went after the bus." She pulled out her cell phone and tapped something.

  "Hi, Boss. There has been a shooting, two dead. Megan and I are unhurt, although Megan looks like hell with the front of her clothes dirty and ripped. Anyway, the FBI ran off without us. We're stranded and our feelings are hurt." She listened quietly for a minute before hanging up. "He said for us to relax. He would get back to us when he knew something. Let’s get you cleaned up." She nodded toward the hotel.

  * * *

  We got a ride into town where I bought a sweatsuit to replace my torn blacks, since my luggage was on the bus, and then found a small diner. We were sitting in a booth having coffee and dessert when Lynn's phone rang.

  "Are we still employed?" she asked, a small grin on her lips. I admired Lynn. She sat there relaxed, as if nothing had happened today, whereas I felt like throwing a party. I had been in my first shootout and shot—killed—two men who were trying to kill my client. But I did notice a sparkle in Lynn's eyes and a little bounce to her step. She closed her phone without saying anything.

  "As I suspected, a car did follow the bus and shot it up pretty good. Patterson and two others were killed and three injured. Two were minor and one serious but expected to recover. Ann Marie will call us with reservations."

  Just then, four policemen and a lieutenant entered the restaurant. The lieutenant was a broad-shouldered man in his early forties, curly dark brown hair, and a square face which looked like an angry bulldog. Lynn swiped her smartphone, tapped the speed dial, and put it on speaker.

  "Hi, Boss. I've a lieutenant and four cops marching down the aisle. They look like trouble. I'm trying to set a good example for Megan."

  "Try not to put anyone in the hospital," Witton said, "and leave the phone on."

  "You're under arrest for leaving the scene of a crime!" the lieutenant shouted.

  "We're Kazaks. You should check with your captain. We have diplomatic immunity and can't be arrested or interrogated," Lynn said in a normal voice.

  "The hell you say—"

  "Lieutenant, STOP!" Witton must have screamed because it came through the phone loud and clear.

  "Who the hell are you?"

  "Give me your name and I'll have the Governor call you and explain. It's in your best interests, Lieutenant."

  "Screw you," the lieutenant said, waving for his men to come to him and reaching for Lynn's arm. As he touched her arm, the barrel of Lynn's Glock rammed into his stomach. I rose, drawing my Glock, grabbed the lieutenant’s head as he bent, and drove his face into the table. He slid to the floor with his nose spurting blood.

  "If anyone draws a gun, he dies!" Lynn said loudly. I think you should call someone, Boss. Eventually one of these policemen is going to feel brave and reach for his gun."

  The phone went dead. I hoped Witton could perform some magic before one of them did something stupid. Lynn wasn't trying to scare them. She would shoot and I doubted it would be to wound.

  "I guess this is going to earn us, me, a letter of complaint."

  "Probably, especially if we have to kill one of these officers. Megan, you have to get aggressive or let jerks like him," she nodded toward the floor, "manhandle you. It's happened to me and it will to you because we're women. If we had been men, that asshole would've taken the time to listen. But because we're women, he gets all macho." Lynn fired a shot into the ceiling. "The next one's in your head, stupid. In case you forgot those dead guys back at the hotel, we don't miss."

  Carrying her coffee, Lynn moved to the counter opposite our table. I rose to sit on the back of the booth, my gun resting on my thigh. Everyone, including the two behind the counter and the two couples in booths, remained frozen. Lynn sat on a stool, drinking coffee. Every once in a while someone would look like they were going to move, until Lynn or I shook our head at him. Sometime later a police captain entered with his empty hands extended in front of him.

  "I'm Captain Deckert. If you'd let these officers return to their duty, I'll have the medic outside take a look at Lieutenant Phillip."

  When Lynn nodded Deckert waved the officers out and then waved to a medic standing by the door. Deckert approached, his hands still in front of him although he didn't appear armed, with the medic following.

  "I apologize for my lieutenant. It appears he paid for his stupidity. I understand you explained you were a Kazak and asked him to contact his superior."

  The medic now had Phillip on his feet. The lieutenant started to say something until he saw Deckert's stern look. With the medic supporting him, they left the restaurant.

  "I know you don't have to, but would you mind telling me what happened at the Homewood Suites?"

  "We were with Miss Patterson when we exited the hotel… "Lynn surprised me, giving a detailed account of the attack. I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride when she gave me credit for most of the action. One thing about Lynn, she was comfortable with herself and not concerned with image. Of course I had to admit to myself that I did all right for my first action, but I was glad Lynn was there.

  "Thanks, Lynn. I appreciate you filling in the details. Would you really have shot the officers with Phillip if they drew their guns?"

  "Yep. They were warned."

  Deckert shook his head like he couldn't believe what he just heard. "But they were just following Phillip’s orders."

  "They would have shot me, without cause." Lynn looked at a man entering the restaurant and smiled. "Nice meeting you, Captain Deckert, but we have to leave. Our ride is here."

  Deckert stood there with his mouth open as Lynn and I strolled by him.

  "I guess you're Lynn Fox and Megan Wolf. I'm your ride to the Lawton-Fort Sills airport."

  * * *

  "This has been an interesting couple of weeks. The Hill educates you, teaches you how to recognize Assassins, use modern weapons, etc., but not how you interact with the outside world. Is a Kazak's first assignment with another Kazak suppose to do that?"

  "Maybe. I never had a partner so I wouldn't know. But I doubt it. You were taught the rules: you have immunity and can't be arrested or interrogated, you are not your clients’ pet, slave, or hired help, and you're there to protect him or her at the risk of your own life. Each of us will interpret those facts according to our personalities. My rules are ex
treme and invasive, but they are my rules. I know for a fact other Kazaks are far more lenient. Would I have shot Phillip or one of his men? Yes."

  "What would the committee do if you had?"

  "Don't know. Don't care."

  * * *

  On the way to the airport Ann Marie called. Lynn put her on speaker.

  "Lynn, Megan, you're booked on an American Eagle flight to Dallas-Fort Worth International. Mr. Witton said to tell you both you have the next week off while he decides on an assignment. He'll call when he has one and will expect you to be ready within forty-eight hours. So if you will tell me where each of you want to go, I'll book your flight out of Dallas."

  "Clare," Lynn said.

  "Where's that?" Ann Marie asked with a small chuckle. "All right. Megan, where do you want to go?"

  "Las Vegas. I think I'll drop in a see how Jody is doing, and Vegas has plenty to keep me entertained."

  "I'll let you know as soon as I have your reservations."

  "Ann Marie, tell Witton that Megan is ready for her own assignment," Lynn said, looking at me with raised eyebrows. I nodded.

  "Ann Marie, tell Witton I'm willing to work alone," I added.

  "I'll tell him. Have fun ladies." The phone went dead.

  "Stopping in to see Jody is a good idea. Say ‘hi’ for me. I don't think she'll need help or have any questions, but she's welcome to call me if she does."

  * * *

  Ann Marie had booked us on a twin-jet Embraer, which had one seat on one side and two across the aisle. It was a short fight to Dallas. Lynn spent the time entertaining me with stories about some of her previous clients. It helped clarify the subtleties concerning Lynn's Rules, which translated into ignore me. Of course, that wasn't as simplistic as it sounded. It meant Lynn stayed glued to her client—convenient or not.

  In Dallas, Lynn and I said good-bye. Although we were both booked on American Airlines flights, we were leaving at different times from gates miles away—well it seemed that way. When I boarded I found I was in first class, and it was on the company's dime. Since leaving the Hill, it felt like I had died and gone to Heaven or maybe Valhalla would be more appropriate.

  * * *

  It was late afternoon by the time I reached the training facility and Master Jianyu was just finishing his two-hour Kung Fu session.

  Megan!" Jody shouted as I entered the training center. "They kill your client already?" The women candidates stood stunned as she grabbed me in a bear hug.

  "Actually, she is dead. She was such a bitch, I shot her so I could get another assignment," I said, maintaining the required serious expression.

  "What did Master Lynn say?" Jody asked going along with the parody.

  "She said I needed to learn self control."

  "Candidates, out of the goodness of my heart, I'm going to give you an extra hour break. Those who wish can stay to hear Kazak Megan try to justify her callous behavior." She had no sooner finished than all of the women came rushing over and sat, forming a semicircle around us. Jianyu also joined us.

  "Kazak Megan, It's nice to see you again. You look happy. Killing clients must agree with you." His eyes sparkled and he gave a slight nod. "If you don't object, I'd like to hear your explanation."

  "Why not, Jody has all but called a major news conference to hear my shameful story." I hung my head. Everyone sat, looking eager. "Master Lynn and I were assigned to guard a congresswoman from Oklahoma…" I had a good time recounting many of the incidents, which in retrospect were amusing. Noting the women's reaction, it not only helped put the life of a Kazak in perspective but also provided an incentive to justify their hard work.

  "All right, back here at 6:00 p.m." Jody said into the silence that followed.

  "Thank you, Kazak Megan. Watching Master Lynn, Jody, and you has been interesting. It's like watching the old Samurai caste come to life again. You're a very special breed." He gave a small bow and left.

  "Wow, Megan, I'm jealous. I chose to take the teaching assignment to rest. I've been having to fight to survive all my life. Like Lynn, I only survived the Hill because I was willing to die to be a Kazak. And I like the idea of helping someone else to shed their past. Hearing you and the bitch Patterson story, I'm looking forward to my first client. Do you know what's next?"

  "Lynn declared me ready, and I've requested to work alone, like Lynn."

  "Yes, we're Lynn's creations. We'll work alone and follow her rules. I hope you'll stay the night and visit a couple of times before your next assignment. I want to hear all the things you felt and learned and didn't tell my class." She grinned. I did stay and we talked well into the night. The next day I went into town early to shop.

  * * *

  I spent a several days in Vegas, playing Pai Gow, flirting, eating out, and attending shows. But most of my time I spent watching the classes and reminiscing with Jody about our time before the Hill. She had grown up in gang-infested neighborhoods and had little choice but to join for her own safety. Her mother had no permanent residence and Jody had belonged to several gangs over the years. Life was tough for girls in gangs, but Jody had learned to survive by giving better than she got. That never-give-in toughness had served her well on the Hill. I, on the other hand, had grown up in an upper middle class neighborhood, attended first class middle and high schools, and attended two years of college on my parents' dime. Life had been one ongoing party. I'll never know why I responded to the Kazak poster—there was no parties, no drinking or drugs, poor food, and a lot of hard work. I had found an upside down universe where the old Megan didn't fit. As my body purged the drugs with exercise, and meditation released the addictions, a new me emerged—whom I loved.

  * * *

  I purchased first class tickets for my trip back to Virginia, since I had spent very little during the week. Unlike Lynn, I enjoyed good clothes, expensive restaurants, and first class seating.

  Although it was late when I arrived back to the Kazak complex, I decided to visit the workout area and found Kazak Nurya the Panther. We spent a couple hours working out before I retired to my unit. Surprisingly, the shelves and refrigerator were well stocked with food, the unit clean, and the bed made. I remember leaving it in a mess.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Shale EnergyCorp: Miss Vansise

  When I exited the elevator a few minutes before eight, Ann Marie was at her desk. She smiled.

  "Go right in, Megan. Mr. Witton is free," she said and handed me a glass of apple juice. I nodded thanks, took a deep breath, and entered. As I did, he looked up and waved me to a chair.

  "I was impressed with your performance at the Homewood Suites, as was Lynn. She said you don't require a mentor." He paused, seeming to appraise me. "She also said you wouldn't mind, or was it preferred, being assigned alone."

  "Yes, sir, if I can negotiate a block of time after each assignment to relax and…party." I grinned. "After all, it saves you having to provide another Kazak. I suspect you'd give Master Lynn extra time off even if it weren't necessary due to injuries." I sat back, taking a drink of my juice and crossing my ankles for luck, while I awaited his response. He laughed.

  "Are you sure you're not a Fox? Yes, I would give Lynn extra time off. Taking lone assignments frees up a Kazak for another client. And we have more potential clients than available Kazaks. So I'll agree tentatively, predicated on the results of your next assignment."

  "Thank you, Mr. Witton. I'm not taking lone assignments predominately for a block of free time off. After all, I get four weeks vacation. But I believe I'll enjoy my assignments more if I get to see the real person I'm guarding." I held up my hand. "Not to judge them, but to know them."

  "I hope I'm not going to need a Megan board."

  "I'm Lynn-trained, sir." I couldn't help a smile when he shook his head.

  "Then I'll order another board. There is a woman CEO who has been getting threats on her home phone, cell, emails, tweets, and normal mail. After someone threw a Molotov cocktail at her house, the FBI has bee
n providing twenty-four hour surveillance on her residence and opening any mail she doesn't recognize."

  "What did she do to get such attention?"

  "She's the CEO of Shale Energy Corporation, which is a major player in extracting natural gas from deep shale rock formations using fracking techniques. They have major exploration and extraction sites in Pennsylvania, Michigan, North Dakota, and Texas. Over the past year there have been several lawsuits filed against the company, claiming the process has resulted in contaminated drinking water and earthquakes. The various lawsuits are seeking damages for a variety of health problems, birth defects, property damages, and even wrongful death."

  "Where do I find Mrs. or is it Miss Fracking?"

  "I've arranged for you to meet Miss Vansise at her Chicago office tomorrow morning at nine. Her office is located at 101 Wacker Drive, Fifteenth Floor, Suite 106."

  "Any advice, Mr. Witton?"

  "No. You have to develop your own rules on how you deal with your clients. Each client and environment will be unique. I'll tell you that the committee will be watching Jody and you closely. Master Lynn has put into question whether women and men Kazaks are fundamentally different in their approach and, consequently, the final outcome. For example, you wanting to work alone. No advice, but feel free to call me with any questions, and I'll want you to check in with me weekly—at least for this assignment. Check with Ann Marie on the way out. She'll make the necessary reservations for you."

  * * *

  Ann Marie booked me first class on American Airlines out of D.C. into Chicago's O'Hare. I checked my luggage with Airport security using my Kazak authorization, as it contained guns, knives, and a baton, which I prefer in non-uzi fights. At O'Hare, I retrieved it from airport security. Fortunately, I didn't need or want a rental car. After ten years in training, I didn't have a driver's license and was positive I didn't want to drive after watching the traffic from the taxi window. The trip to Wacker Drive was short and I had no trouble finding Shale Energy and their middle-aged, red-headed guard dog.